The case for a budget fleece

In a café in south-east London a few weeks ago, the woman behind the counter was wearing a plush pale blue fleece that I coveted. It looked slimline but cosy, loose but not oversized, with a double-ended zip, thumbholes in the sleeves and chest pocket that would be good for bank cards.

I asked her where it was from and the answer — Mountain Warehouse — took me by surprise. I also suddenly felt I had to have it.

“It was £15 in the sale,” she said. “It’s my favourite thing that I own.” 

That a bargain fleece from this juggernaut British outdoors chain — which has more than 300 international stores and stocks low-budget wares that enable shoppers to hike, ski, swim, climb and camp, among other pursuits — would spark a fashion-related conversation was, to me, quite amusing. Because no mater what label you slap on it, a fleece is not remotely chic. Later, as I doomscrolled the Mountain Warehouse website, I realised the appeal was exactly that. The no-frills fleece — affordable, asexual, a bit bland and borderline unflattering — has an uncool allure of its own.

Until “normcore” became a bona fide way of urban dressing about a decade ago, the fleece was dad-like and daggy, usually left on the back of an office chair or in the trunk of your car. “It was something people bought because they maybe went camping once, or to an Airbnb in the countryside,” says Jim Tomley, a self-professed fleece fanatic and fibre specialist who has spent 15 years working with brands such as Arc’teryx and The North Face. Pre-pandemic, you’d rarely see a fleece worn off the trails, let alone in a city. And in a pub or restaurant? Forget it.

There’s something ‘almost ironic’ about pairing a brand with an anti-brand

But glance around trendy spots in cities today, and you’ll see plenty of young urbanites wearing fuzzy zip-up tops, even if they’ve never been on a trail. Luxury fashion brands have cottoned on: Japanese brands Kapital, Sacai and Nanamica offer oversized versions for upwards of £500. Drake’s, the London-based go-to men’s brand for modern prep, sells very nice sleeveless styles and Crayola-coloured pullovers for £350; its AW22 collaboration with New York label Aimé Leon Dore offered a bright red take for £695. Balenciaga does a £1,290 camouflage fleece you could probably find a version of in an army surplus store for 1 per cent of the price, while Gucci’s slouchy monogrammed iteration is an assault on the eyes and the bank balance — it costs £2,250.

But Mountain Warehouse is not trendy; its label carries no overt fashion kudos. Ditto Regatta, Berghaus and Craghoppers. For most millennials, those are the brands your dad and your grandad wore — without the hipster accent. Walk into a small branch and for the most part you will find cheap spartan fleeces in safe colours.

And yet, among a certain set in London at least, that’s the point. “They’re very if you know, you know,” says Sam Millen-Cramer, a 28-year-old marketing specialist, who wears his £15 Mountain Warehouse zip-up with baggy pants from Margaret Howell. He thinks there’s something “almost ironic” about pairing a brand with an anti-brand. In a sea of Patagonia pullovers, Craghoppers and Berghaus are more unexpected. It affords them a newfound appeal. A friend of mine went for dinner a while ago and his date turned up in Craghoppers: he texted me afterwards to say he found it alluring. “It was so bold and confident, I thought he must have great muscles underneath.” 

Other 20-somethings are also taking up mass-market fleeces. An Irish friend wears his quarter-zip, mid-green pullover from Berghaus with indigo denims. Another in Newcastle wears his navy Peter Storm fleece with cargo pants for casual and tailored trousers to the office. Layered underneath a blazer, from across the desks he says it “looks a bit like a roll neck”. 

Joshua Geer, a financial reporter, didn’t think twice before snapping up a £30 fleece from Sports Direct before a camping trip a few years ago. He says it’s “naff” but he now wears it every day to the office. “It’s very comfortable and low maintenance in terms of washing,” he says. Julia Williams, a publicist, thinks they’re more convenient than other cosy tops. “They dry quicker than knits or cotton jumpers,” she says.

Indeed. As temperatures plummeted in the UK in December, my Berghaus Polartec fleece (£50), bought last-minute before a camping trip to Norway, has barely been off my back. I got it from a Mountain Warehouse in rural West Cumbria, along with some £10 half-zip pullover styles from Camber and a couple of other bits. I spent £100, and was in and out within 10 minutes. In any other high street store, I’d have stopped to question such quick spending.

But Mountain Warehouse holds a place in the British psyche. Its dominance on British high streets means it’s a reliable mecca for functional buys. Most of us will have visited in pursuit of practical clobber that doesn’t break the bank. Maybe, like my barista, you dipped in for thermal socks and saw a fleece en route to the checkout — adding it to your basket in case the cottage was cold. “It’s hard to not see the appeal of something so affordable and functional,” says Tomley.

Millen-Cramer agrees. He’s a big fan of US running label District Vision’s graphic, monochrome fleeces, which are arguably cool and cost £200. He’s also a fan of the fuzzy styles by Aimé Leon Dore. “But I do think there’s a limit as to how much it’s OK to spend on a fleece,” he says. “I could probably stretch to an expensive outdoorsy one. But from a fashion brand, it just seems a bit . . . wrong?” 

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