Meet the new jacket, not the same as the old jacket.

In the late 1800’s, a Scot called Edward Le Roy was working around the docks in the new, wild land of Australia. There were a lot of sailors there freezing their various genitalia off because the seas out those parts were fucking harsh, and no matter how many woolly jumpers you stack on your nipples still turned into little black diamond-hard lumps the first time you sailed into the wind. Edward needed a solution.

“What,” he asked, “would make the wind my bitch?” Then he looked up at the sails of the ships passing through the dock and had his answer.

Sailcloth back then was thick cotton canvas treated with oil, which made a material so fucking manly that it turned gale winds – an elemental force of destruction – into your personal servant. Edward Le Roy took this material and made it into a set of rather smart casual jackets. Sailors all around the Australian coast were able to head into the piss-thick sleet of a coastal storm with their middle fingers up. Stockmen out on the northern plains watched over their flocks through freezing night and rain heavy enough to drown in.

In 1933, Edward finally registered a trademark for his beautiful, manly jackets, and a legend was born.

Driza-bone.

I’ve been looking for a jacket like this a long time. Bomber cut, nice fit, warm as hell, built to last the apocalypse. If anyone ever nukes Melbourne I’ll just curl into a ball and throw this jacket over my head and then wait till the asphalt cools.

Jackets are for life, people. Not just for Christmas.