The Puffer Jacket Conundrum

It’s fair to say Italy has more than its fair share of world-class fashion designers. Prada. Gucci. Dolce & Gabbana. Versace, Armani, Emilio Pucci, and my favourite of them all, Valentino. Milan is one of the four fashion capitals of the world, and Florence home to some of the best artisan leather producers. Italians are known, perhaps after only the French, for their style and elegance, and I half expected to turn up here and be judged for my pathetic English high street wardrobe by better-off Italians, as they flounced by in a swathe of carefully matched, beautifully produced textiles, their leather brogues click-clacking on the marble pavements. And you better hope those shoes have a good tread. Said shiny marble pavements are a death trap to those of us who dare to wear otherwise.

I have thus been surprised to find myself in a world of, well, puffer jackets. It’s hard to put it any other way. I am literally surrounded by them whenever I leave the house. Like Day of the Triffids but with polyester. It would have been weird enough to see this many puffer jackets in any country, but in one famed for its style, it’s incomprehensible. I cannot get my head around it. It has reached the point where I am starting to see every other type of coat as simply a variety of puffer jacket. Are fur coats not just puffer jackets made in a different fabric? I don’t even know anymore.

Because I know it may sound like I’m exaggerating the number of puffer jackets, I have chosen to provide some photographic evidence. I did consider going out and photographing all the puffer jackets I saw in one day, but given that that would have meant stopping every passerby to ask to take their portrait, I couldn’t be bothered. Sorry. So, here comes some anecdotal pictorial evidence, and you must simply trust me, dear reader, that this is representative of normal life in Italy.

The cloakroom of a museum. Nothing but puffer jackets.

 

 

One of many sources of the puffer epidemic.

THEY’RE EVERYWHERE.

 

Even brides are into them.

Now, whatever your opinion on these things, most people can agree that style comes from individuality comes from NOT ALL WEARING PUFFER JACKETS. I’ve been trying to comprehend their ubiquity ever since ‘winter’ (if a slight wind chill can be described as such) began. I’m sure they are warm, but really it is not that cold, and a good woollen coat would keep any passing chill at bay. If the question is warmth, then why not choose one of many other ways to stay warm? I would rather see someone strolling down the high street in their dressing gown, if only for a little variety.

In good faith, I thought there would really be no other way to get to the root of this by trying one on myself. And so, off I trotted to United Colors of Benetton, where, true to their name, they have a range of colours. But not a range of styles. That’s the point. They’re all the same. Trying one on, a matte purple number, I came to three main conclusions. 1. It made me look like the Michelin man, and who needs that in panettone season? 2. It made my hair go all static. And 3. Okay, I admit it, it was actually pretty warm.

And yet I’m afraid I’m not going to end this blog with the revelation that actually I fell for its cosiness and bought one- but wouldn’t that have been a brilliant shock?! I will, however, say this: the Italian word for the puffer jacket is piumino, a word that also means duvet. If they’ve managed to create a society where it’s okay to go out in what is essentially a waterproof duvet, and not even try to deny it, I guess they’ve won. And, go on then, if Valentino ever makes his own version (and it would only make financial sense, given their popularity), sign me up. But only to try it on.