The British Flat Cap and How to Choose One
The Countrylook wardrobe
The side view usually settles it for me. You can see the little ledge of the peak and the way the top of the cap comes down to meet it. A deep crown has a lovely shape of its own, especially in soft tweed. With a big coat collar I tend to want something quieter, with a short peak and less room above the head. It’s an easier decision once you’ve seen the cap from the side.
That sloping crown and small, stiffened peak are the features I look for in a classic flat cap. A baker boy usually has more cloth gathered towards the top, often with a button at the meeting point of its panels. Hatters use the names quite freely. Look at the outline as well as the description and you’ll have a much better idea of what will arrive.
Britain has been making and wearing wool caps for centuries. The best of that story takes us from a Tudor knitting trade to a man in his good suit on Sutton High Street and into workshops still cutting cloth today. It also gives us some useful things to look for when we buy one.
The flat cap in British history
A wool cap for Sundays
One of my favourite details in the London Museum collection is a sixteenth-century wool cap with its lining knitted as part of the same piece. The knitter reduced the number of stitches to make the top round. The finished knitting was worked to felt the wool, a process called fulling, and the surface was raised and trimmed. Another surviving cap has a flat brim and part of the crown cut away. There was a lot of skilled work in something small enough to leave on a bench. See the knitted cap and the altered brim at London Museum.
In 1571 Parliament required many men and boys in England over the age of six to wear an English-made wool cap on Sundays and holy days. There were exemptions, including for people of high rank and for travellers. The penalty was three shillings and fourpence for a day of going without. The V&A explains it as a way of sustaining the English cap trade. It gives us a date for the importance of wool headwear. The low, peaked cap we recognise today belongs to a later tradition of cutting and sewing cloth to shape. Read the V&A’s account of the Cappers Act.
From the mill to the good suit
There’s a lovely bit of practical evidence in the Mills Archive. Mildred Cookson, who worked as a miller, remembered getting so much flour in her flat cap that she either vacuumed it or knocked it against a wall outside. A mouse made itself at home in it once when she left it in the mill. Photographs in the same collection show millers and millwrights wearing caps at work. Look for Cookson’s own photograph from Mapledurham in 1986. Read Cookson’s account and see the photographs.
The cap could look quite different on a day off. In a photograph taken on Sutton High Street around 1932, a man wears his with a lounge suit, waistcoat and wide trousers. London Museum describes flat caps and trilbies as part of working men’s best dress as well as ordinary streetwear. It’s the photograph I’d show a friend who was wondering whether a flat cap would work with a good overcoat. See the Sutton High Street photograph.
Finer cloth gave the cap a place in country leisure too. The Mills Archive records the use of smarter versions for informal wear among upper-class men. There’s a thread of that in today’s sporting caps, with a longer top and room at the back, while recent screen costumes have made the fuller baker boy familiar again. Laird’s own account of making caps for the fifth series of Peaky Blinders is a good window into how a modern costume can bring a particular silhouette back into view. Read Laird’s account of the commission.
What to look for when buying a flat cap
If you do one thing before you buy, measure around your head and ask to see the cap from the side. Together those two checks tell you more than the cloth name alone.
Start with a tape measure
Run a soft tape around the head where the band will sit, just above the ears and across the forehead. Keep it level and comfortably snug. Use that measurement with the maker’s chart. A shop’s “medium” is its own size. With a one-size cap I’d ask for the band measurement and how much it gives. If you’re between sizes, check the exchange terms before choosing.
Check the crown as well as the size
Two caps can fit the same circumference and sit quite differently. A shallower crown follows the head more closely. A deeper back lets the cap sit further down and gives the cloth more room above it. In a shop, turn your head, tip your chin and see where the peak goes. Online I’d look for a side photograph and ask how deep it is at the back.
Look inside
The band is the strip that actually meets your forehead. Feel where it joins and check how flat that seam lies. Take a look at the lining and the edge of the peak. I want an even seam round the front and a lining that sits smoothly inside. If the cap has a check, look at where the main pieces meet. A neat join there is a detail you can see without needing to know much about tailoring.
Buy for the weather and clothes you actually have
I’d look at wool tweed for a cap to wear with an overcoat, linen for a lighter outfit and waxed cotton for the days I’m likely to be out in drizzle. Check the whole build. A lined linen cap has another layer between the cloth and your head, and a waxed cap still has seams. Follow the maker’s care instructions, especially if the peak has a stiff insert. For a cap you plan to keep, ask about a replacement peak or band.
Read the cloth label and the making label separately
For Harris Tweed, the Orb mark certifies the cloth. The Harris Tweed Authority says the wool is dyed and spun, the cloth handwoven in islanders’ homes, and the tweed finished in the Outer Hebrides. The cap listing is where I’d look for the place it was cut and sewn. The same principle applies to Yorkshire tweed and Irish linen. A named cloth is worth knowing about, and so is the person who turned it into a cap. See what the Orb mark certifies.
Three ways to wear a flat cap
Start with a coat or jacket you already wear. I find the cap easier to choose once there’s something beside it for the colour and shape to work with.
How a flat cap is made
A good cap starts as a set of flat shapes. The curves you see over the head come from the way those pieces meet. At The Capalog in Shipley, milliner Jen Levet drafts her own patterns and cuts the cloth by hand. Some of her caps take up to eleven pieces of fabric. She points out how a tiny change made at each of eight crown seams adds up to a noticeably wider cap. It’s the best explanation I’ve found for why two caps with similar labels can look so different once they’re on. See The Capalog’s pattern notes.
Cut the cloth to the shape
Different workshops get to the cutting table in different ways. For its tweed hats, Glencroft describes shaped cutting knives set on the cloth and pushed down under a press. The same pattern can then be cut cleanly and repeatedly. At a small bench the capmaker might draw round a paper pattern and cut the pieces separately, as Levet does. On a check, the way those pieces are laid on the cloth determines where the stripes land once the seams meet. See Glencroft’s cutting and sewing process.
Build the crown and attach the peak
Once the pieces are sewn together the crown has volume. The peak is shaped separately and joined at the front, where it sets the line you see in profile. Glencroft describes using a plastic stiffener where the style needs it. Lawrence & Foster’s Garforth has a hand-sewn peak and a hessian interlining, a hidden layer that gives the cap body. If you prefer a cap that keeps its shape when you take it off, this is the part of the construction I’d ask about. See how Lawrence & Foster describes the Garforth.
Finish the parts you feel
The headband is fitted to the circumference and the lining covers the inside. The Capalog uses a sewing machine for the main seams and adds linings by hand where needed. I like turning a cap over at this point. The two details I’d pay attention to are where the band meets and whether the lining lies flat. You’ll feel those things long after you’ve stopped noticing the label. Read The Capalog’s account of making a batch.
The Countrylook Edit
These five are the ones I’d put in front of a friend, depending on the head and the coat in question. I’ve chosen specific colours and fabrics so you can compare what you’ll actually get.
Glencroft Wax Cotton Flat Cap in Green
The cap I’d keep by the back door is dark green. It would sit nicely with an old navy jacket, and waxed cotton makes sense when the morning looks damp. Glencroft describes this cap as water-resistant and lists the finished cap as made in the UK. It’s a straightforward bit of country clothing, with a peak to keep drops off your face and a plain organic cotton lining.
That lining is a good detail at this price. I’d buy it for ordinary outdoor use and keep the wax care instructions with the cap. Use the maker’s size guide for the letter sizes and check stock in green before ordering. There’s also a dark navy version if that works better with the jacket you wear most.
£36.95. Made in the UK. See the green cap and choose a size.
The Original Yorkshire Clothing Company Whippet
There’s a little purple in the Whippet’s beige check, along with the red. I like it best with navy, where both colours can show up and the cap does all the work. The Great Yorkshire Shop describes it as made in Yorkshire from Yorkshire wool, with a pure wool outer and a polyester lining. The local cloth is the thing I’d be paying for here.
The listing gives it one size. I’d ask the shop for the band circumference and whether there’s any give, especially if a lot of the hats you try on are too tight or sit loose. With the fit settled, it’s an appealing way into a properly patterned Yorkshire cap.
£45. Made in Yorkshire. See the Whippet at The Great Yorkshire Shop.
Gamble & Gunn Connor in Cream Irish Linen
Put this oatmeal linen next to a dark blue shirt and you can see what a summer cap does for an outfit. I’d wear it with an open collar and a soft jacket, or with a navy overshirt when the evening cools. The linen is from Baird McNutt. Gamble & Gunn lists the completed cap as British-made, a useful distinction when you’re looking for where both the cloth and the cap came from.
Inside is fawn satin and a petersham band. Petersham is the ribbed ribbon used to finish the inside edge. I’d choose the Connor for the colour and texture of its linen and remember the lining when weighing it up for a particularly hot day. The maker lists centimetre sizes in two-centimetre steps. Check the one you need in the selector.
£64.99. British-made. See the cream linen Connor.
Lawrence & Foster Garforth in Derwent Tweed
A shallow cap can feel as though it’s perched on the top of your head. If that’s what you find in a fitting, I’d try the Garforth. Lawrence & Foster describes it as deep through the back and crown. There’s a hand-sewn peak and hessian between the outer cloth and the inside. I like that you know where the body of the cap comes from before you order it.
Derwent is the tweed shown here. I’d give the deeper profile a little room and wear it with a simple wool coat. The Castleford workshop makes caps to order and lists centimetre sizes in single steps from 55 to 64. Pick your size before choosing Derwent on the maker’s page. If you’re buying for a date, check the dispatch estimate and the price for your selection.
£60.50. Made to order in Yorkshire. Choose a size and the Derwent cloth.
Christys’ Windsor Yorkshire Tweed Flat in Windsor Grey
What interests me about the Windsor is the length through the top. Christys’ describes its heritage cut as longer through the crown with a neat, structured back. There’s a fine pink line in the grey check. It’s the sort of thing you see up close. I’d put it with a plain charcoal overcoat and let the shape do the work.
Christys’ names the cloth as Shetland-wool tweed woven in Yorkshire by Abraham Moon & Sons, and the finished cap as made in England. It specifies topstitching and satin inside. At the upper end of this edit, that combination of a particular cut and a named mill is what I’d be paying for. Check the side view and the two-centimetre size steps before spending the extra money.
£92. Made in England. Listed at £115 before the offer. See Windsor Grey and choose a size.
Compare the five flat caps
Prices checked on and shown before delivery. Sizes are the ranges offered by the sellers. Check stock in the colour and size you want.
Swipe sideways to see all the columns.
| Cap | Fit and shape | Cloth and build | Why I’d choose it | Price | What to check |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
|
Glencroft Wax Cotton Green |
S–XXL. Shaped peak. | Waxed cotton. Organic cotton lining. | Damp days outdoors. | £36.95 | Check green stock and the size guide. |
|
The Whippet Beige, red and purple check |
One size. Close profile. | Yorkshire wool outer. Polyester lining. | A small check with plain knitwear. | £45 | Ask for band size and stretch. |
|
Gamble & Gunn Connor Cream Irish linen |
55–63 cm in 2 cm steps. | Baird McNutt linen. Satin lining and petersham band. | A light-coloured cap for summer outfits. | £64.99 | The cap is lined. Check the size selector. |
|
Lawrence & Foster Garforth Derwent tweed |
55–64 cm in 1 cm steps. Deep back and crown. | Derwent tweed. Hessian interlining and hand-sewn peak. | More depth through the back. | £60.50 | Choose your size, then Derwent. Check dispatch. |
|
Christys’ Windsor Windsor Grey |
55–63 cm in 2 cm steps. Longer crown, structured back. | Abraham Moon Shetland-wool tweed. Satin lining. | A longer line with a smart wool coat. | £92 | Price was on offer. Check the side profile. |
Five British makers behind the flat cap
There are several ways to keep making a good cap in Britain. These are the producers I’d look up for the work behind the label, from a one-person cutting table to a name that has been in the hat trade since the eighteenth century.
The Capalog in Shipley
Jen Levet came to capmaking through theatrical costume. She drafts the patterns, cuts by hand and does the main sewing in-house on a Bernina. The Capalog works from Wharf Street Studios in Shipley, West Yorkshire. The size of the operation shows up in the useful details. Levet describes fitting the band to the head measurement and working in small weekly batches.
I particularly like that she’ll talk about remaking an old favourite from a cap you still have or from photographs. That takes a good eye for what the old pattern was doing. If you’ve ever looked at a worn cap and thought the peak was the bit you’d miss, this is the maker I’d ask about keeping its shape. See The Capalog’s custom work.
Lawrence & Foster in Castleford
This family maker dates its business to 1994 and works in Castleford, West Yorkshire. Look at how many cloths it offers on a single cap pattern. The deep Garforth can be made in named tweeds or linen. Its hessian interlining and hand-sewn peak make a good example of the small decisions that give a cap a familiar outline.
Once I’d found a shape I liked, I’d be tempted to come back for the same cut in a different cloth. That’s where a workshop that makes to order is particularly interesting. You can get to know what the pattern does and then think about whether a different texture or weight would make it useful for another part of the year. Explore the Castleford maker.
The Original Yorkshire Clothing Company in Ilkley
The Scaife family’s company is based in Ilkley. In its introduction at Farfield Mill, the makers talk about using small quantities of specialist fabrics and making their caps in Yorkshire. The Great Yorkshire Shop also identifies cloth woven in the historic county. I’d look here when the colour of the cloth is the detail I want to notice first.
The Whippet is a good example. It only takes a small amount of that check to give an otherwise plain outfit something to look at. Keeping the runs small is a way to make use of an interesting cloth when it’s available. I’d ask about the exact fabric and fit if I saw another colour I liked. Read the maker’s introduction at Farfield Mill.
Glencroft in Clapham
Richard and Justina Sexton started Glencroft in 1987. The family business is based in a converted cow barn in Clapham in the Yorkshire Dales, and it says its tweed hats have been made in the UK since the beginning. I like Edward Sexton’s explanation of their cloth buying. Alongside the colours shops can reorder, the company takes tweeds that happen to be available. A small shop can end up with a pattern it may never see again.
It’s worth looking at the way Glencroft shows its cutting tools too. The photos of the press and templates make the relationship between the cloth and the price much easier to understand. The waxed cap in the edit has its own UK manufacturing listing. Read about the Sextons and Glencroft.
Christys’ London and Laird Hatters
Miller Christy learnt felt making as an apprentice in Edinburgh before setting up in London with Joseph Storrs in 1773. The firm’s history takes in the Stockport works and, later, Witney. In 2026, Laird Hatters acquired Christys’ and the company records production returning to London. I’ve put the two names together here because that change is part of how you understand the current range. Read Christys’ timeline.
Laird is a much younger maker, founded by Alex and Zofia in 2009. Its own cap work includes the fuller silhouettes it supplied for Peaky Blinders. I’d look at the Windsor and one of those fuller cuts in profile to see how much room there still is for judgement in the pattern. One old trade, and some very different things to wear with a coat. Read about Laird’s workshop and repair service.