No longer the dork on the hill

There's a store in Manchester called Outsiders. It specialises in outdoor gear and clothing for those who like to look good, not just on hikes, climbs or trail runs, but also down at the local craft brewery. It sells brands that the lower end of the market doesn't seem to touch. Brands like Yamatomichi, Snow Peak and Hikerkind, Montbell, and wander, and Goldwin.

Being someone who loves both Japanese style and the great outdoors, I've always been drawn to Outsiders. Especially as hiking gear was never this cool when I first discovered the hills over three decades ago.

I went on a school trip to the Goyt Valley in the early '90s. I had to buy my first-ever walking boots for the occasion. And once out there with my fellow pupils, I fell in love with the fresh air, wilderness and gorgeous scenery, and never looked back. I joined a local walking club for a few years, putting up with the usual politics and sexual tension of such groups. Until I met my now-husband, who also loved walking in the hills, and thus began a lifetime of happy hikes. Without the madness of walking clubs.

Back then, the gear was never about style; it was about practicality. You didn't consider what top went with which shorts. Or whether your cap matched your shoelaces. You just grabbed whatever you could afford, as high quality as you could go – bright purple would do – and whacked it on. Not a second thought.

These days, you're out in those hills, and the kids are all dressed so brilliantly. I'm not talking about the ones in very baggy trousers – which look awesome, though anyone serious about hiking will tell you why they're a liability out there. No. I'm on about the serious adventurers who understand the need for technical fabrics and nothing you could trip up over. People who do serious stuff in the wild. They look amazing. And there I am, in my very old gear, feeling like a complete dork.

Meanwhile, down in the cities, gorpcore was happening. Fashion kids wearing hiking gear who'd never been near a hill. If you've not come across the term, it was coined in 2017 by a writer called Jason Chen at The Cut, and the "gorp" bit stands for "good ol' raisins and peanuts" – hiker slang for trail mix. The joke being that the people decked out in all this Gore-Tex were more likely to be found at brunch than halfway up a mountain. Celebrities piled in, with the likes of A$AP Rocky and Drake wearing puffers and hiking boots as streetwear. And it pushed outdoor clothing brands to up their game, designing tops and bottoms in beautiful tones and cuts, rather than the garish-coloured, tight-fitting gear of yesteryear.

Although, in fairness, the fashion kids didn't invent the good-looking gear. The Japanese had been making outdoor clothing beautiful for years – and wander, one of my favourites, was founded back in 2011 by two ex-Issey Miyake designers. Gorpcore just gave the whole thing a name. And once it had a name, everyone wanted in.

Gorpcore was something I despised at first, purely because I felt the outdoors was the one sacred place left where I didn't have to worry about how I looked. And then suddenly, out of nowhere, everyone's wearing considered fits. I likened it to that time when Glastonbury went from being a proper escape from modern life to a catwalk/influencer show. I was pretty grumpy about it for years. How dare people glamourise my little hobby or favourite festival, I would think.

And just when I go through a bit of a style reinvention myself and start enjoying dressing up again after years of not bothering, I discover that gorpcore is dead. Has been for years, apparently. Outsiders isn't really gorpcore, when you think about it. Gorpcore was fashion borrowing the gear; Outsiders is for people who actually use it – it just happens to look good too. But I'd imagine it rode that same wave when it launched.

I just looked it up on their about page and was surprised to discover that Outsiders was launched in 2017 by the very same person behind Ellis Brigham. The same year gorpcore got its name, funnily enough. Clever stuff. He spotted an opportunity and went for it. There are several branches now. But I love the one in Manchester.

It's a brilliant space on Great Ancoats Street. It's not very big. But it's welcoming and full of beautiful things. The staff are friendly and knowledgeable, too. All dressed impeccably, as you can imagine.

What struck me most about my recent visit, though, was how many younger people were standing around just chatting. Little groups of them. Do they work here? Are they staff? I asked myself. Apparently not. "Is it always like this in here?" I asked the nice lad behind the till. He chuckled and replied it was, "pretty much".

I looked around and noticed a cosy little bench where you could hang out. Magazines on a side table. The whole place felt more like somewhere to meet your mates than somewhere to buy clothes.

It doesn't surprise me. Outsiders is a smart brand name, and everything it does – from the product shots on its website to the annual social events it puts on – gives the impression of belonging. Of community. It's a club atmosphere without the weirdness. There's no concern that Debbie thinks you fancy Jim and is getting Linda to take you to one side to warn you off making any moves. It's just a genuinely nice brand that has understood a movement and tapped into it with confidence.

Ellis Brigham no doubt saw the market shifting. Younger generations were making the outdoors cool. Instead of changing its core offering, it tested out a new brand under its umbrella. Well, it fooled me. In my head, a bunch of 20-somethings had started the business from a garage.

I left the Manchester branch that day with a Montbell technical tee, a bright orange Ciele cap, a pair of olive Arc'teryx trousers, and some Montbell cream socks.

I can safely say, for the first time in my hiking career, I’ll no longer feel like the dork on the hill. Yes, there'll be a part of me that thinks I've sold out a little. Joined the horde. But really, I'm grateful to have found clothes that work as well down the pub as they do on a windy, wet day in the hills. It's two things for the price of one. Which kind of makes you realise: we owe a lot to those gorpcore kids.