Never judge a book buy its cover. Unless that book is a fly fisher and that cover happens to have a ventilated back cape. In that case, judge away. Because the only reasonable judgement that you could come to is this: that person knows how how to freaking fish.

Anyone who is anyone knows that the peak of comfort, performance, and fashion in angling starts and stops with the caped casting shirt. But how? And why? To answer these questions, we must look back in the annals of fly fishing history.

Charles Cotton, in his contributions to Izaak Walton’s Compleat Angler, references the quintessential angling attire: “If the fisher finds himself perspiring a bit from his actions in casting or strolling, a conspicuous slit may be drawn about his back. From shoulder to shoulder, this tailored addition summons the cool breeze from the water or valley floor and swirls it across the skin. It is most refreshing; stimulating one to making a finer presentation of fly or lure. It is also, I have found, a big hit with the ladies.”

This is clear evidence that the caped shirt was a fishing mainstay as far back as the 17th century. As generations passed on, as bamboo gave way to graphite and catgut was replaced with nylon, aft aeration held strong. This feature of fly fishing finery has only become more favorable with the past few decades’ use of synthetic fabrics. Quick-drying, sweat-wicking, UV-shielding, and ventilation? Plus huge pockets and roll-up, button-secured sleeves? What a time to be alive. What a time to wear shirts.

While every angling label out there has a handful of caped casting shirts, one maker stands above the rest. Columbia Sportswear’s iconic upside-down triangle patch is a stamp of authenticity. Furthermore, if some ignorant passerby questions the purpose of an adult walking into Costco bearing a Bassmaster backflap, the patch spells it out in plain English. Professional Fishing Gear. So make way.

Although newer “styles” and “trends” and “people with taste” have come along, the caped caster is a stalwart. It is an elegant garment for a more civilized age. It is the laid-back cousin of the business oxford.  Lore has it that some have thrown a sports jacket over one and gone to a wedding. And why shouldn’t they? It effuses classiness wherever it is found. Head to the fly shop. Sit at the boat launch. Spend a day at a fly fishing show. The most revered members of the community will be wearing something that allows them to be graced by the gentlest of gales. And the true upper crust will have their own name embroidered over their breast.

The unassailable truth is that the caped-back fly fishing shirt provides more than relief for sweaty shoulder blades. It is a timeless icon. From the famed rivers of the Catskills to the flats of the Keys, from the wild waters of the Pacific Northwest to the local Walmart, one garment garners respect and attention. When asked about the ubiquity of the design, an unnamed Columbia Sportswear higher-up was quick with an answer. “Why put capes on shirts? Try these names on for size: Bonaparte, Batman, Bill Dance. Need I say more?”

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In case this article pinches you in a painfully personal manner, like a Japanese beetle who’s legs are stuck in the mesh lining of your fine back-ventilation (ask me how I know), please know that I own countless caped shirts. Long sleeve. Short sleeve. Cotton. Nylon. Plaids, solids, and even camo. I’ll wear them on the water, and I’ll wear them to a summer cookout. If I’m really putting on airs, I’ll accessorize with some cargo shorts. Function > Form