Although it took until October, fall has finally arrived in New York City. The signs are everywhere: The streets no longer harbor that rich, gourmet cheese aroma of rotting garbage. Everyone says they’re excited to make dinner plans, but no one has an open evening until November. High school kids have taken over subway cars in their elbowy scrums, always shouting. (Why is there so much shouting?)

And, of course, the finance bros have broken out their Barbour jackets.

The last is probably the most subtle shift, but it may have the longest lineage. A Northeastern preppy tradition that stretches back, like so many do, to Britain, Barbour apparel can trace its heritage to 1894, when Scotsman John Barbour launched a business selling oilskins to sailors and fishermen who worked in the rugged weather of northeastern England. In the 1930s, the brand’s outerwear became a standard uniform for motorcyclists and the British submarine service. Later, the company received a royal warrant for its regular use by kings and queens as they stomped around in muddy wellies on Scotland’s perpetually damp Balmoral estate.