There’s this specific type of British suffering that kicks in around day three of a heatwave, you know? Like, the first day everyone’s posting sunset pics and “finally some proper weather!” but by day three we’re all lying on kitchen floors at 2am because the tiles are slightly less hot than our beds. Last July I genuinely considered sleeping in my local Tesco because it was the only place with functioning air conditioning within a five-mile radius of my flat.
The thing about British heatwaves is that literally nothing here is designed for actual hot weather. Our houses are basically heat traps built for keeping out the cold, offices still blast heating like it’s December even when the pavement outside is melting, and air conditioning is this mythical luxury that only exists in chain restaurants and the homes of people who somehow planned ahead. Which creates this insane fashion challenge of trying to dress for temperatures that make you question your will to live while still looking like a functioning human being.
I’ve been dealing with this chaos for years now, and honestly? The boutique where I work becomes this weird laboratory during heatwaves. You see what actually works versus what just looks like it should work. Those cute cropped blazers everyone’s always posting about? Absolute torture devices when it’s 32 degrees. That perfectly fitted cotton tee that photographs so well for content? Basically a sweat roadmap that shows exactly where your body touches fabric.
The fabric situation becomes everything during proper heat. Cotton sounds obvious but not all cotton is the same – you want loose, lightweight stuff that barely touches your skin. I learned this the hard way during that nightmare heatwave in 2022 when I wore what I thought was a sensible cotton dress to work and basically turned into a walking puddle by lunchtime. The dress was clinging to every part of me that could possibly sweat, which apparently is everywhere when you’re British and experiencing actual hot weather.
Linen is obviously the holy grail but even then you have to be smart about it. Those structured linen pieces that look so chic on Instagram? They’ll make you feel like you’re wearing a straightjacket made of sandpaper when it’s properly hot. What you actually want is the soft, already-wrinkled looking linen that seems shapeless on the hanger. I have this dress from COS that I originally thought was too baggy to be flattering but during last summer’s heat apocalypse it became my uniform. The thing just skims your body instead of touching it, which is honestly revolutionary when you’re basically living in an oven.
I did this extremely scientific experiment last summer (okay fine, I just took notes on my phone about which outfits made me want to dramatically fake my own death) and that shapeless COS dress won by miles. It had this perfect low neckline that prevented that gross under-chin sweat situation, hit at this magical length that let air circulate but wasn’t so short I’d stick to every surface I sat on. Game changer.
The weird surprise winner was actually a jumpsuit, which seems totally counterintuitive because you’re basically wearing a onesie. But this wide-leg cotton one from Whistles was incredible – loose enough that air could actually move around, sleeveless so no awful armpit situations, and the one-piece thing meant no waistbands cutting into your heat-swollen middle. Only downside is having to get completely naked every time you need the toilet but honestly that’s a small price to pay for not feeling like you’re slowly cooking.
Some stuff that looks perfect for hot weather is actually hellish in practice. Those paper-bag waist shorts that are all over TikTok? Basically wearing a garbage bag around the hottest part of your body. Anything with elastic waistbands becomes torture when you’re already swollen from heat. And polyester – even the “breathable” modern blends – turns into wearable cling film the second temperatures hit 25 degrees.
My coworker who’s originally from somewhere actually hot taught me about doing a “sweat audit” before buying anything for summer. You basically run your hand inside the garment and ask yourself: if I sweated here, would it show dramatically, create weird damp patches, or dry quickly without evidence? Only things that pass the quick-dry test make it into rotation. Sounds obvious but it’s saved me from so many purchases that would’ve been disasters.
Underwear becomes weirdly critical during heatwaves, which isn’t exactly normal conversation but whatever. Cotton is obvious but the cut matters more than you’d think. Those cute Brazilian-style ones might seem like less fabric equals less heat but they can create… uncomfortable situations in exactly the wrong places. Full coverage cotton suddenly makes perfect sense even if it’s not winning any Instagram underwear polls.
Bras are basically instruments of torture when it’s properly hot, no matter how well they fit. The revelation of just wearing cotton bralettes or crop tops feels like personal liberation – yes there’s less support but there’s also way less sweaty elastic digging into your ribcage which seems like a fair trade when you’re already questioning all your life choices.
Shoes are their own special nightmare. Obviously you want minimal coverage but you still have to commute and walk on actual British pavements which are not designed for barefoot living. I went through this whole evolution from flip-flops (terrible for walking anywhere and weirdly sweaty between your toes) to those Birkenstock-style sandals everyone had for like five minutes (better but the footbed gets slippery when you’re really sweating) to proper leather fisherman sandals. Last summer I bought these Grenson ones that cost more than my monthly phone bill but survived three weeks of continuous heat without giving me a single blister. Actual miracle.
Office dressing during heatwaves is its own special hell because most workplaces still have dress codes written for normal British weather, aka constantly mild and depressing. This girl I know who works at some fancy law firm has mastered what she calls “stealth cooling” – outfits that look professional but have hidden heat-friendly elements. Wide-leg linen-blend trousers that pass for formal, sleeveless shells under blazers you can discretely remove, dresses that look appropriate but are in fabrics that don’t cling to every sweaty surface.
The trick is having that one structured piece – usually a lightweight blazer – that you can throw on for important moments then immediately remove when you’ve satisfied the professional appearance requirements. I’ve seen people keep silk scarves at their desks not for warmth but to throw over shoulders when the air conditioning randomly decides to blast arctic air, creating that uniquely British situation of being overheated and freezing simultaneously.
Working from home during heatwaves changes everything. My WFH heat uniform is basically “presentable from waist up” – decent cotton tops for video calls paired with the shortest, loosest shorts I own for off-camera comfort. I keep a spray bottle in the fridge to mist myself between meetings which makes me feel like a sad houseplant but provides actual relief. I know people who’ve done entire professional Zoom calls with their feet in buckets of cold water – the modern version of keeping your professional composure while internally screaming.
Evening plans during heatwaves are especially challenging because we’re all determined to “make the most of the weather” even while slowly dissolving into puddles of sweat. Last summer I went to this garden party on literally the hottest day of the year wearing a loose linen midi in a dark pattern (strategically chosen to hide sweat marks) and brought a cotton shirt to drape over my shoulders for mosquitoes, though crucially the temperature never actually dropped.
The most important thing I’ve learned about British heatwave dressing is that layers are actually more practical than single minimal items because our infrastructure can’t maintain consistent temperatures to save its life. That cute sundress might seem perfect for 33-degree heat but becomes useless the second you step into an overzealous air-conditioned shop or experience one of those random temperature drops that remind you you’re still in Britain regardless of what the thermometer says.
My heatwave wardrobe has evolved through multiple disasters (including a silk dress that became a literal sweat mapping system during a wedding) into something actually functional. Three loose linen dresses in dark or printed fabrics, two pairs of wide-leg linen trousers, several oversized cotton shirts, basic cotton tanks, one lightweight cardigan for aggressive air conditioning, leather fisherman sandals, minimal slides, and an emergency cooling kit that lives in my bag from June through September.
The British approach to heatwave dressing will always be kind of improvised because investing heavily in clothes for weather that might happen for two weeks total per year feels ridiculous. But as these extreme temperature spikes become more common, maybe we need to be more intentional about hot weather wardrobes. Not panic-buying whatever H&M puts on display the moment it hits 25 degrees, but actually collecting pieces that work for our specific British heat challenges – needing to look professional while melting, dealing with insane temperature differences between outside and public transport, knowing it might rain even during a heatwave.
During the peak of last July’s heat nightmare, I saw this woman on the Central Line (basically the closest experience to being slow-cooked available in modern Britain) who had clearly figured out heatwave dressing. Sleeveless loose navy linen jumpsuit, simple leather slides, straw bag with what looked like a cotton cardigan, water bottle, and portable fan. She looked completely cool while the rest of us resembled various stages of heat-induced breakdown. Being the nosy person I am, I actually asked her about it, completely abandoning normal tube etiquette of pretending nobody else exists.
She pulled out her portable fan, aimed it at her face then generously at me, and said “Linen, low expectations, and leaving my dignity at home. It’s the only way to survive a British heatwave.”
Honestly? Best advice I’ve ever received while slowly melting on public transport.
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.
