If the British had won the War of Independence in 1776, chances are you’d be wearing tweed instead of camo or blaze on your wingshooting adventures.
Upland hunters in particular tend to romanticize traditional estate tweed through that gauzy sentimentality of a Doris Day close-up. Armed with our venerable double gun on a crisp autumn afternoon while adorned in tweed breeks, jacket or waistcoat and flat cap, as Fido scours the landscape, we hike though the heather ever vigilant for a flush.