Ulster in Herdwick tweed in light sheep

Prices exclude VAT, shipping is free, and orders leave the workshop within three working days.


£930.00 — ex VAT

Long, double-breasted coat, made in London, with heavy (28oz) tweed woven in Scotland — in a mill in an old boat-shed on the Morayshire coastline, no less, operated every step of the way singlehandedly with weaving contraptions of Victorian heritage — using the natural and undyed wool of Herdwick sheep from the Lake District, and horn buttons from the Midlands.


Sold out almost if not entirely, this, by the looks of it. However, it might very well come back again some day — albeit likely in different cloth, or with a tweak or two, here and there. To be notified as soon as the time comes around, kindly please send word to .


The Ulster fits true to size, so the mannequin — so perfect a 40 he has it branded on his chest — wears a size M. There is a degree of tailored shape in the body, so for a more relaxed fit to accommodate chunky layers, go up one size.

To fit chest 36 38 40 42 44
Pit-to-pit 20 21 22 23 24
Sweep 21½ 22½ 23½ 24½ 25½
Back length 42 42¼ 42½ 42¾ 43
Sleeve from centre-back 33½ 34 34½ 35 35½

The method of sleeve construction, with the sleeve cut as one continuous panel from neck to cuff, means the shoulders accommodate and drape smoothly over human contours of every shape and size — rendering a shoulder measurement both impossible and irrelevant.

The Ulster is one of the certifiable big-hitters of traditional British outerwear — a long, double-breasted, large-collared slugger, hailing legend has it from the dockyards of Belfast circa 1850. This one follows and respects true Ulster orthodoxy, but has an updated moveset for everyday usefulness and userfriendliness.
The Ulster has what's known as, yes, an Ulster collar. It is sharply angled at the front, but with points slightly rounded, and is cut to be just as happy standing up, skimming the neck at the sides and back, as it is sitting down — but even then, it is proud, and is never concave or flat or in any way apologetic.
The broad lapel on the Ulster may be swept easily across the front of the body and fastened to a small button partially obscured beneath the collar — an instant four layers of tweed gained between man and world. There is then the option to keep the collar up or to fold it down over the employed lapel.
The buttons on the Ulster are large, and are horn — fair in colour and matte in finish — and each is a little different from one to the next. They are in that regard as if alpha-keratin snowflakes — such is the beauty of being a product of a high-grade natural material, rather than, say, a plastic replica.
The Ulster has four pockets at the front: below the large flap pockets can be found in-seam pockets, stationed at just the right lateral and longitudinal coordinates for the instinctive plunging-in of hands. Two additional pockets — jetted in-breast pockets — are on the inside of the coat.
An innovative sleeve, this, combining the sharp and smart and traditional look of a inset sleeve at the front — such as always on coats of this ilk — with the ease and comfort of a Dolman sleeve at the back. It equals a very soft shoulder, draping smoothly over the lines of the wearer, and great movement.
There's a short cuff tab, running backwards from the outer sleeve seam, which offers two levels of tightness.
At the back lurks a deep vent, extending over a third up the length of the coat. It is constructed in the old-fashioned and faintly over-complicated manner of mid-century British walking coats, and means there's more coat to the coat to expand when the wearer lurches forwards or sideways.
Also at the back is a half-belt, running between the rear seams. It is fixed in place, but has buttons which enable it to be tightened by an inch and a half. It breaks up what is a fairly long body, and helps pull things together, both literally and figuratively, by introducing a sense of shape at the middle.
The Ulster is lined halfway down the back with a smooth and slinky satin, cut as a single panel. It helps greatly with sliding the coat on and off, being as the outer cloth has the potential for friction. The sleeves, too, are lined with the same cloth.
Pray you never run into the Herdwick sheep on a dark night in the Lake District. They're a tough, rough breed, see, and the character which sees them endure the wind and rain of Cumbria at 3,000 feet finds its way into this cloth. It's a heavy, coarse, wiry tweed, very much at one with the great outdoors.

As worn

Him, here, is as standard a 38 chest as ever there was. He is thus wearing a size S.
It's the same setup here, with a young man with 38 chest in an Ulster of size S.

Makers of

The coat is made in north-east London. It is a very specialised skill, assembling coats from heavy cloth, and every reasonable step — and the odd unreasonable step — is taken to ensure things are built to last, from the cutting of the pattern to the work on the machine, but without the results being stiff or bulky.
The tweed is woven with wool shorn from Herdwick sheep — a breed native for millennia to the Lake District: rumoured to have first found their way to the Britain when the Vikings were in town. It is gnarly and thick yarn, and requires great skill and willpower to get it to do even close to what you'd want.
It is woven on a foot-powered loom built when George V was still feeling his way into the job, in a boat-shed on the banks of the Moray Firth, and is operated by a weaver whose weaving prowess has taken her almost as far around the globe as the miles clocked up every year in pedalling that loom.
Every now and then along comes a cloth which reminds you why you do what you do; cloth special in and of itself, infused not only with a big hit of lanolin, but origin and provenance — and by extension an invisible-but-there presence and authority — worth blathering on about. This is one such cloth.
The horn buttons were cut, shaped, and polished by the last such factory in Britain (now defunct). It was part of a tradition in the Midlands first linked to the meat industry of the 18th century. "It is no easy task," said William Hutton in 1780, "to enumerate the infinite diversity of buttons made in Birmingham."

So they say

I've just received the Ulster, and it's truly unlike anything else in my wardrobe. The lapels are quite expressive, with a smooth roll as if having canvas within them. A few years ago, I visited the north-west [of England] and touched some sheeps with rough grey-streaked coats and white heads. Touching this coat brings me back to that good time. That being said, it is quite heavy, so I intend to reserve it for occasional snowy days, making it even more special.

Heartwarming and Proustian reflections from a man in the States who acquired the Ulster in Herdwick tweed in early November 2023.

[The Ulster] has arrived and I’m blown away, as always!

So said a man in London who bought the Ulster in Herdwick tweed in October 2023.