A Barbour jacket is an institution, and the three Royal Warrants are well earned. They are cold when it is cold, and hot when it is hot because they are thin and don't breathe, but they are also tough, and look better with a few rips and scars. The pockets in my own Border jacket are gargantuan, and quite comfortably accomodate magazines, lenses and any other bric-a-brac with which I feel inclined to stuff them. Resting comfortably on a shoulder, they cover the largest camera and are as such the perfect security. There is nothing quite so perfect or English as fighting the wind through fields on a blustery day with a warm Shetland jumper and a windproof Barbour jacket, ideally with a dog and a gun. They've also drifted in and out of fashion in Town, and here Yuliana sports one as we stroll past the stags and deer in Richmond Park.
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