What your Durham coat says about you

Barbour - Your name is either Hugo, Edward, Sebastian, James, or Felix. You inherited this Barbour from your father, who wore it to your Great-Uncle Richard’s annual shoot in Devon twenty-five years ago. It is covered in dog hair from the family’s four beloved yellow labradors, all of which somehow fit in the boot of your mother’s Land Rover Defender.

You wear a signet ring. It’s relatively new, as you lost your previous one down the loo at Sandringham. You call everyone “Mate” in a raspy voice, even girls whom you met only five minutes ago. You shake everyone’s hand aggressively and have mastered the art of the ‘rich boy laugh.’ On nights out you wear chinos, a navy quarter zip, and loafers. 

You know every word to “I Vow to Thee, My Country,” and can be heard singing it obnoxiously with your rugby mates, staggering drunkenly along the Bailey back to Hatfield. Despite only being twenty, you’ve secured internships at The Telegraph, The Economist and Aston Martin. You promise your girlfriend a holiday house in the Cotswolds and four horses if she agrees to get engaged before third year. The wedding will be in a marquee on the lawn at Blenheim Palace. Henry’s not invited, because he doesn’t have a trust fund.

College puffer - You are genuinely a nice person. Reliable, supportive, down to earth. Your specialist skills involve calling Ubers after a night out and holding back your housemate’s hair. You probably attend Hilde Bede, Collingwood, or Van Mildert. Your uni bag contains a spare umbrella for the walk up the Hill to the Billy B, tissues, a First Aid kit, a battery pack with four different types of leads, and a notebook and pen.

You are a team player, and are president of a college sports society. Your diet consists of Tesco meal deals and Red Bull. 

Levuroy/From Fern patterned quilted jacket - Oh, how I envy you. Styled with white linens, a Love Clementine belt and gleaming with ropes of golden jewellery, you are truly an ‘it girl.’ When someone asks where each of the rings on your French-manicured fingers are from, you take great delight in listing each place you visited on your ‘gap yah.’ Thailand, Bali, Vietnam, Courchevel …

In Michaelmas term, you can be sighted on the top floor of the Billy B gossiping with your friends, wearing a vintage Ralphie or your rugby boyfriend’s fleece, (emblazoned with the name of his private school on the back, of course.) You are understandably gutted when you arrive home for Christmas, as Mummy has not stocked up on ‘Chicken Wine’ as requested, nor is she particularly impressed with your avid Vinted/Depop enthusiasm. Thank goodness you were gifted all the Emma Bridgewater mugs you wanted this year.

In Easter term, you lounge languidly on Palace Green in Toms’ Trunks, accompanied with a Fortnum and Mason hamper Daddy sent you as a special treat to see you through exam season. The olives are simply to die for. You likely went to a Bailey college, solely because it looks aesthetic on your Instagram. You dress in Minka Dink and Babble & Goose from the King’s Road pop-up, chugging Aperols like your life depends on it.  You get vexed when Minty can’t get your Flat White order right. It’s an iced oat ceremonial-grade matcha latte with two pumps of vanilla syrup, of course. 

Long wool trench coat - You are either a fashionable Bailey girl, or that champagne socialist guy who now believes he’s a philosopher because he read Marx or Engels once. I don’t make the rules.

As the fashionable Bailey girl, you wouldn’t be seen dead without your beloved wool coat, Longchamp Le Pliage and an ostentatious pair of dark sunglasses that you think make you seem mysterious, when in reality you look like you’ve got a severe hangover. Yes, you spend an extortionate proportion of money on cortados, and no, you don’t know what a maintenance loan is. 

In perhaps your most mortifying moment to date, you once bought a grand total of fourteen dresses off Vinted for the Law Ball. Your online shopping purchases arrive with such regularity that your porter has stopped asking if you ordered something. You gripe about your boyfriend, because he is seemingly incapable of taking candid photos of you, despite having been given extensive instructions. You summer in Corfu, the Côte D’Azur and Lake Como. Very chic.

As for the champagne socialist, you spend nights out chain-smoking, informing anyone who will listen that there should be an updated Communist manifesto written, or the economy will collapse. Either way, you relieve stress by walking melancholically by the Cathedral at night, pretending you’re in a Dostoevsky novel.

North Face - Somewhere between the Barbour and College Puffer wearer, you likely attended private school, but you’re not as blatant about it. If you’re a guy who owns the yellow and black one, you probably have a mullet and an ear-piercing, and performatively go to Flat White for Korean Fried Chicken pancakes. You frequently lose said North Face in Jimmy's smoking area. You’re also that person who strides into lectures half-way through with your headphones on, utterly oblivious. 

Peacoat -I thought the quilted jacket girls were the very pinnacle of cool. Yet I was proven wrong. The peacoat girls can be summarised in one word - chic. Paired with Uggs, dark sunglasses, and a glossy blow-out, you derive fashion inspiration from Carolyn Basette Kennedy, Lily-Rose Depp, and Rosie Huntington-Whiteley.

You almost definitely study a humanities subject. You were your English teachers’ darling in school, and still cherish a strong emotional connection to her. You are nostalgic about everything in the best way possible.

Your favourite novel will likely be one of the following: Pride and Prejudice, Mrs. Dalloway, Atonement, or Little Women. You have exquisite taste in coffee shops, and know all the best routes in Durham for a picturesque evening walk, wired headphones plugged in as you listen to Mazzy Star, sipping a chai latte. 

Afghan Coat - You’re intimidating, but in a very cool way. Artfully smudged black eyeliner, stacked chunky gemstone rings, and ropes of Recreation Jewels necklaces are your uniform. You always keep a battered copy of The Bell Jar, On the Road, or Patti Smith’s Just Kids in the bottom of your canvas tote bag. We all wish we were you, but also tend to avoid eye contact when we see you approaching, for fear of unwantedly encroaching upon your vibe.