The Duffle Coat: Monastic Origins and Military Adoption

The duffle coat takes its name from Duffel, a town in Belgium producing thick napped woollen fabric. Earliest ancestors were hooded robes worn by Carthusian monks in medieval Belgium, whose austere lifestyle demanded practical clothing. Fishermen and labourers adopted the coat for protection against harsh winters.

The military chapter began in World War II when the Royal Navy issued a standardised version for North Atlantic service. Made from heavy camel wool, it featured a hood fitting over a naval cap and toggle fastenings operable with frozen hands. Field Marshal Montgomery wore his so frequently it became the 'Monty coat.'

After the war, surplus coats flooded the British market. Left-wing intellectuals, CND marchers, students, and bohemians wore them as a uniform of earnest nonconformity. The coat appeared on everyone from Paddington Bear to Harold Pinter's characters.

Gloverall, founded in London in 1951, purchased surplus stock from the British Admiralty and produced civilian versions. Gloverall introduced lighter-weight blends, improved buffalo horn toggles, and broader colour ranges (https://www.gloverall.com). It remains the most prominent maker today.

Gloverall's name is a contraction of the gloves and overalls its founders sold before the Admiralty stock arrived, which fairly summarises the company's plain-goods instincts. Judge a duffle on the toggles first. Real buffalo horn is uneven in colour, cool to the touch and slightly translucent at the edges; moulded plastic is uniform and warm. Then the loops: waxed jute rope or leather, rather than a synthetic cord that frays into a bristle within two winters.

The toggle-and-loop system is the duffle coat's most distinctive feature. Horn or wood toggles with jute or leather loops allow one-handed fastening, originally a necessity for sailors handling rigging. This gives the garment its chunky nautical aesthetic.

Test the hood before buying. The original Admiralty pattern was cut deep enough to go over a naval cap, and a duffle whose hood will not close over a woollen hat has been drawn by someone who has never worn one in weather. The rest of the fit is deliberately generous: dropped shoulders, a wide body, sleeves cut for a jumper beneath. Buying a duffle in your usual jacket size and then layering under it defeats the design.

Styling means embracing informality. It pairs with denim, corduroy, chunky knitwear, and boots. Attempting to wear one with a suit creates jarring incongruity. Ideal companions: merino rollneck, selvedge jeans, and brogue boots.

Napped wool of thirty-odd ounces has predictable failings. It pills at the cuffs and under the arms, which a sweater comb or pumice stone fixes in ten minutes. Horn toggles crack if the coat dries on a radiator, so hang it clear of heat. Rope loops fray and are the cheapest part to replace, a job Gloverall and most cobblers will do. A well-kept Monty runs to twenty years, which is one reason its £400-plus price is defensible.

The duffle coat's appeal lies in honest utilitarianism. It does not aspire to elegance. What it offers is warmth, durability, and a visual identity recognisable from a hundred metres. For the man valuing function and character over polish, a well-made duffle coat is one of the smartest cold-weather investments.