Cord, raglan; raglan, cord

Some things, some say, are meant to be. This may or may not be true. But it is one way to explain the coming together of Lancastrian cord and the half-hidden placket raglan shirt — for so long in opposite corners of the outerwear factory floor, but now united in three colours.

Dusty-green corduroy raglan shirt worn with cream wool-cotton semi-cutaway shirt and charcoal-grey tapered trousers.

The new corduroy raglan shirt probably isn’t the result of the bidding of a hand unseen or celestial coincidence, but is likely simply a happy consequence of two complementary things spending many months together in the close confines of the factory. Such is the way patterns sometimes inch towards the cloth for which they will perhaps be best served, those many months were necessary for the sudden conclusion to be reached that this cord and that raglan shirt so forehead-slappingly obviously belong with each other.

The resulting shirt skirts close to overshirt territory. The cloth is sufficiently soft on the reverse to be as snug against the skin as cotton can be — the calling card of grade-A Lancastrian cord — but is also deceptively thick, with the authority requisite to carry itself as an able mid-layer. Construction helps here, too — with extensive use of lap-seams for strength and dependability, and a tweaked collar-stand helping the collar sit just a little higher on the neck, so as to dominate the collars of shirts worn underneath.

Not so much an alignment of stars then, come to think of it — but meant to be nevertheless. Give the cord and the raglan shirt your blessings in the shop or workshop, where slate-grey and green (11-wale) and nearly-black (9-wale) versions can be found.