Yes, that’s my father’s coat

In 1879, Thomas Burberry invented gabardine, a revolutionary waterproof material that soon outfitted Polar expeditions, leading the British army to commission a coat for WWI soldiers, which would trickle down from officers to civilians and become what we now know as the trench coat. 

In 1989, 110 years later, my father walked into the Burberry flagship store in Picadilly, London, and left with, among other things, a classic beige trench coat from the brand.

In 2026, 147 years since Thomas Burberry’s lightbulb moment, I find myself packing that very same coat for my travels.

Among wardrobe heroes, the trench coat is a decorated veteran. In the 1940s, it starred alongside Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, where it came to spell mystery and noir cinema. In the 1960s and ’70s, thanks to Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and then Meryl Streep in Kramer vs Kramer, it stood for the ultimate in city sophistication. (Around the time my father bought his, Gordon Gekko’s boxy version stormed the screens in the Michael Douglas starrer Wall Street.)

Over the years Burberry itself has experimented with the form of the trench coat in multiple ways. Fast forward to the early aughts when former creative director Christopher Bailey sent out iterations using lace, studs, and leather. Then came Riccardo Tisci’s moodier, more rock and roll era at the brand and now Daniel Lee’s heritage-forward, slightly grungy vibe, which focuses on oversized tailoring and softness in silhouette. With the exception of the ‘chav’ period in the late ’90s and early aughts—where the Burberry check became associated with tabloid excess and tacky monogram mania—the trench coat continues to endure.

In recent weeks, all the cool girls have been spotted wearing a version of the trench. There was Kendall Jenner in Milan, who paired hers with a navy sweater knotted over her shoulder and wide-leg pants. There was Daisy Edgar-Jones (bootie and jeans), Hailey Bieber in Australia in a cropped Magda Butrym version, Simone Ashley’s silk Toteme version over a dress in Cannes, and Rosie Huntington-Whiteley all buttoned up in Phoebe Philo in Paris.

Not that the trench ever went away, but it’s safe to say it needs to be front and centre in your closet.

One of the many lessons my parents passed down to my sister and me was the idea of buying quality—fewer but timeless pieces that can be worn again and again and that can (with care and love) be passed down. That probably explains why I found myself pilfering my father’s trench a few months ago. My father’s love for clothing and fashion runs deep. For decades he ran a garment export house, supplying to some of the world’s leading department stores. Occupational hazard aside, he’s always loved collecting pieces, which he archives and preserves meticulously. It’s also why as children, we were never allowed to ‘borrow’ any of his things, but that’s a story for another day.

The Burberry trench coat was no different. In its original garment bag (which is pretty incredible given that it’s over three decades old), with a matching plaid scarf and a wool inner to layer, the beige coat looks as good as new. And I discovered the sweetest detail—his initials monogrammed on the inside.

As a fashion writer, I’ve always believed that clothes tell the best stories. They are the most effective memory keepers; we all have pieces in our wardrobe that remind us of a certain day, a moment, an era in our lives. They remind us of love, of loss, of joy, of the person we used to be.

When I asked my dad about the memories he associates with the trench, the stories that come out are of a man travelling across Europe trying to build a business; of a young father taking his kids to Disneyland and to see Buckingham Palace; of road-trip holidays he took with my mother and their friends. I remember vividly as a child my father wearing the trench coat and often being mistaken on the streets of London and Edinburgh for Colombo, the famous detective played by Peter Falk. (He cheekily went along with it.) Falk never wore the Burberry trench, but his similar beige version was no less iconic and became part of our family lore. In the pre-Instagram era, my father’s clothes, like this coat, remind him of moments that were not captured in a photo but live on in his mind and heart and in the stories that make a life.

When I wear his trench, the fit for me is slightly boxy, more masculine, but I find it an easy addition to my wardrobe. It can be thrown over a sweater and jeans or over a slightly thicker wool dress when I travel between seasons; this summer I plan to wear it with a simple white tee, jeans, and a pair of Adidas gazelles for a hint of colour.

But styling, aside, what I take from it is a part of my father and his history wherever I go. It seems apt that, given that my love for travel and fashion came from both my parents, this piece becomes almost totemic in my wardrobe as I build experiences with my own family.

And maybe, someday, my daughter will feel the same way about it too.