Every spring I do this thing where I convince myself that this year will be different. This year I’ll nail the whole breezy summer wardrobe thing, you know? I’ll be one of those women who look effortlessly chic in white linen, carrying a wicker basket to farmers markets, never getting caught in the rain because somehow they’ve figured out the secret British weather code the rest of us missed.
Spoiler alert: I have not figured out the code. Nobody has figured out the code because there is no code. British summer weather is just chaos dressed up as a season.
But here’s what I have figured out after years of getting soaked in inappropriate clothing – how to build a summer wardrobe that doesn’t leave you shivering at bus stops or frantically googling “is Primark still open” when the temperature drops fifteen degrees between lunch and teatime.
The magazines won’t tell you this because it’s not particularly aspirational, but the foundation of any British summer wardrobe has to be… more clothes. I know, revolutionary. But seriously, if you’re not prepared to carry extra layers from May through September, you’re setting yourself up for misery. I learned this the hard way during what I now call “The Great Barbecue Disaster of 2019” when I spent three hours wrapped in a decorative throw from someone’s living room because I’d worn a sleeveless top and the weather decided to cosplay as November.
Now I always have a cardigan in my bag. Always. It’s become such a compulsion that my friends tease me about it, but guess who they come running to when the pub garden turns arctic at seven PM? The cardigan lady, that’s who. Mine’s this oatmeal-colored merino thing from Uniqlo that cost about forty quid and has probably saved me from hypothermia at least six times. It’s boring but it works, which is basically the motto for my entire approach to British summer dressing.
The summer dress situation requires some serious reality checking too. Forget those tiny strappy numbers that require perfect weather and even more perfect underwear. What you need is a dress that can handle the fact that British summer operates on about seven different temperature settings, sometimes within the same hour. My go-to is this navy cotton shirt dress from Toast that I’ve worn so much it should probably qualify for a pension. It’s got proper sleeves – not those decorative cap sleeves that are basically useless – and it works whether it’s twenty-five degrees or fifteen degrees, whether I’m wearing sandals or boots, whether I remembered to moisturize my legs or not.
That last point is crucial, actually. British summer means you need to be prepared for emergency leg coverage when the weather turns. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen women standing miserably in beer gardens, clearly freezing in tiny dresses, too proud to admit defeat. Don’t be that woman. Life’s too short and summer’s too unpredictable.
I’ve also learned to be realistic about fabric choices. Linen looks gorgeous in those aspirational Instagram posts, but in real life – British real life – it creases the moment you sit down and turns transparent the second it meets moisture. Which in Britain means it’s transparent roughly seventy percent of the time. Cotton or cotton blends are much more sensible, even if they don’t have that whole Mediterranean holiday vibe.
The trouser situation has taken me ages to crack. White jeans are obviously a disaster waiting to happen – and trust me, it will happen, usually within minutes of leaving the house. I’ve found these dark denim culottes that work surprisingly well because they’re cool enough for warm days but don’t look ridiculous with tights when the temperature plummets. Plus the cropped length means they don’t trail in puddles, which is a genuine concern when you live somewhere that considers “scattered showers” to be a season rather than a weather pattern.
I’ve also invested in what I call my “serious summer trousers” – linen-cotton blend things from Me+Em that cost more than my monthly Netflix subscription but have earned their keep through constant wear. They’re this olive green color that hides pretty much everything – grass stains from emergency picnic relocations, mud from festival fields, the general grime that accumulates when you’re constantly dodging between shops to avoid sudden downpours.
Footwear is where things get really complicated. You need sandals because it is technically summer and your feet deserve to see daylight occasionally. But you also need closed shoes for when the weather decides to have a tantrum. My compromise is decent leather sandals – none of those flimsy flip-flop things that’ll have you hobbling when you need to make a dash for cover – and a pair of white trainers that can be wiped clean after muddy encounters. Not glamorous, but functional.
The waterproof jacket is probably the least fashionable but most essential piece of the whole operation. I resisted this for years because it felt like admitting defeat, but honestly? Getting properly soaked while trying to maintain some idealized vision of summer style is way more defeating than just accepting reality and buying decent rain gear. Mine’s from Rains in this dusty blue color that doesn’t make me look like I’m about to climb a mountain, and it scrunches down small enough to fit in most bags. Revolutionary stuff, really.
Speaking of bags – size matters. You need something big enough for the emergency cardigan, possibly a compact umbrella, maybe a backup pair of shoes if you’re feeling really organized. But not so massive that you look like you’re going camping every time you pop to the shops. I’ve got this coated canvas tote from Ally Capellino that’s survived three summers of being stuffed with weather contingency plans and the occasional use as emergency head coverage.
Now look, I know this all sounds deeply unsexy. Where’s the summer romance? The flowing fabrics? The je ne sais quoi? Here’s the thing – you can still have those moments, but you have to be strategic about it. Save the completely impractical pieces for the rare perfect days, or for actual holidays somewhere with reliable weather. For everyday British summer life, comfort and preparedness trump aspiration every time.
I do allow myself a few completely ridiculous purchases each year – a proper sundress that only gets worn twice, some espadrilles that make no practical sense, a straw bag that’s only useful for looking seasonal in photos. These things serve an important psychological purpose even if they’re meteorologically useless. Hope is important, even when it’s completely unjustified.
The real trick is adding summer through accessories rather than banking everything on weather-inappropriate clothing. Bright lipstick that says “summer” even when the sky says “apocalypse.” Statement earrings that catch whatever light manages to penetrate the cloud cover. A printed scarf that doubles as an emergency picnic blanket when all the benches are suspiciously damp.
You know what I’ve realized after all these years of getting British summer wrong? The secret isn’t really about the clothes at all. It’s about managing expectations. Accept that you’ll get caught in the rain at least weekly between June and September. Accept that you’ll be too hot and too cold within the same afternoon. Accept that the weather app is basically just creative fiction, and always have a backup plan.
Because here’s the thing about British summer – when it does deliver, when you actually get to use those impractical sandals and that optimistic sundress, it feels magical precisely because it’s so rare. Those perfect days in pub gardens when everyone’s desperately soaking up the sunshine, when parks fill with people making the most of every ray before the clouds roll back in – that’s peak British summer right there.
My wardrobe might include more knitwear than the fashion magazines would recommend for July. It might make practical concessions that aren’t particularly aspirational. But it means I can actually enjoy our weird, unpredictable excuse for a summer season instead of spending it either inappropriately dressed or constantly disappointed.
And on that one miraculous day when the temperature hits twenty-five degrees and stays there for more than an hour? That’s when the white linen dress makes its annual appearance. Because while preparation is essential for British summer survival, maintaining completely irrational optimism in the face of meteorological chaos is what makes it British summer in the first place.
Right, I need to check the forecast again. It’s promising sunshine for the weekend, which definitely means I should pack thermals for the “garden” party I’m supposed to attend. But I’ll throw in my sunglasses too, because if there’s anything more British than expecting the worst, it’s hoping for the best despite all available evidence.
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.
