I've Spent 12 Years Designing Coats. The Amélie Is the One I Personally Reach For When It's Actually Raining — And Today I Want to Tell You Why It's Worth $126.

When I started designing the Amélie, my first decision was about what waterproof actually means.

Most coats marketed as "waterproof" are water-resistant. There's a difference. Water-resistant means the rain takes a few minutes to get through. Waterproof means it doesn't get through. We chose the more expensive treatment, the one that beads water on the surface like a waxed jacket.

I tested the first prototype myself, here in Queenstown, in a downpour I wouldn't wish on anyone. Twenty minutes outside. When I came in and unzipped it, the sherpa fleece lining was completely dry. That was the moment I knew we had something worth selling.

The exterior is a quilted weather-treated fabric. Rain beads on it. Wind doesn't get through it. And it makes no noise when you move — none of the awful crinkling sound that plastic raincoats make.

The exterior in heavy rain. Water beads on the surface. The interior stays bone dry.

This is the design decision I'm most proud of.

Most "waterproof jackets" are shells. They keep the rain out, but they have no warmth. You still need a fleece underneath, then a jumper underneath that. By the time you're dressed for actual cold rain, you're wearing four layers and you can barely move your arms.

I refused to do that. We added a full sherpa fleece lining — thick, cream-coloured, soft to the touch — that runs from the inside of the hood all the way down to the hem. When you put the Amélie on, you are warm immediately. Not in twenty minutes. Immediately.

It means the Amélie replaces three pieces of clothing for most of our customers. The shell, the fleece, and the jumper become one coat. One zip. One garment. One layer between you and whatever the weather has decided to do today.

The full sherpa fleece interior. Thick, soft, and warm the second you put it on.

If you've ever stood in a wind that comes off open water, you know that a zip alone is not enough. The cold air finds the gap where the zipper teeth meet and goes straight through.

I added a double closure for that exact reason. There's the main zip, and then there's a full-length wind flap that closes over it with metal snap buttons. When you have both fastened, the wind has nowhere to enter the coat.

The metal snaps are not an aesthetic choice. They're functional. Plastic snaps break in cold weather. Metal snaps don't. After the cost of materials and the cost of the more expensive components, this is the kind of detail that costs a brand a few extra cents per coat. Most brands skip it. We don't.

I've worn the Amélie at our local sports field at 7am on the kind of morning where every other parent is wishing they'd stayed in bed. The wind couldn't reach me. That was the brief.

Most coat hoods are designed for the product photograph. Looks fine on the model standing still in a studio. The moment you move — or the moment any actual wind happens — they fall off your head, sit too far forward, or flap behind you like a useless cape.

The Amélie's hood has adjustable drawcords with metal toggles on either side. Pull them tight and the hood stays exactly where you've placed it — sherpa lining against your cheeks, wind blocked, your face protected. Loosen them when you're indoors and the hood sits naturally without bunching at the back of your neck.

It's the first hood I've ever made that I haven't wanted to rip off after thirty seconds. And after twelve years of designing coats, I can tell you that's harder to get right than it sounds.

The adjustable drawcord hood with sherpa lining. It stays where you put it.

Two large patch pockets at the front with button closures — deep enough for gloves, a dog lead, your hands when you've forgotten your gloves, or a small umbrella you definitely meant to use earlier. Two zip pockets at the chest for your phone and keys, where they won't fall out when you bend down to pick something up.

Everything stays dry because the waterproof exterior covers the pocket openings. I left my phone in the chest pocket of mine during a heavy downpour last winter and it came out completely dry.

I am 60 years old. I know what a woman of our age actually carries. We are not the women fashion designers think of when they design coats — those women apparently only carry a single keycard and a tube of lip balm. We carry the things that make our actual lives function. The Amélie respects that.

Deep patch pockets with button closures, plus chest zip pockets for the things that need to stay dry.

I'm going to be honest with you about something I probably shouldn't say.

This week is our Australian launch. Sarah and I have made the decision to put our entire collection at over 50% off — and we've kept those launch prices for every Australian woman trying us for the first time. The Amélie at $126 is not what we normally charge. It's what we've decided to charge to remove every reason for an Australian woman to hesitate before discovering us.

We are not making money on these first orders. The materials, the production, the proper team of seamstresses we pay fairly, the shipping across the Tasman — at $126 the maths barely works for us. What we're buying is the chance for you to receive an Amélie with your name on the box, hold it, try it on, and decide for yourself whether everything I've written here is true.

Once Aurora Classics has earned its place in Australia the way it has in New Zealand, our prices will return to normal. We have to. We have a team to pay properly and standards we're not willing to compromise. But for now — for this launch — your discovery of us is more important to me than the margin on a single coat.

If twelve years of running this business has taught me anything, it's that an Australian woman who tries an Aurora Classics coat once usually comes back. That's the bet I'm placing on the Amélie at $126.