Pakamac

I would be amazed if Pakamac weren’t producing plastic and nylon over skirts and over trousers, if the prevalence of newspaper adverts in the 1950s, for garments of that nature, was anything to go by. I know for a fact that Pakamac advertised items from Pakamac Special Products LTD, in the 1960s. The items included plastic air beds, paddling pools and junior pools. Also transistor radios and surprisingly, the Pakamatic refrigerator.

Also, adverts from 1969 show that Pakamac were producing and I quote “the rugged all purpose Weathermaster heavy duty nylon suit and a range of safety and industrial clothing suitable for all outdoor workers”.

In the 1990s, I definitely saw nylon over skirts for sale, from Rainstar. Particularly noticeable because they were sold in the distinctive Rainstar packaging, so like Pakamac packaging. The ones I saw were aimed at lady bowlers and golfers.

I don’t remember seeing women clad, like you saw Mr McMac, in over trousers or skirts. However, a heavy coat with a nylon mac over it, was very popular amongst older women in the 1970s/80s.

I always found it odd that Pakamac and other raincoat manufacturers didn’t offer matching rain trousers or even rain skirts with their raincoats. As we’ve discussed at length, Pakamacs did have one failing- not providing adequate below the knee protection on windy days unless they had that rare extra fastening.
I’m sure most ladies would have been glad of the extra protection. Covering up that most worrying of gaps between the lowest coat button and the top of their winter boots.
I can only remember two occasions where I witnessed this very practical combination. Fortunately for me one involved a neighbour called Hazel who lived two doors away. Hazel always took great care in making sure that she was properly attired for whatever the weather would throw at her.
On cold windy days she was always well wrapped up in a variety of voluminous winter coats. On really bitterly cold days she wore a very heavy tweed coat with a deep fur collar. The collar had two button fixings allowing for it to be turned up and completely closed, protecting the nose, mouth and ears from the cold. She usually paired this with a furry Cossack style hat secured with a large head scarf.
On one particularly awful day she appeared at her gate with this ensemble covered by a yellow Pakamac, rainbonnet and matching nylon trousers. Both the Pakamac and tweed coat fell to mid calf leaving only the hint of a dark border below the nylon hem. This surprised me because previously I had only ever seen her wearing a skirt. To be fair this particular day was not one you’d want to be out in unless absolutely necessary. The sea air was laden with wind driven sleet and any exposed skin would quickly become raw and chapped. Once she was out in the street, Hazel’s Pakamac skirt was blown back on itself revealing the heavy tweed coat beneath which in turn would flap open to reveal the yellow over trousers. Only her eyes were visible between the hat brim and upturned collar. The over trousers allowed her to ignore the flapping coat skirts. Instead she concentrated on huddling into her coats, head down and balled hands thrust deep into her Pakamac pockets. Occasionally she would raise her head, one hand shielding her eyes to check the pavement ahead. The wind would torment her rainbonnet to the point where she would have to grab it and pull it forward again.
Her nylon shell quickly became coated with watery snow as she was pelted by the sleet. Despite this she managed to make steady progress to Windy Corner. The wind here was particularly nasty making the back of her Pakamac swell up and skirt flap around uselessly. You could see her rainbonnet being blown around mercilessly.
The Pakamac was receiving an absolute lashing and was quickly becoming so wet that the yellow was becoming translucent. Despite this Hazel’s ensemble seemed to be just about coping with the weather’s onslaught. She only had to turn her back once to retie her sorely tested bonnet.
Then she disappeared out of sight by moving round into the beginning of the High Street.
This particular sighting has stayed with me for over 40years despite the fact that Hazel did wear her over trousers on several more occasions but never in such dramatic weather.
Has anyone else come across similarly attired ladies?

I wish you all a Merry Christmas ,thank you all for your comments I enjoy reading them all hopefully they will keep coming.

Interesting clip that, Mr McMac, a lovely example of a billowing mac. It almost looked like a nylon mac in the wind but yes, it seemed like some sort of matt plastic or PVC. I love seeing films around that era from Eastern Europe or the Soviet Union. There can be some lovely mac scenes.

Some lovely reminiscing Brian. I would estimate that my school years were about 5 years later than yours and there were only a few of us wore plastic macs. By the end of my time there, I think I was the only one wearing them. I don’t have the cloakroom memories because I stored mine in my school bag during lessons. I have no doubt that my mac would have been vandalised if I left it in the cloakroom.

I’m looking forward to your input on Pakamac packaging. I have quite a number of them.

One thing that impressed me about boy's plastic Pakamacs, in the school cloakroom, was the ease with which they dried. By about 10 00am, the squelchy rain had condensed into small droplets, and by 4 10pm, our leaving time, the macs had almost completely dried. The boys could then roll them up, unless, of course, the weather was still inclement. Contrast this to the gaberdine or proofed cotton macs, which were still very damp. Next up, Pakamac packaging.

Brian I look forward to your input with much anticipation. I’ve been very busy recently and so have not been able to contribute anything here unfortunately. I have however come across this little oddity:-
https://youtu.be/RERIaVQPJIM
The interesting part is at 4.45. The woman appears to have a heavy pvc raincoat on. Can anyone shed any light on it? Hopefully I’ll be able to contribute more on here soon.

So many variations on the Pakamac theme, beautifully and thrillingly expounded by Susan and Mr McMac. But, for me, the basic theme will always be, "Boy's plastic Pakamacs, 1955-1965", and, over my next few comments, I plan to highlight some of their basic characteristics. Watch this space.

That's an impressive amount of work you've done on the adverts. I'll have to check out the originals as well now I've access to the BNA.
I think only lollipop superlady Fiona and her ultimate Pakamac would've had any chance of taking on Storm Arwen . I can only imagine what it would've been like to be on Windy Corner that night. Certainly umbrellas would have been destroyed en mass and Pakamacs with below the knee fastenings would have been mandatory. Even then coat skirts will have been ripped open regardless. Rainbonnets would have been easy prey for the hurricane force winds. In short many damsels in distress-absolutely deliciously stimulating.

These are reconstructions of old adverts from my newspaper research
https://plasticmacs.blogspot.com

Lots of old Pakamac ones

I think even a Pakamac might have struggled, McMac in the wet 100+ mph winds that we had.

I took the plunge and bought a month’s subscription and I’ll have to say it’s not been wasted. I’ve unearthed several good images of windblown ladies already. Last night’s storm made me wish I could travel back 50 or 60 years to the golden age of Pakamacs. There would surely have been many opportunities to see suitably clad ladies battling the elements and having their umbrellas mangled. Was anyone lucky enough to catch sight of any windblown ladies?

The British newspaper archive is a wonderful collection of resource material but it is subject to the wear and tear on the original material. Great for the written word.

Susan would you recommend the British Newspaper Archive for images of Pakamac clad ladies in stormy weather? I’ve avoided subscribing since I wasn’t sure if it would be worth it. The equivalent US version-Newspapers.com is a trove of such images and gives you a 7 day trial period per credit card.

I’m curious about that six button style of ladies nylon Pakamac, that you highlighted McMac. Particularly which decade they were sold? I suspect it was the 1990s because I can’t remember them from the 1970s, when the Suzanne style with the chunky buttons seemed to dominate. Then the 1980s when the hooded style nylon Pakamac with poppers and a gathered yoke were prevalent. This six button Pakamac is not all that rare, there have been quite a few on eBay during the pandemic. New ones are supposed to have a carry case and they should have a belt. They have belt loops. I have a navy blue one.

I would agree McMac, about those wonderful sources of archive images. I produced my reconstructions of newspaper advertisements because I have a subscription to The British Newspaper Archive that has a vast amount of references and information. Far more than I could manage with a 7 day window to peruse.

I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to supply much you hadn’t seen before McMac. My sources would be photos and videos already available on Flickr and YouTube.

This is 20+ years worth of being on the internet. I couldn’t keep this level of input up for very long. I always try and “think outside the box” when it comes to rainwear sources . I’ve found places like a country’s national archive is often a rich seam to mine. Another good source is newspaper archives. Many give you a free 7 day trial.
Searching under phrases such as “pedestrians bucking/battling/ struggling against the wind and….” brings back a lot of interesting results.
Youtube can also bring up some surprises if you search under different languages using one of the many online translation tools.
One thing I do find frustrating is that often the best footage in a collection is the one that is still offline awaiting digitisation. It just means that your mind runs riot imagining what gems might be just out of reach.

Mr McMac, how do you find the time for all this? You put me to shame!

Sorry missed your earlier post Susan. I’m always on the lookout for windy Pakamac images and videos. Can you remember any specific links that you’ve come across?

I've just spotted this beauty on Ebay-https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/203700962570?hash=item2f6d86050a:g:XdQAAOSw6-phk-pD -a six button ladies Pakamac. A rare beast if previous comments are anything to go by. It should provide plenty of wind and rain protection to the lucky owner.

You are plainly not alone in your attraction, McMac, I have seen plenty of others posting photos and videos of macs on windy days, particularly nylon macs. There is something about a nylon mac that is quite unique when the wind catches it and the mac billows up, straining at the buttons in a distinctive way. Additionally, there is something extremely alluring when the mac is being worn over a traditional winter coat. I love this time of year when I can go out like that. A tribute to all the lovely mature ladies who dressed like that, in my younger days. I’m never without a nylon Pakamac when I go out, nowadays. Even when I’m wearing one, I still have a spare with me.

Yet another particularly lovely clip there from Huntley Archives, of gorgeous nylon macs. Thank you McMac for sharing along with your story.

Thanks for the comments Brian. I've always had a thing about the sight of windblown pedestrians especially if they are clad in nylon raincoats. I'm not sure where this started from. I often find that I have a downloaded image of a woman in a Pakamac. Before you know it I've altered it with Photoshop to a woman in very windy, wet, winter weather. Often with the addition of a wrecked umbrella. Does anyone else do this or am I just odd?
Anyway here's the final part of my Pakamac story:-

Part 6-The Ultimate Pakamac
Another stormy winter’s day and another visit from Fiona. She was always grateful for the welcoming warmth of our house and tea. Up to this point I hadn’t had the opportunity to have a closer look at Fiona’s new wonder coat, so I lingered in the hallway to have a closer look at the new down coat and accompanying Pakamac. The coat was very red and very long and I reckoned it would fall to just below Fiona’s mid-calf. The hood was large and deep and was very well padded as was the rest of the coat. The bottom fastening was only 3 inches from the hem making it almost completely windproof.
The Pakamac was a matching red and had button fastenings. Fiona must have started wearing this one after the storm had destroyed it’s predecessor. It wasn’t quite as long as the down coat which may have contributed to the previous one’s demise. Fiona had said that the weather at Windy Corner was especially adept at finding any chinks in your weather armour.
Fiona proceeded to relive her epic storm saga. For the first time the whole visit was taken up with the latest instalment of Fiona’s ongoing weather project. I found it hard to control the almost overwhelming urges this tale of overwhelmed rainwear and defeated winter coats brought on. I was also annoyed that I’d missed witnessing it since by that time I was away from my viewpoint.
In light of her recent stormy experiences, Fiona had decided that further upgrades to her foul weather protection were needed and in fact she hoped to do them this coming weekend. This she hoped would finally provide the protective shell capable of fending off the absolute worst the weather could throw at her.
I was to say the least more than excited at this news but was worried that it wouldn’t include one of her gorgeous Pakamacs. So, I said “You’ll be giving up on your current rainwear then”.
“Absolutely not, Pakamac’s are the Rolls Royce of the nylon rainwear world and although mine failed during the storm no other make would have lasted even half as long.” She then added somewhat cryptically “I’m hoping to take my raincoat to the next level and make it genuinely storm proof.”
I could hardly wait.
Time always seems to drag when you’re full of anticipation. I was also worried that the following Monday would be one of these mild and sunny winter days and Fiona would revert to an earlier version of her weather protection. I needn’t have worried as the day turned out to be as awful as any so far in what was turning out to be an exceptionally stormy winter.
I luckily had a free period last thing so was able to get home before my lollipop superwoman took up her station.
The weather had worsened throughout the day and I was wet and cold after the journey home. The house was empty when I got back. Mum must have headed out into the storm which didn’t surprise me since she now wore similar weather armour to Fiona. She had ordered a blue down coat soon after inspecting Fiona’s, but it didn’t arrive until the previous Saturday. In the meantime, she bought a matching blue hooded Pakamac in readiness for the new coat. Both had been treated to her Velcro upgrade.
Mum wore both out for a “test drive” accompanied by my father. Yesterday’s weather was predominantly icy winds mixed with squally showers, ideal for Mum’s outing. I watched them head out and Mum seemed to be very snuggly, cuddling into Dad much more than normal. They struggled round Windy Corner with both their Pakamacs under constant assault. Mum’s coat skirts just rippled and swelled in the wind proving that her Velcro upgrade was making a difference. Dad’s Pakamac in contrast was flapping around and the upper portion billowed and pulsated. At one point Mum’s hoods were partially blown back off her head so Dad chivalrous as always shielded her while she pulled them up and tied them securely. She then stood up on her tip toes and gave him a long, lingering kiss. I began to wonder if my affinity for Pakamacs might be hereditary.
I waited patiently, all the while the wind was picking up and the rain began to come down in sheets, instantly soaking any luckless soul caught without adequate protection. Then she appeared but elation slowly turned to disappointment as I struggled to detect any difference in her appearance. Then without warning the rain became absolutely torrential and the wind picked up dramatically as the latest squall blasted in, heading straight toward two women who were attempting to cross the road to Windy Corner. They had already been struggling to control their umbrellas, raincoats billowing and flapping and then the barrage of wind and rain struck. Despite the din I could hear their anguished cries as they desperately tried squatting down behind their umbrellas only to have both nylon canopies completely stripped away and the frames left unrecognisably mangled as the squall’s overwhelming deluge of wind and rain passed over. One woman tried to run toward Fiona but was instead blown back across the road, losing her rainhat to the wind while the other tried to tuck into a ball but was simply bowled over and sent sliding across the junction into the opposite handrail. Her rain bonnet was blown right off her head and left flapping around her neck.
Fiona spotted the oncoming danger of just in time. She quickly clung to the handrail and turned her back adopting a wide stance half squat against the almost hurricane force wind. Despite this the wind was so powerful that she nearly ended up being blown face down on the pavement. The rain came down like a solid wall of water totally obscuring her vision for a few seconds.
It was then that I started to notice a difference. There were no acres of flapping nylon only the tabard flapped like a wind filled sail, in contrast both coats seemed to ripple and flow as one. The front of her coat skirts appeared to follow the angle of her legs closely preventing any discernible billowing. Then as she turned back around, I caught sight of her new fur hood trim.
Fiona slowly edged across the road to help the nearest woman. Her field of vision was limited to one small circular opening bordered by the fur trim. While this totally protected her face and kept her snugly warm it did however mean that she had to tread very carefully when moving around. A trade off she was happy to make to avoid going back to wearing a rain bonnet which always resulted in a frozen face and sore ears. She was feeling incredibly insulated from the elements with every weak spot in her weather armour now firmly sealed off. Looking down to check her footing she caught sight of the Pakamac skirt rippling and flowing with the fastenings, moving as one over the down coat underskirt. This Pakamac was slightly longer than the down coat so gave it full protection.
Fiona reached the first woman and helped her stand up and then lead her back to Windy Corner. All the time the weather took great pains to impede them every step of the way.
The contrast between the two women could not have been starker. On the one hand there was a bedraggled woman who shrank back every time the wind hit her. The see-through plastic raincoat she wore was only closed by a midriff tie belt. The storm had quickly overwhelmed the coat both above and below the waste. The plastic skirt was blowing and flapping vertically up her left-hand side and forcing open the area above the belt, exposing her long wool coat almost entirely. It in turn was blowing up and behind revealing her very wet looking skirt and legs. The attached hood she had deemed unnecessary flapping around her neck in company with the failed rainbonnet.
On the other hand, there was Fiona sheathed from head to toe in crimson. Her protective nylon shell and heavy down coat moving in unison as she carefully retraced her steps back to Windy Corner. The Pakamac rippled and flowed as the wind tried incessantly to find an opening to the vulnerable padded layer beneath. She still had to steady herself when a particularly strong gust hit her but otherwise it was very warm and snug in her cocoon. Defying the weather’s best attempts at penetrating her weather armour and attacking the still vulnerable woman inside.
Fiona escorted the woman around Windy Corner and to the sanctuary of her doorway. This would allow her at least a chance to recover and draw breath. She thanked Fiona profusely for her help and then pulled her raincoat shut and pulled the hood up, tying it as tight as her cold fingers could manage. All the time the wind blew her coat skirts against the door. She continually pulled them closed across her legs, providing brief protection from the driving rain. As soon as she moved out from the shelter of the doorway, the tail wind blew her coat skirts way forward. She was forced to half run, arms flailing for balance down the rest of Windy Corner, pursued by the ever present threat of being pitched forward at any moment. She finally reached the relative safety of the High Street and moved out of Fiona’s line of sight.
By this time the second woman had managed to struggle to her feet and was clinging to the handrail. She moved slowly along it until she could cross onto the pavement. All the while the rain and wind flailed her raincoat into a complete frenzy and drenched every exposed inch of her clothing.
Fiona on seeing this, retreated to her doorway haven and huddled in ready for the next squall to bring in the inevitable near hurricane force winds. It was then that she noticed a blue figure hanging onto the handrail. The woman was making incremental progress against the raging gusts of wind that pummelled her.
My mother had decided that the weather was too nasty to be out in and headed home early. The ferocious squalls lashed the High Street area with increasing regularity sending pedestrians scurrying for shelter. Anyone unlucky enough to be caught out in the open were blown over like skittles. The sheer power of the wind and rain would shred any umbrella opened in defiance and tear off rain bonnets, hats and headscarves, sometimes all three from an especially unfortunate woman.
From behind glass, shop workers watched while pedestrians struggled with the elements. They would pass across their shop window, bending into the wind as they forced themselves forward only to reappear from the opposite direction as the latest squall blew them all way back again. Occasionally an unaccompanied umbrella would skitter past seemingly sacrificed by their owner in a desperate attempt to appease the storm gods.
My Mother had been “doorway hoping” along the street, ducking in to the nearest when the next squall threatened. Often sharing with three or four other huddled forms as the deluge hit. They would turn in to face each other ducking their heads to provide as much protection as physically possible. Mum could feel icy blasts of wind swirling around the top of her boots and behind the lower skirt of her down coat. The section of Pakamac skirt facing out would be flipped up and back on itself in turn exposing the down coat to a torrential blast of rain. This would be blown inwards to wedge between her legs but fortunately not expose the top of her boots. If she was experiencing this how much worse must it be for her less well clad companions. Worse still for those who would arrive to late and find no room in the doorway. The panic-stricken pedestrian would then disappear back out into the storm desperately looking for a miracle. In one doorway she could briefly feel someone’s hand on her arm only to hear the person’s cries slowly disappear as the poor unfortunate was blown away down the street. This reminded her of an old Pathe newsreel she’d seen as a child in the 1950’s. It featured extreme winds battering holidaymakers in Brighton. They too were seen huddling in doorways, being blown down streets and attempting to run across exposed sections of road only to be blown right over. Welcome to New Brighton she thought ruefully.
Then the squall would pass and the rain and wind would “reduce” to a mere gale. Mum would then start out again one eye on the next doorway and the other on the weather. It was like playing musical chairs, the wind starts to rise and everyone has to run for cover. Those unlucky enough to be left without shelter were simply blown down the street.
Even between squalls she was sometimes forced to walk backwards but still turning regularly to see what lay ahead. Every time her hood opening would flap madly as the icy rain found it’s way in and temporarily blinded her. She managed to successfully shelter from each squall in turn until she was at the bottom of Windy Corner.
Squinting against the rain she caught sight of a woman being blown across the road junction. She slid to a stop against the handrail opposite still holding the ruins of her umbrella. Mum realised this could only mean one thing-another squall was barrelling in. She quickly grabbed the handrail, squatted down and turned herself away from the inrushing weather. She tucked her head into her chest just as the squall hit. The rain came down so violently that it seemed to ricochet off the pavement and hammered painfully on her back. She desperately hoped that the Pakamac was robust enough to withstand this incredible assault, although somewhat reassured that if any raincoat could survive this onslaught, it was the one she was currently wrapped in.
Her coats skirts were rhythmically billowing up then forced down against her knees and lower legs. She realised the potential danger and pulled the down coat hem tight against her calves with her free hand. The rear skirt of her Pakamac blew right up once again exposing her down coat to a lashing. Fortunately, she had a firm hold of the hem and so avoided the fate Elaine had suffered.
The rain finally began to ease as the squall passed and Mum gingerly stood up and smoothed down the skirt of her by now slick Pakamac with her free hand while the other firmly held onto the handrail. She then resumed her slog up around Windy Corner all the while steeling herself against the icy wind and rain.
She then saw the welcome sight of a figure in vivid red which could only mean Fiona and her doorway sanctuary. Fiona motioned my mother to hurry across to the doorway worried that the next squall could catch her out in the open. The two women shouted their greetings and headed into the interior hall and temporary safety.
My mother undid her hoods and said” What a day to be out. I’m so glad I took your advice on foul weather protection. Although I still managed to get my down coat soaked in places” She lifted the Pakamac and showed Fiona the dark stains on her down coat skirt. “Still cosy warm underneath though” Fiona replied “Now we’ll be able to face the storm together. Hopefully without meeting any more squalls” Mum involuntarily shivered at the thought. Fiona gave her a reassuring squeeze on the arm.
“OK let’s batten down the hatches and go into full storm mode” Fiona said. Hoods were raised and severely tightened and their Pakamacs were pulled down tight over their heavy under coats. It was routine for Fiona, but she cast a protective eye over her friend to make sure she was as snug and secure as possible. If they did have to face a squall out in the open both would have to be as fully protected as possible.
“Ready” Mum nodded and swaddled deeper into her coats. She thrust her hand through Fiona’s arm and huddled into her shoulder. Fiona inched open the door only to hear Mum cry ” Oh my God” as she realised that there was a squall right in front of them. The door was wrenched from Fiona’s hand and slammed into the wall behind with an almighty bang. The corridor acted like a funnel intensifying the squall and forced both women back down the corridor. Mum was slammed back against the wall and forced to her knees. Fiona had been blown completely over and was desperately scrabbling for traction in order to avoid being battered into the stairs behind. All they could hope for was to hold on until the wind subsided enough for them to try and regain their footing. After what seemed like an age the maelstrom slowly receded allowing them to stand again.
They headed out of their sanctuary once again linking arms for safety and bending their heads to the foul weather. They struggled slowly up to the end of flats. At one point my Mother’s Pakamac blew up around her as the wind picked suddenly picked up. The disadvantage of the Velcro evident when both sections of her skirt moved as one. Mum stopped to smooth down the flapping nylon, all the while marvelling at the way Fiona’s Pakamac remained unaffected by the vagaries of the wind. It merely rippled and flowed as one with the down coat beneath.
They staggered on into Michael Street. The wind blasted in from two directions forcing them to stop and hold on to the railing on the church wall. Mum’s Pakamac blew up again and allowed for another soaking of her down coat. She was beginning to feel the damp seep through to her legs.
By this time, I’d decided to go and try to intercept Mum and hopefully Fiona as well and escort them home. This wasn’t as chivalrous as it sounds because it allowed me to experience another extreme Pakamac adventure and have a chance to be at close quarters with Fiona. By this time, I’d persuaded Mum to buy me a knee length snorkel parka to replace my old duffel coat. This would be ideal protection on a day like this. I slipped the beige Pakamac over the Parka and did up as many of the buttons as I could. Mum had not added Velcro to the hem yet, so my nylon golf trousers were going to be required as well. I then tightened the snorkel hood right up reducing the opening to an absolute minimum. This must be how it feels for Fiona I thought at this point.
I headed out and could immediately feel the wind buffeting me and catching the hood’s fur trim so much so that the opening almost completely closed at times. I could feel the Pakamac billowing and the skirt slapping around my legs, that exhilarated feeling was coming back. I struggled across the road just in time to see two figures staggering around Windy Corner.
Fiona looked up Michael Street and saw me clad in beige nylon being blown down the street towards them. She waved a greeting but immediately spoke to Mum and they started moving more quickly.
I joined them at this point and quickly saw the oncoming danger. There was no way they would make it to the house in time, Fiona shouted “The squall’s coming in too fast, so we need to head back to the car park”
This time the wind assisted us by acting as a strong tail wind, blowing us to the parked cars. We quickly ducked down and Fiona huddled into Mum, in turn I firmly held onto both women.
Her quick thinking protected us from being blown down the street but not from a hammering from the wind and rain. Mum lost both hoods to the hungry wind, her hair quickly becoming a tangled wet mess. We tightly held onto each other, desperate in the knowledge that if separated the storm would easily blow us down, around Windy Corner and into who knows what. Finally, the wind began to decrease and the rain returned to merely lashing at us. We quickly stood up, formed a chain and ran as fast as the storm allowed to the house. Twice being blown completely sideways by an angry gust.
The wind assaulted us from several directions at the umbrella graveyard, blowing us to a standstill for several seconds. Mum’s Pakamac skirt blowing up around her waist, her down coat billowing alarmingly. I could imagine the extreme discomfort she must be suffering from the intrusive wind swirling behind her breached weather armour. Unfortunately, her arms were linked to Fiona’s and mine so there was nothing she could do to counter this. My Pakamac might as well have been a jacket since the skirt was almost continuously being blown behind me.
A brief lull in the storm allowed us to make a rush across the road and up to the front door.
Mum opening the door and Fiona and I continued in almost without breaking our stride.
The two women both let out cries of relief and hugged each other, then me. Mum said “I think we need that cuppa more than ever after today and maybe something a bit stronger, purely medicinal of course”. Fiona replied “Oh yes please”
Once we’d settled into the living room and my mother asked about Fiona’s latest weather upgrades.
Fiona ran her hand down the ski salopettes and bib she was wearing. “Much warmer and drier than the over trousers” she said. Fiona then got up and disappeared into the hall, quickly returning wearing her down coat and Pakamac.
“I took your Velcro to its logical conclusion. I ran continuous lengths around the inside and outside of the hem. This allowed me to attach the Pakamac securely to the bottom of the down coat, under the hem and up inside as well. I replaced the toggle fastenings with a full-length zip and ran Velcro strips up both sides of it as well. The button fastenings now only close the Pakamac over the down coat and effectively means both are completely attached to each other.”
She opened the coats to reveal two leg straps attached at the front “No more worrying about the skirts billowing up or worse” involuntarily shuddering at the thought of Elaine’s horrible experience.
I added Velcro to the down hood so there was no chance of the wind getting between it and the Pakamac”
“Finally, I added fake fur trim to the down coat hood and it’s amazing how much more protected you are from the wind”
We didn’t realise then that she had pre-empted the modern-day waterproof down coat by twenty years.
Mum replied “Well I think you’ve developed the ultimate Pakamac, I need to buy more Velcro.”
All this while I had become increasingly aroused by Fiona’s conversation. She turned to me and smiled and winked. It was then that I realised that she had been perfectly aware of the affect her attire had on me all along. What a fabulous woman.
The End

There is only one word to say, Mr McMac: WOW!!!!!!!!!! You have beaten all of us, even Susan, on our own turf!!!!!!!

I've been looking through my various links for suitable rainwear clips and came across these two:-
http://images.nfb.ca/images/pages/en/search.html?clipIndex=12&resultsClipId=59323&nbpage=50&pageStr=1&newSearch=true&limitSearch=501&keyword=rain+wind&termsList=&geo=&year_from=&year_until=&collection=&duration_from=&duration_until=&number=&__son=&highDef=&clipAvailable=true&aspectRatio=&resolution=&sourceFormat=&uvcount=&avcount=&parentTopic=&searchTopic=
The woman at 0.30 wears a nylon raincoat. I love the way she's blown to a standstill and struggles to control her umbrella.
I can't even remember how I came across this second one, since it's title gives no clue to the Pakamac feast that start's at 0.42:-
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UdxSHtFRTsk

Here's the next part of my Pakamac Odyssey:-

Part 5-Windy Corner Ordeal

“OK here we go” Fiona said.
She carefully opened the door and steeled herself to the hell that awaited them. The storm had now turned even nastier with the street dotted with smashed roof tiles, chimney hats and various other unidentifiable objects.
The three women huddled into the smallest size possible as they exited the doorway. The door helpfully slammed shut behind them removing the need for Fiona to do it herself.
This would be the last favour the weather would do Fiona thought and she would be right.
Once clear of the doorway the three hardy souls staggered forward as one against the tremendous gale and blinding sleet. Fiona’s Pakamac skirt was once again torn open by the wind, this time destroying the bottom two poppers in the process. She was unable to do anything to stop this as her one free hand was holding the voluminous shawl tightly around her hood.
Elaine’s ruined cape was billowing alarmingly and threatening to break loose at any moment. She was using her one free hand to desperately try and prevent this. In contrast her reinforced hoods were providing very welcome protection after the previous disastrous attempt.
Barbara struggled to keep her footing and was having to be held steady by the other two women. Fiona’s spare Pakamac was just about coping with the job of protecting her. The below the knee button was proving invaluable as it greatly restricted the amount of skirt lost to the storm and so kept the rippling duffel coat skirt from blowing completely open. Barbara found the double hood arrangement a revelation after the shawl she had previously used. It was warm and dry and cocooned her head deliciously. Worryingly though she was feeling increasingly chilled and was now dreading every new blast of icy wind, each one slicing through her protective layers like a knife. Her feet and lower legs were like blocks of ice and her hands had lost all feeling even though she had them curled tight deep inside the Pakamacs pockets. She cursed her so called winter gloves which had clearly never been designed for such dreadful conditions.
As if angered by the girls temerity, the wind redoubled it’s efforts to such an extent that all three women were forced to huddle down into tight balls tucking their heads into their arms and waiting for the maelstrom to pass. Barbara lost her footing again and started to slide back down the pavement. Fiona grabbed hold and pulled her into her huddle. Barbara quickly joined them, realising that there was safety in numbers.
Eventually the wind relented enough for the girls to relink arms and continue their battle with the elements. They realised that trying to move against the wind’s full force was both foolish and probably dangerous. Instead, they would hunker down as the wind blasted over them and then quickly scuttle forward a yard or two and then hunker down again, ready for the next battering.
Fiona noticed that Barbara was becoming more and more fatigued due to a combination of the wind chilling effect and the exertion of just staying on her feet. She’d hoped that the duffel coat could have protected Barbara for the relatively short time it would take from the doorway to their car. This may have been true earlier in the day but now the temperature had dropped dangerously and the sleet was turning into heavy wet snow. The girls were beginning to take on the appearance of snowmen.
The half-way point of Windy Corner was marked by the end of the three-storey block of flats that greatly contributed to it’s infamous wind tunnel effect. The rest of the corner was taken up by a triangular car park bounded on the other two side by the flats and the boundary wall of the church at the bottom of Michael Street. Fiona hoped to take a quick rest stop behind one of the parked cars. She was pleased to see that the car park was full. She nudged Barbara’s arm and started to slowly move over the treacherous pavement to the nearest car. All the while the wind and snow battered the trio unrelentingly.
They squatted behind the car and Fiona rummaged in her down pocket for the torch. She opened up the shawl so her face was just visible and switched the torch on to illuminate it.
“Where’s your car” she said to the two other girls. Elaine didn’t risk undoing her hoods but shouted back “Across the road”. Barbara just managed to say” I’m freezing and don’t have any feeling in my feet and hands” “Don’t worry we’re nearly there” Fiona said and then added “Time to reassemble your coats girls” Fiona played the torch over the ruins of her Pakamac skirt and sighed. The right-hand section had a large whole torn in it, caused by the two lower poppers being ripped off. They were still attached along with the surrounding nylon to the studs on the left-hand section. She forcefully reattached the third and fourth poppers and closed up her head shawl again. The rest of the Pakamac was covered in a thin layer of snow but more concerning was the wet skirt of the down coat. In the absence of the Pakamac skirt it had been steadily soaked and was becoming increasingly vulnerable to wind penetration.
Fiona had the added complication that she needed the coat at 100% effectiveness for tomorrow’s shifts.
Elaine’s down coat was in worse shape than Fiona’s due to her protective nylon shell being in an even poorer state than the Pakamac.
Outwardly, Barbara seemed to be the best protected, but she was now constantly shivering and her teeth had started to chatter.
The women rose to a semi standing position and immediately got blasted by the snow laden gale-force gusts which forced them to stagger back against the building wall. This was becoming dangerous Fiona thought. Crouching back down again the women threaded their way through the relative safety of the parked cars. On one occasion the wind managed to hit hard enough to make girls resume their protective huddles. They eventually managed to reach the far side of the car park, but the remainder of the route provided no cover whatsoever.
Fiona could just make out the shapes of parked cars on the far side of the road. She turned to Elaine and mimed a steering wheel and pointed. The car they were aiming for turned out to be further down the road than their current position. Fiona reckoned that their best chance was to slide across the road on their bums and then make a dash for the car.
If they timed it right the wind would blow them across without too much difficulty. First, they had to come around the car park wall and get onto the pavement. They huddled into themselves, linking arms and thrusting their hands deep into their pockets. Fiona was the first to step out from behind the car and was immediately blown to a standstill, she waited until the wind subsided a little and nipped around the opening onto the other side of the wall. The other two quickly followed. They were now fully exposed to the ferocious elements. Fiona’s Pakamac skirt blew wide open once again and the down coat skirt billowed out as an icy blast of wind forced it’s way up inside. This time it burst past the tie belt and swirled around her chest. She shivered uncontrollably and turned away from the wind in reaction to this horrible intrusion. The final layer of protection had been breached and she was now desperate to get out of this weather.
Initially Barbara and Elaine were huddled into Fiona and so were shielded from the worst effects of the wind. But when Fiona instinctively turned her back to it, she unintentionally exposed Barbara and Elaine to the full force of the elements. The next polar gust hit to quickly for them to turn their backs and so Elaine’s tattered raincape finally burst free and flailed around her head. She immediately tried to regain control of it but in doing so broke the linked arms. She was blown over onto the pavement and spun around legs akimbo ending up with the bottom of her down coat exposed to the oncoming gale. Unlike Fiona she only had winter boots and a heavy tweed skirt on underneath. The down skirt belled up spectacularly as an enormous gust of wind sprayed wet snow all over her lower body. Elaine was in agony. It was like being hit by liquid nitrogen spray at the Doctors. Her inner layers and panties were now sodden with wet snow.
Barbara tried to reach out to Elaine but was blown back then over with her Pakamac skirt finally busting free and flapping uselessly around her legs. The upper portion of her Pakamac billowed between every fastening until finally her neck button gave way partially releasing her hood. Fortunately, she slithered to a stop facing away from the wind, avoiding the terrible fate inflicted on Elaine.
Fiona turned and seeing both of her companions were now lying on the pavement squatted down to join them. Elaine had by now reversed direction and was facing down the hill towards Windy Corner. This allowed enough respite to regain some feelings in her numbed lower body.
The three women slowly edged towards each other and linked arms once more. Each one was now frozen to the core and surrounded by flapping nylon.
Fiona pulled them across the pavement and down onto the road. With luck the next storm force gust would blow them across the sloping road. Sure enough they started to move and slide diagonally across the road. They were stopped by the crown of the road which would have to be crested if the other side was to be reached. All this time each of the three women were suffering from body chilling and numbness. Hypothermia was close to setting in. If only they could make the final few dozen yards to the car.
The wind suddenly picked up again and started them sliding. Fiona turned her rump to the approaching kerb to cushion the expected blow which wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. She had enough momentum left over to sprawl onto the pavement. Fiona knew that they couldn’t stay exposed like this for much longer so started to slide down the pavement towards the car. The girls Pakamac skirts, were useful in reducing friction and allowing them to pick up a little momentum. After what seemed like an eternity the trio arrived at the car. Elaine rummaged around in her bag and finally pulled out the keys. Only the quick dash to the door now separated them from warm paradise. Fiona took the keys and raised herself to a squat allowing her Pakamac to resume it’s useless flailing. She waited for her chance holding the keys in a death like grip and then sprang up and over to the side of the car. She was just upright long enough to be caught by one last ferocious wind blast which made her stagger against the side of the next car. She carefully opened the door a crack until she could get a full grip of it, all the while the hungry wind was looking for any way to wrest the door away from her. She waited and then as the latest gust past, swung the door open and flung herself into the car all the while holding the door against the wind. Elaine pushed Barbara along the pavement and into the space between the cars. Fiona held the door firmly and Elaine helped Barbara into the back seat next to Fiona. Elaine then waited and once she deemed it safe opened the driver’s door and launched herself into the car.
After what seemed like an age the engine finally caught and the three occupants waited for the hot air to flow. Fiona and Elaine huddled close trying to keep any warmth they had left from escaping. Slowly the heat started to filter into the cabin and warm the frozen girls. Eventually feeling returned to their numbed extremities, Barbara’s shivering eventually subsided and she was able to talk again. Elaine had her legs wide apart and down coat pulled up to allow the luxurious hot air to warm her nether regions. Fiona being the least affected, enjoyed the feeling of slowly becoming toasty warm again for the first time in what seemed like age.
All this while they could feel the car being buffeted from side to side as the wind desperately tried to tear into the girls one last time.
The journey back took an age but was relatively uneventful by comparison. The girls each had to endure one last bout of punishing wind and snow as they scurried from the car into the warming delight of their homes.

Final episode to come shortly.

The fact you haven't heard of it makes me think that my memory is playing tricks on me. I seem to remember it was a quality coat, not like a lot of the contemporaries of the time. My Mother had a blue nylon raincoat with double breasted imitation brass buttons and an across the shoulder double layer on the back. No idea the make though. She was more of a trenchcoat aficionado and that was the last nylon raincoat in her wardrobe.
Slightly off topic-down coats. As you may well be aware by now I also have a thing for ladies wrapped in long down coats. I think this is mainly due to the fact that they are still encased in nylon. Does anyone else have similar feelings. My Sister In law announced this week that she'd bought one of these:- https://www.landsend.co.uk/Womens_Hooded_Maxi_Down_Coat/pp/P_39703.html and I decided to buy my wife one as well. To my delight she loved it and was annoyed that the weather is still to mild to wear it. happy days indeed. The pictures do not do it justice. It falls to mid calf, is incredibly smooth to the touch and feels like a Pakamac. It also makes that delicious Pakamac swishing noise when you move. Windy walks along the beach will never be the same again :)
Anyway digression over.

Incidentally Mr Doudy, the Argyl style men’s nylon Pakamac from 1979, that I have, is a 5 button closure.

I’ve personally not heard of that label, McMac.

To carry on with style names of men’s Pakamacs. Another men’s vintage nylon Pakamacs, I received this week, was a style named Argyl. It’s dated May 71. Probably the oldest men’s nylon Pakamac that I own. I love the attention to detail that Pakamac employed, to document their evolution.

My father had a full length beige nylon raincoat which my mother bought him circa 1968. I remember the maker's name was McBean which was the same as a zip-up blue cagoul I had in the 70's. Does anyone know anything about this make?
My father kept the raincoat rolled up in a garage cupboard until sometime after the millennium. Unfortunately by the time I had to clear the house and garage it had gone, much to my disappointment.

When I was wearing men’s nylon Pakamacs at university, I didn’t realise that like my ladies Suzanne style nylon Pakamac, the men’s nylon Pakamacs had style names too. I’ve just been washing a vintage men’s nylon Pakamac that I’ve just received, to notice that the care instruction are dated Oct 73 and the style is Ainsdale.

I wore nylon Pakamacs at university, ten years later than you Mr Doudy. I think attitudes may have changed a bit by then because in the early seventies, I only received derogatory comments when I wore them. Which I did a lot of the time.

Strange how I tend to receive complements these days, when I’m out in one.

Here's part 4 as promised. Hope you are all enjoying this.

Part 4-Storm Companions
Windy Corner did not disappoint, the wind blasting around was absolutely ferocious, stronger than she’d ever experienced. Fiona held onto the handrail and very slowly advanced to the beginning of the corner. Her Pakamac by now was in an absolute frenzy, all the poppers below the belt had ripped open and the skirt was blowing straight up around her like a curtain. Even the down coat was billowing back and forward but the toggles held the skirt closed. She could feel the wind blowing up under the front of the down coat which swelled up markedly. Thankfully the Pakamac belt stopped this spreading all the way to her upper body which was not so well equipped to deal with this extreme weather. At this point she remembered that the coat came with a belt which in her haste she had not used. Hopefully this omission would not prove disastrous. She prayed that the overworked Pakamac belt would hold and do the job for both. Her Pakamac hood, despite being tightly tied had begun to noticeably ripple and slap against the down hood. The wind was so strong that it was pushing past the drawcord and straining the hood to almost ripping point.
She had carefully inched forward to a point level with the doorway shelter when a colossal gust of wind made her lose her footing and slide back down the icy pavement to the start of the handrail. She had just steadied herself when a wrecked umbrella came flying past like a huge flapping bat. It was quickly followed by two screaming women who were sliding uncontrollably down the pavement. The first was completely enveloped in her nylon cape which had blown up over her head. The second was clad in a traditional trenchcoat, shawl and boots which Fiona knew would never keep her protected in these atrocious conditions. Both women slid to a stop, one near to where Fiona was anchored, the other by a downpipe which she had somehow managed to cling on to. She edged towards the nearest woman who on seeing her started to do the same. The two linked arms and Fiona slowly helped the woman to her feet. She then slid across to a position behind Fiona and the relative safety of the handrail. By now the other woman had managed to crawl up the pavement to the shelter of Fiona’s favourite doorway. Fiona was struggling to stay on her feet and realised that her hood had been torn and was now madly flapping around. Fortunately, the down coat hood was untouched but now faced the full force of the storm unaided.
Fiona motioned to the woman behind her to move up and link arms. At least together they had a fighting chance of moving to the doorway and the temporary sanctuary it offered. The woman quickly huddled into Fiona who could feel her trembling with fear. She gave her a reassuring squeeze and then set off, heads down and initially making good progress. The wind then picked up dramatically and forced the women back only abating in time to allow them to regain their footing at the last possible moment. They set off again and this time the wind only managed to blow the trenchcoated woman sideways, screaming as she did so. Fiona acted quickly, squatting right down, and anchoring herself using every ounce of grip her winter boots could muster. This allowed the terrified woman to hang on and then inch herself back in close again. The wind suddenly dropped and Fiona shouted “run” as they both set off directly towards the doorway and the second woman. Fiona made it just before the wind picked up again but the trenchcoated woman was caught in the open and was blown over. Fiona was able to grab a flailing arm and haul her to safety.
They found the caped woman cowering from the storm, the remains of her nylon cape flapping uselessly around her. Fiona could now see that she had been part of the M&S rush and bought a new down coat identical to hers. The only difference was that she had tied the waist belt tightly but had inexplicably left the hood untied. The result was that her hair was blowing all over the place while the hood flapped forlornly around her neck. Fiona quickly produced her door key and shoved both women into the safety of the entrance corridor beyond. Now they would have a chance to reassemble their clothing and try to warm up.
Not unsurprisingly trenchcoat woman who chittered her name was Barbara was in the worst shape. Her trenchcoat looked as though it had long ago given up any semblance of a protective role. She’d made the cardinal error of not covering up her legs which had now turned blue with cold. She had at least used a huge shawl to cover her shoulders and head from the weather. Her hands were tucked into thick nylon covered mitts which appeared to have kept them reasonably warm. This was in stark contrast to her boots which were fashionable zip up leather jobs with heels. Fiona was not surprised Barbara had lost her footing so easily.
Cape woman who Fiona now knew was called Elaine was in much better shape. Further vindication she thought of the superior qualities of the new down coats. Elaine undid her down coat belt and retied it around the remains of her destroyed nylon cape in the hope this would keep it place. She then tied her down coat hood tight around her face followed by her cape hood which had remained miraculously intact. She had far more sensible heavy winter boots on at least giving her a chance of some grip on the ice.
Fiona learned that both her new companions worked together at a Solicitors on the High Street. They’d been allowed to leave early on account of the rapidly deteriorating weather. Their boss had loaned them two large “storm proof umbrellas” for the journey. They planned to use them like a protective nylon shield one on top of the other, giving them head to toe coverage until they reached their car. Unfortunately, they had completely underestimated the power of the storm and had only gone 100 yards or so before the first storm proof umbrella was caught by the wind and blown backwards before being destroyed. Elaine had to let go of it for fear of turning into the town’s very own Mary Poppins.
They were now down to one umbrella which still provided a fair degree of protection due to it’s enormous size. Controlling it required the strength of both women. Even then it was constantly in danger of succumbing to the incessant wind. Despite it’s protective qualities both girl’s were becoming increasingly wet and cold. Elaine’s cycling cape was constantly blowing all over the place and eventually it got entangled around a public bin. Extricating herself required the cape to be torn free making it even more uncontrollable. Barbara’s trenchcoat was done up in full storm mode but quickly succumbed to a soaking from the torrential sleety rain.
They soldiered on until they came to Windy Corner. Here they found the storm was blowing at a whole different level to before. The umbrella had to be closed to allow them to advance at all. They clung to the handrail and staggered up the slight incline, one behind the other against the raging wind. All the while becoming increasingly bedraggled.
They reached the point just beyond the end of the flats and thought that it was now possible to reopen the umbrella, but this would have disastrous results. The unfolding umbrella was hit side on by a powerful gust of wind. It inverted with a loud whooshing sound and then blew backwards dragging both girls with it. They quickly let go but not before losing their footing and bowling over. This initiated their uncontrolled slide back down Windy Corner to where Fiona was making her way slowly up.
Fiona realised that she had her spare Pakamac rolled up in the box where her tabard and lollipop were stashed. She unlocked it and turned to Barbara and said “Do you want to use my spare Pakamac and duffel coat” which she pulled out of her M&S bag. Fiona also picked up a small torch that was lying beside the raincoat thinking it may come in useful at some stage.
Barbara was overwhelmingly grateful at the offer. She quickly changed out of her inadequate trenchcoat to reveal a somewhat bedraggled business suit. The duffel coat and Pakamac were quickly donned and fully fastened up, belts cinched tight and hoods tied securely. This Pakamac was the buttoned version Fiona mentioned to me later. It had the added advantage of an extra “storm” button situated just below the knee.
Fiona undid her Pakamac and attached and cinched her down coat belt tight, then reclosed her protective Pakamac shell and made sure the lower poppers were firmly in place. Unfortunately, the hood was badly ripped and could offer no meaningful protection.
Barbara seeing this turned to Fiona and said “You should have this” offering up the huge shawl she had previously worn. Fiona smiled and thanked her. It may not be waterproof she thought but it could sacrifice itself for the good of my new down hood.
Fiona then turned to both women and said, “Barbara you seem to have the least grip from your boots so you go in the middle and we’ll take the outsides”. Both women nodded in agreement. All three women unconsciously shrank into their coats in preparation for the ordeal ahead. They linked arms and buried their balled hands deep into their raincoat pockets. All the while the storm whistled and moaned at them from beyond the door.

More of this later......

The mention of Rainstar macs reminded reminded me that I still own a man's one in shiny black PVC. This has a press stud fastening rather than buttons and is s proper Pakamac as it still has its own carrying pouch. This has a printed picture on the front showing a businessman in his Pakamac, partly unfastened to show a smart collar and tie, and carrying a briefcase, implying that a PVC Pakamac in those days was considered a perfectly smart item of rainwear for a businessman. I can recall myself when I first started work as a fresh graduate in the early 1960s, I would always wear a plastic or PVC Pakamac over my jacket, collar and tie when it was raining or rain threatened. This never attracted any comment apart from an occasional remark that I was well-prepared for the weather!