I’ll be the first to admit it—I am that person. The person who has fourteen different jackets but still looks like a drowned rat whenever it rains. I research and write about sustainable fashion for a living, so you’d think I’d have this whole rainy weather thing down pat.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t. Rain in Seattle is no joke. If you thought Denver weather was bipolar, you should see Seattle.
Seattle weather is just relentless. It’s perpetually threatening to rain.
Partly cloudy in Seattle means rain, rain, rain.
Overwhelmed by rainy climate change? Check out my free Rainy Day Laundry Care Starter Guide to start taking better care of your clothes: Back in Denver, we had four seasons—snow, glorious sun, and the occasional tornado. In Seattle it’s pretty much raining or deciding to rain.
Most days it’s both. You learn real quick that if it’s cloudy in Seattle, you need to wear layers upon layers of water-resistant fabrics that still somehow look chic. It wasn’t until I had a-break-down at a sustainable fashion event last spring that I realized I needed to rethink my wardrobe.
I was wearing a cute vintage silk blouse I found at Crossroads, my go-to thrift store for funky vintage pieces that I love in Denver. I paired it with my favorite pair of high-waisted Everlane trousers, and threw on my favorite pair of leather boots from a small brand that actually pays living wages to their employees. They’re expensive, but well-made and produced ethically.
I checked the weather app before I left my apartment: partly cloudy. Partly cloudy in Seattle = lying. Look, Seattle, I get it.
You’d never actually call it raining on your weather app. We get it, there are some gaps in those clouds, we can see them! But trick us with your cute little “sun icons that are half-clouded over?” Foolish mortal humans that we are, we believed you.
And I learned my lesson the hard way when I got dumped on at a fashion conference ten blocks from my apartment. First of all, silk and rain are never friends. My vintage blouse developed weird blotchy watermarks all over, making me look like I’d cried inconsolably into my top.
And my cute leather boots? Oh, boy. Nothing screams “tourist” like expensive leather boots sloshing around in puddles.
I was a sopping, soggy mess by the time I sat down for the opening remarks. And as much as I wanted to side-eye the impeccably dressed entrepreneurs traipsing around sunny downtown Seattle, I couldn’t. It was time to accept the inevitable.
If I was going to survive Seattle’s misguided impersonation of climate change, I was going to have to rethink my wardrobe. Suddenly inspired to overhaul my wardrobe to actually be appropriate for Seattle weather, I dove headfirst into the Wonderful World of Weather-Approved Apparel. I had a few ground rules: -Waterproof doesn’t mean what you think it means.
If it’s not raining on your weather app, it’ll rain. “Water resistant” is your new best friend. -NOT all sustainable brands are created equal. Yes, Patagonia has some of the best environmental practices of any major clothing brand, and yes, their rain jackets will serve you well here in Seattle. But Patagonida also makes you look like you might be communing with nature at any moment.
I needed cute options that were discreet enough to wear to the office, but could handle Seattle’s torrential “rain.” Don’t worry, I found them. It took awhile, and trying on stupid-looking rain coats that make you feel like a goofy teenager trying too hard to be hip, but I found them. I discovered Kotn and their line of coated cotton jackets.
Kotn is a B-Corp (read: They prioritize their impact on people and planet throughout their business), and make some really adorable trench coats that repel water. Plus, they’re cut like a real coat, not like something you borrowed from your dad’s camping supply stash. Sure, it was pricey, but if there’s anything I’ve learned about sustainable fashion, it’s that you often pay more upfront for quality pieces that will last you longer rather than buying cheap versions of things you’ll inevitably replace five times.
Fast forward two winters later and that coat is still kicking butt. Cotton canvas ages so nicely – the fabric gets softer and looks more chic over time, rather than looking worn out and thin like a lot of synthetic materials do. Ok, but here’s the thing about rain coats.
Nobody talks about the hood problem. Most rain coats either have too small of a hood to cover your hair, or a hilariously huge hood that impairs your vision. Or both.
I’ve accepted that Seattle weather means carrying an umbrella 75% of the year. And hey, I used to pride myself on never using umbrellas. Clearly, I was full of trash vibes.
Spoiler alert: I’m not that tough. Not when “that” includes being rained on for nearly eight months out of the year. After nearly despairing on a windy street corner because my boots kept filling up with water like little boats, I finally found my Holy Grail of waterproof footwear.
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Tretorn makes these adorable boots that look like normal ankle boots from at least five feet away. My pair is a faded blue color and made from recycled materials! Tretorn is also a Worker Wealth Certified Company, meaning they pay their employees a living wage and treat them well.
Best of all, they keep my feet nice and dry without sabotaging my entire outfit. I’ve worn them pretty much every day since I bought them, and they’ve never let me down. Speaking of materials, that’s another thing I learned on my rain-y quest.
Certain fabrics perform better in high humidity than others. Cotton absorbs water like nobody’s business, which is why my beloved silk blouse got those terrible watermarks. Wool, on the other hand, is basically magical.
It regulates your body temperature, doesn’t smell like naughty gym clothes like synthetics do, and is thick enough that it actually looks “put together” even when slightly damp. Not to mention, you can find wool pieces at almost any thrift store. I stockpiled on merino layers from thrifted clothes I already had as well as sustainable brands I discovered during my year of too-many-rain-coats, like Kotn and Pact.
There’s a slight learning curve, though, when you’re buying high-quality wool. Ethical clothing tends to run on the pricey side. Add wool to that and—well, let’s just say I spent a lot of time scrolling through resale apps.
My favorite places to find wool pieces are Buffalo Exchange and Crossroads. I found this Eileen Fisher merino dress for $30 at Crossroads that would’ve been $200 retail. It’s now my favorite go-to for rainy days when I need to look professional but the weather is lacking direction.
Merino wool is also dreamy for layering. Seattle weather can vacillate wildly between indoor heat caves and the soaking rain outdoors. I’ve learned to build outfits around pieces I can take on and off when I enter or exit a building.
Think cardigans that can come off easily when I’m indoors, scarves that double as both sweater coverings and cozy coat layering, etc. The last thing I had to wrap my head around was my bag situation. There’s no friends when it comes to leather bags and Seattle rain.
I learned that the hard way when my favorite vintage Coach bag I got on super sale at Macy’s developed unfixable water stains no amount of Leather Honey could cure. I now curate my bags based on the weather. Hear me out before you judge – yes, it sounds excessive.
But would you rather be constantly preventively treating your favorite leather bags or watch them get ruined by what your trustworthy weather app lies and calls “mist?” Canvas bags are lifesavers. I’ve had this bag from Baggu for awhile now. They’re a sustainable company out of California that makes minimalist bags from all recycled materials.
It’s been through two years of Seattle’s nonsense and looks just as good as day I bought it. Pro-tip: make sure it’s big enough to fit all the layers you’ll inevitably remove once you’re indoors. Let’s talk mindset for a hot second.
One of the biggest lessons I had to learn during my rain-induced breakdown was changing my mental approach to Seattle weather. Instead of fighting it and pretending I could wear my favorite winter dresses whenever I felt like it, I had to accept that some days, being chic isn’t possible. And that’s ok!
It’s more about arriving somewhere not completely drenched rather than looking cute while you get there. Also, water-resistant does not equal un-stylish. Trust me, I spent weeks convincing myself that because I wasn’t wearing Patagonia, I wasn’t allowed to wear anything that wouldn’t get someone ordained in the outdoors.
Rain gear doesn’t have to look like you got it at REI – you just have to find the right brands that balance ethics and functionality. One of my favorite things to wear on rainy days now is literally my uniform. That Kotn raincoat, dark wash jeans that don’t show water spots, my beloved Tretorn boots, and a lightweight merino sweater that can handle humidity without getting stanky and sticking to your skin.
I look decent walking to work through drizzly Capitol Hill mist, and I actually arrive at work looking how I intended to rather than a sweaty mess. I will say, I check the weather multiple times a day now. I know, I’m GrannyAlerting myself.
But seriously, it’s the difference between walking to work feeling prepared and waking up to your snooze alarm GET POURING OUTSIDE. I also had to accept that, while I could find some really functional rain gear from ethical brands, I would need to rely on some bigger brands when it came to waterproof pieces.
The most effective rain jackets and pants come from companies who fall short on some of their ethical standards.
There’s only so much you can do in the so-called pursuit of ethical consumption. What I can do, though, is purchase less cheap gear that will fall apart after one rainy season. Buy fewer, better quality items that will last me longer rather than buying three cheap rain jackets from Target.
The kicker is that you also have to maintain weather appropriate clothing. Treat your leather boots before the rainy season hits. Re-proof your jackets every year.
Make sure you store your clothes so they don’t mildew if you live in a particularly gloomy area. It takes some extra work, sure, but that’s what you sign up for when you commit to a sustainable lifestyle. I’m far from an expert.
I, in fact, wore suede boots during a surprise downpour last week and immediately regretted my life choices. But for the most part, I now have a sustainable wardrobe that actually works with Seattle weather, rather than pretending that it’s blissfully sunny 75 degrees year round.
