The J. Peterman Company Will Always Be Delightfully Offline

“Live your best life—and more.” That’s the directive the fashion industry incessantly sells us, and quite frankly, it’s easy to see why we all (mostly) buy into it. Who wouldn’t want to pursue their best self, especially when it’s as easy as pulling out your credit card? When considering brands most successfully rooted in the idea of delivering an aspirational lifestyle, megaliths like Louis Vuitton (or anything from the LVMH-owned universe), and Ralph Lauren often come to mind. But I’d argue that the one that pursues—and achieves—this goal with the most unwavering integrity and earnestness, is the J. Peterman Company.

Since launching in 1987—a now-legendary origin story that began with a classic western duster coat, and an ad placed in The New Yorker—the company has never strayed from its ethos to encourage its customers to “live their lives the way they wish they were.” It sounds more like a mantra for a life-coaching retreat, or a book on self-actualization than a fashion or lifestyle brand, but that’s the thing: J. Peterman was never about selling a single aesthetic reflective of its own brand identity, but rather a selection of atypical and rare items inspired by travel, adventure, and the romance of bygone eras, that became the elements for a J. Peterman consumer to forge her own singular identity.    

Sure, Ralph Lauren, with its countless aesthetic pillars—western, Hollywood glamour, nautical, polo/equestrian, athletic, All-American—offers a plethora of lifestyle choices too, but the sheer size and ubiquity of the brand makes it seem almost insincere compared to the limited inventory and small production runs offered by J. Peterman. What’s more, it’s easily obvious when someone is wearing a Ralph Lauren take on western, whereas you’d never look at someone in a striped chambray vest, or a leather shirt jacket by J. Peterman and know its origin.

Every few years or so, the brand might experience a surge of attention from its discovery by a new and younger generation, or as the momentary fixation of a super-niche meme or trend. With the 2023 re-release of Titanic in commemoration of the film’s 25th anniversary, there was an uptick in interest in J. Peterman’s replica of that fictional raft-sized ‘Heart of the Ocean’ necklace. But that faux 56-carat blue diamond neckpiece was probably one of the brand’s most obviously derivative pieces, whereas a jaunty capelet coat in vibrant houndstooth plaid, or an irreverantly chic scarf-accented trench coat may simply remind you of a stranger you once saw on your travels, whose indelibly singular style left a lasting impression.

A fringe suede jacket currently on the site (for under FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS) reminds me of at least two iterations I saw at recent designer collection previews here in New York, and I’m currently obsessed with these Prada-like sunglasses, but J. Peterman’s offerings are far too anachronistic and iconic to ever find itself guilty of ripping off another brand’s designs. These are pieces that transcend time and trends, and yet they’re never boring.

And of course we can’t talk about J. Peterman without discussing how these items are presented and showcased: as illustrations, accompanied by the most dazzling, exquisitely-penned descriptions that read as living character studies. That charming capelet coat: Octavia drives much too fast toward York, where she wants to introduce to me her favorite bookstores—Minster Gate, Fossgate, Grimoire—before I catch my flight. In lieu of bracing myself for every turn and twist, I focus instead on her caped coat.

Then there’s the brand’s Counterfeit Mail Bag, based on actual mailman’s worn leather carrier (or so the copy will have you believe). The care instructions are priceless: The first scratch will kill you, but in fact, it’s the first step in the right direction: patina. So the sooner it gets scratched, nicked, bumped, dug, hit, squeezed, dropped, bent, folded, and rained on, the better. Really.

The best way to peruse these goods—item by item, one page at a time—are in the brand’s catalogue (aka, its “Owner’s Manual,” complete with edition numbers). My mom used to save these pamphlet-sized booklets of fictional excerpts for her nighttime bath, and now I do the same, with older volumes piling up under my bedside table. To a writer, these vivid, page-long tales are simply too good to let go.

Unlike Louis Vuitton and its likeminded peers, because J. Peterman has never been interested in occupying space in our monoculture, it’s been able to defiantly stick to its fabulously anachronistic ways—and vice versa. Even with the unavoidable shift to e-commerce, the company continues to pride itself on being extremely offline. There are photo images of the items now, but only if you scroll past the opening illustration. And I’d contend that if you’ve made it to that point, you’ve probably already fallen hard for whatever you’re looking at. Get the coat.