In the world of motorsports, there are few disciplines as demanding as motorcycle trials. It’s a game of balance, precision, skill and endurance in which competitors must tackle obstacle-filled off-road courses while remaining rubber side down and riding as fast as possible. It’s not unusual for distances to hit triple digits, and here in the UK participants are often subjected to some pretty grim weather conditions to boot. To say suitable clothing is required would be an understatement. This is a sport that requires the toughest of the tough when it comes to kit, which is exactly what led Belstaff to design its now-legendary Trialmaster jacket more than 70 years ago.

From the perilous mountain passes of the Himalayas to the bustling city streets of London, the Trialmaster has since traversed them all. An icon of adventure, it has risen far above its moto-racing roots to become one of England’s most beloved outerwear designs. A quintessentially British spin on the classic motorcycle-jacket formula, favouring wax cotton in place of leather, press-stud bellows instead of chrome- zippered pockets and a mid-length cut to seal out the elements.

Belstaff advertisements from the 1950s, image credit: Mortons Archive

“Hardwearing, thornproof material; fungus, water and rot-proof; all exposed metal fittings are rustless,” as the jacket’s 1959 advertisement in The Motor Cycle magazine so eloquently put it. The Trialmaster’s roots can be traced back to World War I. Eli Belovitch and his son-in-law Harry Grosberg had spent several years supplying tents and groundsheets to the armed forces. After the conflict ended, they founded Belstaff: a portmanteau of Belovitch’s surname and his home county, Staffordshire.

Belovitch and Grosberg were pioneering textile hunters who travelled to all corners of the earth in search of the latest and greatest developments in fabric. It had long been Belovitch’s dream to apply his textile knowledge to motorcycle clothing, and Belstaff became an outlet for his experimental new ideas.

Belstaff Trialmaster Professional Jacket

It was in Egypt that Belovitch first got his hands on wax cotton. This ultra- durable fabric was lightweight, tough and abrasion resistant. Most interestingly to Belovitch, it was also waterproof and breathable – two qualities seldom found together in the days before Gore-Tex. Realising he had something special, he headed home and got to work crafting a new type of motorcycle jacket. Inspired by the Scottish Six Days Trial – the oldest and arguably most gruelling motorcycle event in the world – he eventually used his newfound wonder fabric to create his magnum opus.

“The weatherproof design provided a water-repellent, wind-resistant layer while remaining breathable to help regulate the wearer’s body temperature,” says Sean Lehnhardt-Moore, Creative Director of Belstaff. “Style signatures including the buckled throat latch collar, adjustable waist belt and the four-pocket silhouette were added to ensure the rider was comfortable and protected.

“The tilted chest pocket is probably the most recognisable feature. It was originally attached at an angle as a map pocket to provide easy access while on the bike. This has since become a design signature of Belstaff across the mainline and moto collections.”

Sammy Miller Riding His Hand-Built Sh5 200cc, 1954 Scottish Six Days Trial, he won The Best Newcomer award, image credit: Sammy Miller Archive

When the Trialmaster launched, a young rider by the name of Sammy Miller was quickly rising through the moto-racing ranks. The 18-year-old British rider wrote to Belstaff in 1951 to ask if the company would like to sponsor him, and they accepted. Miller went on to wear Belstaff’s outerwear in upwards of 1,000 races, praising the Trialmaster for its ability to keep him bone dry when other competitors fell victim to the poor weather conditions.

“I was riding in the Scottish Six Days Trial and it rained for five of the six days,” he says. “Belstaff had sent me the green Trialmaster. It was a new design, a new product. I think I was the only dry bloke out of the 300 entries.” One particularly gruesome year came in 1964, when the notorious Scottish weather battered riders with howling wind and torrential rain for the duration of the event. The unrelenting downpour made parts of the course almost unrideable, turning small streams into raging torrents that were near impossible to cross.

Those who were there at the time recall a brave Miller revving up and attempting to jump one such section, only to land midstream in the fast-flowing waist-deep water. He attempted to power through with the carburettor below the water, but his engine died and he was forced to drag himself and his bike up the bank and back onto land to dry out. Unbelievably, he went on to win the event. “I rode better,” he says. “The rest of them were like drowned rats. I used to pray for rain. Softened them up. Easier to beat them.”

Father Graham Hullett, leader of the 59 Club wearing a Belstaff Trialmaster jacket in 1968

Miller wasn’t the only high-profile biker to adopt the Trialmaster. Long before he became known as ‘Che’, a young Ernesto Guevara wore one while solo touring in Argentina on his motorcycle. Away from the road pioneering aviators Amelia Earheart and Amy Johnson both donned Belstaff outerwear for their respective record- breaking solo flights. And British intelligence officer Lawrence of Arabia famously wore the brand in the years between the end of World War I and his untimely death in 1935.

These household names helped to cement the Trialmaster’s reputation as a hardened piece of adventure clothing, but it was the jacket’s Hollywood adopters that brought it to mainstream attention and helped it to become recognised as a work of fashion rather than one purely of function.

During the 1960s and ‘70s, Steve McQueen was one of the biggest names on the planet. He’d starred in hit films The Great Escape, Bullitt and The Thomas Crown Affair, and was often spotted wearing his signature Trialmaster. As a result, the jacket started to develop cult status in the world of celebrity, and over the years its list of notable wearers has grown to include the likes of Johnny Depp, David Beckham, George Clooney, Will Smith and Brad Pitt, to name just a few.

Modern Belstaff Trialmaster Jacket, £595

Today the Trialmaster is firmly established as one of the most significant outerwear designs of the last century. It’s up there with its transatlantic cousin the Schott Perfecto, the MA-1 bomber and the Burberry trench coat in terms of its influence and legacy. Respected by the menswear crowd and intrepid adventurers alike, it’s one of the few pieces of clothing that comfortably inhabits both worlds, bridging the gap between function and fashion.

“It’s an iconic design – quintessentially British with a classic silhouette that is rooted in functionality,” says Belstaff’s Lehnhardt-Moore. “The waxed cotton gives it an authentically worn-in feeling from the start, and it only gets better with age.”

More details at Belstaff.

It’s hard to imagine two style subcultures more fundamentally opposed than streetwear and prep. One has its roots in the anti-establishment skate and surf scene of the American West Coast, while the other can be traced back to the wood-panelled halls of the north east’s elite universities.

The disparity between skaters and preppy kids is something anyone who attended high school or college in the past 40 years will be familiar with. It was tribal. A prevailing us-vs-them mentality in both corners inspired its fair share of teen-movie subplots over the years and (for better or worse) perhaps an even greater number of Avril Lavigne songs. The idea of incorporating elements of the other’s wardrobe couldn’t have been further from either side’s mind. Penny loafers and pleated pants with hoodies and beanies? Perish the thought! But that’s exactly what’s been happening in menswear of late.

Rowling Blazers S22

Streetwear used to be an easy concept to pin down. It was a Supreme box logo, a Stüssy graphic tee, or a queue of teenagers snaking its way around your local sneaker shop’s block. During the mid 2010s, it became the focus of high-fashion’s attention. Suddenly, historic haute-couture houses were hiring streetwear creative directors, pro skaters were walking Paris Fashion Week runways, and hoodies, graphic tees, and sneakers all became the new luxury items.

In recent seasons, luxury brands have moved away from puffers and big logos. But streetwear isn’t dead, it’s simply evolving. As the hypebeast generation grows up and starts to look beyond sneakers and hoodies for its sartorial fix, a relatively new crop of brands have tapped into the current mood by fusing streetwear with elements of workwear, sportswear and, perhaps most notably of all, preppy and Ivy League style.

Yale students in Ivy League attire (1950)

This casually sophisticated menswear subgenre originated on the campuses of the USA’s prestigious Ivy League schools in the 1950s. It incorporated garments associated with traditionally upper-class sports such as golf, rugby, polo, sailing, hunting, and tennis. There was also casual tailoring and elements of British and American country attire. The original style shares its name with the group of universities that gave birth to it, but ‘preppy’ is the umbrella term more commonly used to describe the overall aesthetic today.

©Rowing Blazers / Founder Jack-Carlson

Jack Carlson is better positioned than most to speak on the subject. An Oxford- educated, US national-team rowing coxswain, born and raised in New England, he fits the preppy profile perfectly. But Carlson’s personal style has always been eclectic. Rather than sticking religiously to navy blazers and polo shirts, he incorporates elements of vintage, Ivy, and streetwear, with plenty of colour and character to boot. It’s a visual language that he’s carried over to his own brand, Rowing Blazers.

“I think ‘preppy’ can be a little bit of a dirty word,” Carlson says. “It’s got a lot of baggage. For some people, they hear it and they think of Vineyard Vines or, you know, a picture of a bunch of white people on a boat dressed like they’re going golfing. What we’re doing with Rowing Blazers is redefining the word ‘preppy’. We want to change what people think about when they hear it.”

Rowling Blazers FW22

Founded in 2017, Rowing Blazers serves up collegiate classics with a playful streetwear twist. Colourful pop-culture imagery dances across a range of preppy silhouettes, like rugby shirts, blazers, and polos. And limited collabs (such as the recent collection of co-branded Seiko 5 Sports watches) routinely sell out in minutes. “When I was first starting the brand back in 2017, I had friends of mine in the industry telling me not to do it. This was like the height of streetwear infiltrating mainstream fashion. So for them, doing something preppy was all the way at the opposite end of the spectrum.”

Aimé Leon Dore FW22

Aimé Leon Dore is another crossover brand enjoying unprecedented levels of success. The New York label has enjoyed a meteoric rise since its launch in 2014, blending streetwear, workwear, tailoring, and prep in its own unique way. Flicking through lookbook photographs you’ll see hoodies styled alongside loafers, beanies paired with double-breasted leather blazers, and sweatpants worn with Clarks Wallabees. There’s an unmistakable streetwear flavour, but it’s delivered in a way that feels elevated and mature.

Teddy Santis x New Balance ‘Made in USA’ Collection

The tastemaking label’s influence on men’s fashion hasn’t gone unnoticed by the industry’s heavy hitters. Earlier this year, French luxury giant LVMH took a minority stake in Aimé Leon Dore for an undisclosed sum. Around the same time, the brand’s founder, Teddy Santis, was recruited by New Balance as the creative director for the Bostonian footwear brand’s iconic ‘Made in USA’ line. His first collection sold out straight away.

Noah NYC FW22

Then there’s Noah NYC. Founded by former Supreme creative director Brendon Babenzien, it’s a brand with pedigree streetwear and skate-culture DNA that mixes in influences from punk, classic menswear, surf culture and a heavy dose of Ivy League style. Noah’s knack for reimagining preppy pieces in a culturally relevant way is so good, in fact, that struggling purveyor of high-street prep J.Crew this year hired Babenzien in an attempt to revamp the brand.

Some might argue that this latest wave of preppiness is nothing particularly different to what Ralph Lauren and its various sub-brands have been doing for decades. Polo Ralph Lauren was selling hoodies alongside blazers long before Teddy Santis was old enough to even spell the word ‘fashion’. So what’s different this time around?

Aimé Leon Dore FW22

“I think it comes down to trend and branding rather than product,” says Esquire UK style director, Charlie Teasdale. “For whatever reason, Aimé Leon Dore, for example, managed to hit upon a combination of sportswear, classic menswear, Americana and nineties- nostalgia that hit the zeitgeist perfectly.  And even though the brand operates in much the same space as Polo Ralph Lauren, it has created a distinct tone of voice that appeals in a completely different way.”

It certainly feels like we’re watching streetwear grow up and, by extension, smarten up. Renewed interest in tailoring and dwindling sneaker sales point to a fundamental change in direction. But is this indicative of menswear going back to a smarter way of dressing across the board?

©Rowing Blazers

“If anything it might be an inversion,” explains Teasdale. “Things that were once deemed smart – loafers, cardigans, chinos, even ties – are now considered much more casual. It’s good and bad news for purveyors of ‘formal’ menswear because it means their wares are popular, but not being worn in the traditional way, or with the requisite reverence. Suits are still cool, but I don’t think an expensive suit is necessarily a marker of taste anymore.”

Preppy style and tailoring are both notoriously elitist. In many ways, streetwear’s adaptation of these smarter elements could be seen as a sartorial democratisation of sorts. Well, provided you don’t look at the price tags, that is. Because let’s face it, charging £95 for a t-shirt is hardly tearing down the barriers of social class, is it?

Baggy dungarees, bucket hats, and tie-dye technicolour madness. Looking back at the ecstasy-fuelled acid house rave fashion choices of ravers in the late 1980s and early ‘90s, you might struggle to spot a link between this hedonistic youth movement and the clothes hanging in your own wardrobe. But there is one.

The acid-house scene changed a lot in a relatively short space of time. It was more than simply a subculture; it was an overarching movement that brought people from all walks of life together. It didn’t matter if you were a punk, a football hooligan, black, white, gay, straight or otherwise – everyone was there to do one thing: dance. And with serotonin levels through the roof thanks to those little magic pills, an energy of love and unity proliferated.

It was a transformative time that changed the cultural habits of a generation. Boundaries were broken down, new paradigms established, and club culture was rebuilt from the ground up. But the scene’s influence didn’t stop there. It’s less talked about, but look at the sartorial landscape pre and post acid house and you’ll notice a fundamental change in the way that people dress; a change that’s still being felt today.

In the mid-1980s, a new style of music began to creep into DJ sets at nightclubs and parties in the UK. Typified by energetic beats, squelching basslines, euphoric piano stabs, and sampled vocals, this new genre, dubbed acid house, became the soundtrack to the most seismic youth-culture revolution since the sixties: a second Summer of Love.

On its own, the music was exciting enough, but when combined with the arrival of ecstasy – a new drug that would keep people dancing, hugging and gurning into the small hours and beyond – it became something else entirely.

“Ecstasy intensified the experience and also meant the crowd were pretty responsive to dancing to music they had not heard before, which was very liberating,” says author and former acid-house DJ Dave Haslam in Luke Bainbridge’s 2013 book, The True Story of Acid House. “Although sometimes I think you could have played a recording of a Hoover and 2,000 people would have screamed with joy.

“When you DJ you’re mostly faced with a crowd waiting to be entertained and it’s your challenge to whip them up into a frenzy. But that early acid house era was different; you were faced with 2,000 baying people on the verge of such euphoria their heads were almost exploding. You almost felt like you had to hold them back a bit, like someone trying to guide wild horses.”

During the summer of 1988, acid house transformed from a fringe movement, involving small pockets of clued-up clubbers in London and Manchester, into an explosive nationwide cultural phenomenon that saw tens-of-thousands of loved-up ravers packing out clubs, abandoned warehouses, basements, and fields.

The partygoers came from far and wide, which meant there were lots of different fashions on display, particularly in the early days. At the Haçienda, the iconic Manchester venue that helped bring acid house to the masses via its ‘Nude’ club night, people were still rocking up in suits with shoulder pads as late as early 1988. But as the scene grew, a more relaxed way of dressing took over.

Image credit: Peter J Walsh

“Clothes became a way to nonverbally communicate to like-minded people once you were outside of a club or a rave,” explains Manchester-based DJ, brand consultant and content creator Neil Summers. “In the early days, being a raver was like being part of a secret society, so glimpsing a small smiley badge or a Berghaus fleece would often let you know you were talking to a fellow devotee.”

From the summer of 1988 onwards, relaxed fits, European labels and bright colours spread throughout the crowds like wildfire. Loose and comfortable, these were clothes to be danced in, and were in stark contrast to the suits and shirts people were wearing to nightclubs just a year earlier. “In 1988 I was wearing baggy white tees, coach jackets, chambray shirts, vintage Levi’s 501s or dungarees and Converse Chucks,” says Summers.

“Then in 1989, denim went white (or flared) and tops got looser. European/ French labels became a thing too, with the likes of Chipie, Lacoste, Naf Naf, Palladium, and Chevignon all being very popular. After that, things went a little more American sportswear, with Russel Athletic and Champion sweatshirts. Trainers also became a much bigger focus. Adidas Torsions, Superstars, and Nike Cortez were some of the most popular models.”

Obviously, the clothes were a part of it, but perhaps to a much lesser degree than in some other youth movements. The inclusive nature of ecstasy meant that in addition to the barriers of race, class, sexual orientation and gender coming down, so too did sartorial barriers.

“People would be more inclined to tell you that they liked what you wore,” said Summers. “But in the grand scheme of having the best night of your life in a room full of equally loved-up people, what you were wearing really wasn’t that important.”

The clothes may not have seemed overly important at the time, but looking back it’s clear to see the impact this era had on the way people dress. Acid house and ecstasy brought a carefree attitude to the culture that bled into fashion for generations to come. Over the past few decades, we’ve seen dress codes erode beyond recognition compared to what they were 30 years ago, and acid house was one of the catalysts that set this process in motion.

Ultimately, the scene fell apart. Media hysteria, new government legislation prohibiting mass gatherings, and widespread police crackdowns all played a part. Acid house had become too big for its own good, and people eventually moved on. But even after the dust had settled, the unofficial uniform remained. Clothing designed to be worn for sport and leisure was now the norm. Trainers replaced shoes and heels, and baggy sweats replaced shirts and blouses.

“Before rave music there was still a formality to fashion that no longer exists now,” said Summers. “People get married wearing trainers, go to work in tracksuits, and buy clothes designed or endorsed by their favourite DJs and musicians.”

It’s something to think about the next time you breeze past a nightclub bouncer clad in a T-shirt and trainers, or when you rock up at the office in a hoodie. Had it not been for acid house, there’s every chance you’d be getting turned away at the door.