I have a theory that the polo shirt is the hardest item of clothing to get right. It’s supposed to be the middle ground between a T-shirt and a button-down, but usually, it just makes you look like a middle-manager at a corporate away day or a dad who’s lost his way in a John Lewis. Most of them are terrible. They shrink. The collars curl up like wilted lettuce after three washes. And don’t even get me started on the logos.
I learned this the hard way back in 2018. I was heading to a summer wedding in Brighton—one of those ‘casual but smart’ affairs where nobody knows what to wear. I bought a cheap, navy pique polo from a high-street giant (let’s call them H&M, because it was H&M). By the time I’d walked from the station to the seafront, the humidity had turned the fabric into a heavy, damp sponge. I looked like I’d just crawled out of the English Channel. By the second gin and tonic, the collar had completely collapsed. I spent the rest of the day looking like a dishevelled geography teacher. It was humiliating. I threw it in the bin the next morning.
The logo problem and why I’m probably being unfair
I know people will disagree with me here, but I flat-out refuse to wear anything with a horse, a crocodile, or a laurel wreath on the chest. I hate them. I think they make you look like a striver. There’s something deeply uncool about paying £100 to be a walking billboard for a multi-billion dollar brand. It’s a status symbol for people who don’t actually have status. My wife says I’m being a snob about this, and maybe she’s right, but I just can’t do it. If I’m spending my hard-earned money, I want the quality to be in the stitch, not the embroidery.
Actually, let me rephrase that—it’s not just the branding. It’s the fit. The big ‘heritage’ brands have become so mass-market that their ‘medium’ is now designed to fit a small van. If you aren’t built like a rugby player, you end up with these weird wings of fabric under your arms. It’s a mess.
The actual data: I measured the curl
I’m a bit obsessive. Over the last three years, I’ve bought and tested 14 different brands available in the UK. I even started tracking ‘Collar Decay’—which is just me measuring how many millimetres the tips of the collar lift after a 30-degree wash. What I found was pretty depressing. Most high-street options (Zara, M&S, Uniqlo) showed a ‘curl’ of at least 1.8cm after just five washes. That’s the difference between looking sharp and looking like you slept in a hedge.
Anyway, I digress. I was talking about the Brighton wedding. The point is, after that disaster, I went on a quest to find the stuff that actually holds up. Here is the short list of what actually works in the UK climate:
- Sunspel Riviera: This is the James Bond one. It’s made of ‘Q70’ mesh. It’s incredibly light. I’ve owned two for four years and they still look new. It’s expensive, but it’s the gold standard.
- Community Clothing: This is my ‘secret’ recommendation. They make them in UK factories using high-quality pique. No logos. No nonsense. About £40.
- Percival: If you want something that isn’t just a plain solid colour. Their knitted polos are great, though they are a nightmare to dry.
The Sunspel Riviera is the only shirt I’ve ever owned that actually makes me feel more attractive than I actually am.
The part about John Smedley
I used to think John Smedley was the peak of British knitwear. I really did. I bought their Sea Island cotton polo because everyone said it was the best. I was completely wrong. It’s too thin. It’s so delicate that if you look at it wrong, it develops a hole. I wore mine to a Sunday roast once and a drop of gravy hit it; after a gentle hand wash, the fabric looked like it had aged ten years. It’s too much stress for a shirt. I’m a general worker, not a museum curator. I need clothes I can actually live in. Total waste of money.
I might be wrong about the ‘Sea Island’ hype, but I think it’s a marketing gimmick for people who like saying the words ‘Sea Island.’ Give me a sturdy organic cotton pique any day. It feels like real clothing.
How to not look like a berk
The trick is the buttons. Never button it all the way to the top unless you’re trying to be a 1960s Mod (and you’re probably not). But also, don’t leave it wide open like you’re on a Mediterranean cruise. Two buttons, one undone. That’s it. That’s the whole trick.
Also, pique cotton was actually invented specifically to hide sweat stains from Victorian cricketers. I read that somewhere. Whether it’s true or not, it works. If you’re a guy who runs hot, avoid the ‘smooth’ jersey polos. They show everything. Stick to the texture.
I still haven’t found the ‘perfect’ polo under £30. Maybe it doesn’t exist. Maybe the cost of decent cotton and a collar that doesn’t die is just higher than we want it to be. I’m currently looking at some smaller brands on Instagram, but I’m worried they’re just dropshipping garbage. Does anyone actually make a good one for the price of a couple of pizzas? I genuinely don’t know.
Buy the Sunspel if you can afford it. If not, Community Clothing is the only honest choice left.