Behold--the world's most versatile garment.  Made by Sunspel. — Behold--the world's most versatile garment. Made by Sunspel.

In the context of clothing, summer is far less predictable than winter. Cold weather always requires layers of covering; whether 13 ounce worsted or 15 ounce flannel, whether a shetland vest beneath tweed or a lightweight cashmere roll-neck beneath camelhair—these decisions are about personal tolerance. The wearer can shed or pile on as necessary. Not so for summer. Depending on the occasion, warm weather might have one in a suit, where light or breathable cloth is the only defense against challenging heat, or on the beach where trunks and a polo are suddenly inadequate against a stiff, onshore breeze. I have experienced that last scenario too often; I now always bring a sweater to the beach.

What qualifies a knit as a warm weather garment is the construction and/or the composition. The most disappointing garment I have ever owned had high marks in both categories—an expensive lisle cotton crew-neck. Perhaps the problem was that it was too good; by the end of season two it was unsalvageable. I hear knit linen is more durable than cotton, with many of the same cool-wearing properties, but its loose weave and droopy weight always remind me of fishing nets—not the seaside connotation I am aiming for.

In my experience, merino wool is far superior to either. A relatively high-twist means the yarn can be woven to a smooth, breathable finish that is at once resilient and very fine. The result is something that won’t wilt in a beach bag and is smart enough for casual lunches and dinners. Merino is soft enough to be worn against bare skin—preferably this way in warm climates as when layered the insulation multiplies—and will launder easily on a delicate cycle or in a hotel sink. Laid flat on a towel-covered luggage rack before heading out, a merino sweater will be dry well before cocktail hour.

The collared knit: at home on boat decking or under an odd coat.

The way the neck is finished is what gives these various sweaters their names: crew-neck, v-neck, polo-neck, turtleneck. I have one of each, but I might as well have just one: a navy cardigan. In merino, this configuration might be the apex of versatility in wardrobe theory. I wear mine over shirts and under tweed, over polos at the beach and under a blazer to dinner. I can vaguely recall the last time I travelled without it: I was chilly.

Actually all merino knits are good for travel; in addition to resilience and versatility, they are thin enough to pack without sacrificing too much space. I find they also suggest themselves in ways they might not when home; a navy polo-collared merino knit really is very dashing with cream linen trousers. And v- and crew-necks are perhaps a man’s best excuses for neckerchiefs. Could these knits be the link between all elements of masculine style? Perhaps, but I should stop before readers suspect me of having a stake in the global merino wool trade.