Most yachting jackets are absolute garbage. There, I said it. You spend seven hundred dollars on something that promises to keep you dry in a hurricane, but three hours into a drizzly Tuesday afternoon in the Solent, you’re damp, shivering, and wondering why you didn’t just stay in the pub. Most of these ‘best yachting jackets’ lists are written by people who have never actually had a wave hit them in the face at 3:00 AM. I have. It’s not graceful. It’s cold, it smells like salt, and it exposes every single flaw in your gear’s construction.
I’ve owned six different high-end jackets over the last decade. I’ve tracked the performance of each one like a nerd. For example, my old Gill OS2 jacket lost exactly 38% of its water-beading capability after I washed it for the 12th time (I used the ‘proper’ tech wash, too). I know this because I actually timed how long it took for water to soak into the sleeve during a downpour in Lymington back in October 2021. It took four minutes. Four minutes for a $400 jacket to become a heavy, wet sponge. Total failure.
The Gore-Tex lie and why I changed my mind
I used to be a total Gore-Tex snob. I thought if it didn’t have that little gold diamond tag, it was basically a plastic bag. I was completely wrong. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently: the brand of the membrane matters way less than how the neck is designed. You can have the most breathable fabric in the world, but if the collar doesn’t seal against your chin properly, water is going to run down your chest anyway.
I’ve come to realize that Gore-Tex Pro is mostly a status symbol for people who want to look like they’re about to start the Vendée Globe while they’re actually just motoring to a lunch spot. It’s loud. It’s crunchy. It makes you sound like a bag of potato chips every time you move your arms. I’ve started wearing a Zhik Isotak lately, and honestly? The proprietary fabric feels just as good, if not better. It’s less stiff. I know people will disagree with me here—the Gore-Tex cult is real—but I’m over it.
Anyway, speaking of things that annoy me on boats, can we talk about Velcro for a second? Why is it on every single glove? I was trying to adjust my mainsheet last summer and the Velcro on my cuff got snagged on the Velcro of my glove, and I ended up looking like I was trying to handcuff myself while a gust was rounding us up. It was humiliating. But I digress. The point is, features matter more than brand names.
The only jackets I’d actually spend my own money on
If you’re looking for a list of twenty options, go read a magazine. I only care about three. These are the ones that haven’t made me want to scream in the middle of the ocean.
- Musto MPX Offshore: This is the boring choice. It’s the Toyota Camry of sailing jackets. It works, it lasts forever, and it’s expensive. The hood system is the best in the business, period. It’s the only one that doesn’t make me feel like I’m wearing a bucket on my head.
- Zhik Isotak 2: This is for people who actually move around the boat. It’s cut tighter. It doesn’t have a bunch of extra fabric flapping around. I wore this during a 24-hour offshore race and it was the first time I didn’t feel like I was wearing a suit of armor that was three sizes too big.
- Decathlon Tribord 900: I’m going to get heat for this. This jacket is like $150. I bought it as a backup and ended up wearing it for an entire season of coastal cruising. It’s surprisingly good. It’s not an ‘offshore’ jacket, despite what they say, but for day sailing? Don’t be a brand snob.
The best jacket is the one you can actually afford to replace when you inevitably snag it on a split pin and rip a hole in the sleeve.
My irrational hatred of Helly Hansen
I refuse to recommend Helly Hansen. I know, I know—they’ve been around forever and half the professionals wear them. I don’t care. I hate their logo. It looks like a healthcare provider or a first-aid kit. Every time I see someone in a full HH kit, I instinctively want to ask them for an aspirin. It’s an unfair reason to dislike a brand, but this is my blog and I’m allowed to be petty. Their zippers also always seem to catch on the storm flap for me. I’ve owned one HH jacket in my life, and I gave it away to a cousin I don’t particularly like after three months. Never again.
Also, the yellow they use is the wrong shade of yellow. It’s too neon. It makes you look like a human highlighter. If I’m going overboard, I want to be found, sure, but I don’t want to look ridiculous while I’m waiting for the RIB to pick me up.
One thing I might be wrong about—and feel free to tell me I’m an idiot in the comments—is the whole ‘latex neck seal’ thing on smocks. I’ve tried them. I feel like I’m being slowly strangled by a very weak giant. I know they keep 100% of the water out, but I’d rather be 5% wet and able to breathe. Maybe I just have a thick neck. Who knows.
What to actually look for (The short version)
Forget the ‘breathability ratings’ and the ‘hydrostatic head’ numbers. They’re mostly made up in labs that don’t involve salt spray. Look for the fleece lining in the pockets. If it’s thin, your hands will stay cold. Look for the height of the collar. It should come up past your ears. And for the love of god, check the drainage holes in the bottom of the pockets. I once had a jacket that didn’t have them, and I ended up carrying about two liters of seawater in my pockets for four hours. It was like wearing two very heavy, very cold weights on my hips.
Seriously, check the pockets. It’s the small stuff that kills you.
I don’t know if we’re all just suckers for the marketing. Maybe we all just want to look like we’re tougher than we are. Last week, I saw a guy at the marina wearing a $1,200 Henri Lloyd offshore suit to wash his deck. In the sun. With a hose. I think about that guy a lot. Are we buying gear for the life we have, or the life we want people to think we have? I’m still trying to figure that out. Anyway, buy the Musto if you have the cash, or the Decathlon one if you don’t. Just stay away from the neon yellow.
