Okay, so I need to tell you about my relationship with rain jackets, which is basically a tragic love story spanning the last three years of Pacific Northwest living. You know how they say Portland is where young people go to retire? Well, they also don’t mention it’s where your fashion sense goes to get systematically destroyed by eight months of drizzle that somehow manages to be both gentle and completely soul-crushing at the same time.
I moved here thinking I was prepared for rain because, you know, I’d visited Seattle once and owned a cute trench coat from Target. What I didn’t realize is there’s regular rain, and then there’s Portland rain, which is less like precipitation and more like the sky has decided to slowly, methodically dissolve you over the course of several months. It’s this constant fine mist that gets under everything – your umbrella, your supposedly waterproof mascara, your will to live.
The breaking point came last November when I was walking to meet some friends at this brewery in Southeast (because of course), wearing what I thought was a decent rain jacket I’d bought from REI during their member sale. I’m talking about a jacket that cost me $120, which for my budget is basically a major purchase requiring a week of rice and beans for dinner. Twenty minutes into what the weather app cheerfully called “light rain,” I was soaked through to my bra. Not damp – actually wet like I’d been swimming. My phone was dead from moisture, my canvas bag had turned into a soggy mess, and I looked like a drowned rat who’d given up on life.
That’s when I decided to figure this whole waterproof thing out once and for all. Because here’s what nobody tells you about living somewhere rainy when you’re broke – you can’t just buy whatever cute rain jacket catches your eye and hope for the best. You need actual protection, but you also can’t afford to drop $400 on some technical outdoor gear that makes you look like you’re about to climb Everest just to walk to the grocery store.
I started reading everything I could find about rain gear, which led me down this rabbit hole of fabric technology that I honestly found kind of fascinating from a design perspective. Turns out there’s a huge difference between “water-resistant” (basically useless), “water-repellent” (okay for light stuff), and actually waterproof (what you actually want). Most fashion rain jackets fall into that first category, which explains why I’d been getting soaked in stuff that was supposed to keep me dry.
The other thing I learned is that breathability matters way more than I thought. You can have a jacket that keeps rain out but traps all your body heat and sweat inside, which means you end up damp anyway, just from the inside out instead. Gross, but important to know.
So I started testing everything I could afford, plus borrowing jackets from friends who were tired of watching me show up places looking like I’d been attacked by a sprinkler system. I’m talking about standing in my tiny backyard during actual rainstorms wearing different coats and timing how long it took to feel moisture, which probably looked completely insane to my neighbors but whatever.
First discovery: Uniqlo’s Blocktech stuff is actually really good for the price. I got their parka for $60 during a sale, and it genuinely keeps water out. The fabric has this slight stretch that doesn’t make you feel like you’re wearing a tarp, and it’s held up through multiple washing machine cycles without losing its water-repelling properties. The hood could be better – it’s kind of shallow and doesn’t stay put when it’s windy – but for commuting around the city, it works.
My biggest surprise was this jacket I found at a thrift store in Hawthorne. It’s from this British brand called Seasalt Cornwall that I’d never heard of, but the tag said it was originally $150 and I got it for $18. Best fashion purchase of my entire adult life, honestly. This thing has survived everything Portland weather has thrown at it, including this one day in February when it was raining so hard that people were literally running for cover and I just walked to work completely dry underneath.
The cut is actually flattering too, which is rare for truly waterproof stuff. Most rain gear is designed like they assume your body is just a cylinder that needs to be covered, but this one nips in at the waist and doesn’t make me look like I’m wearing a garbage bag. Plus it’s this great mustard yellow color that makes me feel slightly less depressed during our endless gray season.
I also tested some higher-end options when I could find them secondhand or on major sale. There’s this Danish brand called Rains that makes these minimalist waterproof jackets that look way more expensive than they are. I found one at Crossroads for $45 that retails for like $95, and the performance is solid. It’s completely waterproof – I’ve worn it in actual downpours and stayed bone dry. The downside is it doesn’t breathe at all, so if you’re walking fast or it’s warm, you’ll end up sweaty. But for just getting from point A to point B without getting soaked, it’s perfect.
The expensive stuff I tested was honestly hit or miss. A friend let me borrow her $300 jacket from Patagonia, which was amazing but also made me look like I was about to go backcountry hiking just to grab coffee. Another friend had this designer trench that cost over $400 and looked gorgeous but failed completely at actually keeping water out. Like, completely failed. After 10 minutes in light rain, water was seeping through the fabric. For $400! I was genuinely offended on her behalf.
What I’ve figured out is that there are basically three categories of rain protection, and you need to be honest about which one you actually need. There’s fashion rain gear, which is for looking good in light drizzle while dashing between car and restaurant. There’s serious weather gear, which is for when Mother Nature is actively trying to drown you. And there’s this middle category – versatile jackets that can handle real rain but don’t make you look like you’re about to rappel down a mountain.
For that middle category, which is what most of us actually need, I keep coming back to a few key features. The hood has to actually work – it needs to stay on your head in wind and have enough coverage to keep rain off your face. The pockets need to either be waterproof themselves or have flaps that actually seal. And the cuffs need to be adjustable, because there’s nothing worse than water running down your sleeves.
I’ve also learned that maintenance matters way more than anyone talks about. That water-repelling coating on most jackets wears off over time, but you can restore it with special wash products. I use this stuff called Nikwax that basically reactivates the waterproofing – it’s like $15 and makes a huge difference. My Uniqlo jacket started letting in water after about a year, but one treatment brought it right back to like-new performance.
The other thing nobody mentions is that truly waterproof often means less breathable, so you’re making trade-offs. For my daily commute, I usually wear something that’s water-repellent rather than completely waterproof because I’m walking fast and don’t want to arrive at work damp with sweat. But when the forecast calls for serious rain, I switch to the fully waterproof stuff and just accept that I might need to layer more strategically.
Price-wise, I’ve found the sweet spot is usually between $60-120 for jackets that actually work. Below that, you’re mostly getting fashion items that look like rain gear but don’t really function. Above that, you’re often paying for brand names or technical features you probably don’t need unless you’re spending hours outdoors in terrible weather.
My current rotation includes that thrifted Seasalt jacket for when I want to look put-together, the Uniqlo parka for casual daily wear, and the Rains jacket for when it’s really coming down. Having options means I’m not trying to make one jacket work for every situation, which honestly has made my relationship with Portland weather so much better.
The biggest lesson from all this testing is that good rain protection doesn’t have to cost a fortune, but it does require being strategic about what you buy. I spent way more money in my first year here on cute jackets that didn’t work than I would have spent just buying one good waterproof coat from the beginning. But figuring out what actually works has been worth it – there’s something genuinely satisfying about being the person who stays dry while everyone else is miserable and soggy.
And honestly? Once you solve the rain jacket problem, living somewhere with this much precipitation becomes way more manageable. I actually kind of love rainy days now, which is something I never thought I’d say. There’s this cozy satisfaction in being properly prepared for weather that’s sending everyone else running for cover.
Claire started Claire Wears to bridge the gap between fashion media and real life. Based in Chicago, she writes with honesty, humor, and a firm “no” to $300 “affordable” shoes. Expect practical advice, strong opinions, and the occasional rant about ridiculous trends.
