Is hi-tech fabric a cut above?

Modern outdoor clothing has now reached astonishing levels of complexity. The current crop tends to be spun from exotic fabrics produced in laboratories by Nobel prize-winning material scientists, and comes with all sorts of stats and attached technical performance literature. These offerings in contemporary outdoor apparel claim to be waterproof enough to resist the onslaught of the most extreme storms, breathable enough to wick away any perspiration you might release on a challenging stalk, and insulating enough to keep you snug as a bug in a rug if the mercury in the thermometer goes down like a homesick mole. But is technical clothing really necessary and does it outperform its non-synthetic counterparts? 

Legendary Scottish sportsman Osgood Mackenzie, along with countless gamekeepers, performed all sorts of extraordinary sporting feats throughout the bitter Highland winters of the mid-19th century wearing little more than stiff tweed jackets, a Glengarry bonnet and a scratchy pair of plus-fours. So does latex really last longer than leather, is spandex smoother than silk, acrylic more accommodating than alpaca or microfibre more majestic than merino? 

When I was growing up in Galloway, my parents first kindly allowed my brother and me to have a boys’ shoot day when we were in our early teens. As a 13 or 14-year-old, my shooting kit was composed of a ragtag jumble of unclaimed garments that I had scrounged from around the house. The centrepiece of my outfit for the day was a moth-eaten, adult-sized waxed shooting coat that I had discovered in the depths of the boot room. Bedecked with holey cartridge pockets and a faint musk of dog, it hung awkwardly from my gangly frame. 

Shooting shirts were usually borrowed from my stepfather and billowed like spinnakers before being squashed into deep folds under old jumpers. The only ties we owned were from school or were once again pilfered from the back of the door of my stepfather’s dressing room. These wonderful faded silk ties were comically long, and their tips used to loll untidily below the bottom of our jumpers like the tongues of panting spaniels. 

Feminine 

Breeks for a two-thirds-sized person were an especially tricky acquisition. My first pair were a terribly feminine, white corduroy set that once belonged to my mother and actually fitted me rather nicely. My brother Oscar was too small for any of the second-hand breeks that could be excavated from the home supply, so he had to make do with tucking his jeans into his shooting socks.

This was more or less the shooting outfit that I wore for several years. Very slowly, across birthdays, Christmases and the odd visit to a game fair, my shooting get-up was augmented with clothing that fitted a bit better, made everything rather more weatherproof and allowed me to look slightly less like an end-of-season scarecrow. 

It wasn’t until well into my late teens when I shot my first stag that I ever got to experience technical clothing from the inside. Up until this point I had never really heard of Gore-Tex and still vaguely associated the name with some form of American fusion cuisine. However, when my parents bought me some Gore-Tex-lined stealth tweed salopettes and matching smock from an outdoor company called Nomad, I finally had a glimpse of the dark side. 

My Gore-Tex-lined stalking gear performed fantastically. As the leg fabric rubbed together as I walked it was silent and kept me warm, dry and generally absurdly comfortable. But it began a bit of an internal battle concerning sporting clothing that has smouldered within me since that first pleasant outing. 

I have always felt fearful of seeming like an “all the gear and no idea” sort. The thought of being perceived as the type who marches up and down Fort William high street in the shadow of Ben Nevis, scuttling from tea parlour to book shop, dressed entirely in spotless Day-Glo hi-spec mountaineering clothing, with double walking poles and top-end stalking boots, but no intention of stepping off the tarmac, fills me with dread. 

This was also a stigma attached to technical gear when I was in the Army. There was always fevered gossiping when anyone arrived on exercise with some brand new “non-issue” kit. There was a certain sense that those who bought sleek Arc’teryx gear, or the hallowed Keela smock to ease their time in the field, were somehow cheating and making things easier for themselves. Eventually I came to the realisation that this reaction was a combination of jealousy and macho posturing. 

Unencumbered by this misplaced suspicion for technical clothing, I have been free to appreciate the benefits of both sides of the coin. For a day shooting in the south in September or October, I often only wear a jumper and the Harris tweed blazer that my parents had made for me by Livingston tailors in Castle Douglas for my 21st birthday. However, if the heavens open, I will certainly be reaching for something with a decent waterproof rating. 

Outfitters 

Rural clothing outfitter Hoggs of Fife has found a fabulous middle ground in which the majority of its outerwear blends a traditional look with bang-up-to-date technical performance. Its Kinloch technical tweed fieldcoat is made from a tweed that is 100% lambswool reinforced with a drop liner membrane, taped seams and a Teflon coating that make the coat watertight. 

Alan Paine has an equally handsome range of waterproof shooting coats, and its Combrook men’s waterproof tweed coat is a peach of garment. Once again, the Combrook is entirely woollen, but with a hi-tech APEX durable membrane slipped into the lining. The Combrook is chock full of thoughtful touches such as eyelets to drain a damp pocket and storm cuffs to keep your shirt sleeves dry in a cyclone. Both these features look tremendously old-school and would pair wonderfully with a classic flannel shirt. 

On a calm shooting day with minimal precipitation, I will hunt out some ancient, faded moleskin breeks, but if there is anything approaching heavy weather, I will reach for something windproof to protect my pins. A design with chevron patterning will convincingly imitate tweed for a conventional look. But while breeks are de rigueur for a day at the peg, I have tried stalking in them and for me they don’t quite fulfil the brief, even with gaiters. 

The demands out on the hill are generally more intense and they call for a greater reliance upon high specification clothing. If you are after stags at the end of the summer, it is easy to overdress if the terrain is even slightly bumpy. During the mild conditions of early autumn, I favour trousers like the Sitka Gear Ascent pant as sold by Fine Shooting Accessories. The Cordura, nylon and spandex blend means you can barely feel that you are wearing anything. They don’t impede movement at all but will still protect you from undergrowth with their tough outer shell and reinforced mesh knees. 

If you are heading out after the hinds in the depths of winter, it is time to eschew old-fashioned fabrics. I was out in the mountains above Loch Earn on a snowy day earlier this year and I was head to toe in technical gear. 

The Mehto 2.0 trousers from Finnish outdoor expert Sasta are absolutely top of the line. Their brushed surface makes movement hauntingly silent and the Gore- Tex lining is totally impervious to moisture. The design is extremely versatile for different terrains or seasons and braces keep the trousers perfectly in place throughout intense, twisting activity. 

Jacket-wise, if you are clinging to a Scottish mountain in pursuit of a deer, then in my book it really has to be a smock. I love a traditional Swanndri woollen smock, but they do eventually saturate and let the water in, unlike the Ridgeline Monsoon Classic smock on sale at Highland Outdoors. I love a smock that’s long enough that you can sit on its cape and the Monsoon has a premium waterproof rating of 10,000mm with a breathability of 5,000g of moisture vapour transmission through each square metre of fabric per hour. 

Articulated 

If you are hunting above the treeline and need a little extra warmth, the Stoney Creek Tundra smock may be a good alternative. The Tundra’s ultra-tough exterior is made from 5,000mm Oxford nylon, which is highly resistant to tears and abrasion from rocks and undergrowth. It has silicone-dotted grippy shoulders to keep packs or rifles from slipping, as well as articulated elbow joints for increased mobility. There is a roomy chest pocket for binoculars so you don’t need a bulky harness and it stops them bumping on your chest. 

In the dry cold or light snow, a decent argument can be made for traditional materials such as tweed. Merino wool is still at the cutting edge for use in thermals but if there are high levels of outside precipitation and you need your clobber to be light, you must go for modern materials. Most of the technical driven shooting gear is designed to look like traditional clothing, so you don’t need to make any hard sartorial decisions.