Icebreaker briefs may not be the world’s worst underwear, but they’re the worst waste of forty bucks I’ve ever spent on gotch.
They should really change the name to Crack Chafer, because that’s what these things excel at.
This chameleon-like garment transforms itself into a sumo mawashi the moment you start hiking.
Once it has lodged itself in your crack, it saws up and down like a violinist playing a particularly manic fugue.
The further you hike, the louder you’ll swear. Profanity echos through the hills and dales, terrifying errant sheep and sending already panic-prone marmots into a squealing frenzy.
You’ll be squealing too, of course, as you reach back every five minutes in a futile attempt to dig these briefs out of your arse crack.
At least the mawashi worn by sumo wrestlers contains one’s balls. I can’t say the same for these Icebreakers. The elastic that was supposed to cling to my legs bisected my ballsack, lodging there with stubborn persistence, mirroring the back that was gleefully chafing away.
Don’t take my word for it. Here are a few of the many one-star reviews I found on the company’s own website:
You and me both, Nick from Perth.
My idea of hiking does NOT involve a fiddler playing ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’ on my fundament.
I have the sort of stubbornness that can only be measured in geological time, paired with a martial artist’s tolerance for pain, but I was no match for the daily dose of misery this garment dished out.
My high traverse of the Pyrenees took 35 days, from Atlantic to Mediterranean. I wore these briefs with grim determination for the first three weeks, but I finally gave up on Day 20 when I passed through a town with an outdoor shop.
I replaced them with two pairs of the aptly-named Saxx, whose trademarked BallPark Pouch® was like a warm palm cradling my family jewels in elasticized comfort. The best outdoor underwear I’ve ever owned. The anti-Icebreaker, in fact.
At this point, you’re probably wondering what I was thinking. Why did I buy those awful Crack Chafers in the first place?
I bought two pairs of Icebreaker briefs — at €39.95 each! — for my Pyrenees hike because merino’s microbial properties means it doesn’t stink like synthetic outdoor gear. I chose the briefs rather than boxer-briefs on the logic that the smaller ones would dry faster when I rinsed them in a stream and hung them on my backpack in the sun.
I regretted my decision every day. I doubt anyone short of Dante could describe what it’s like to wear these things.
Unfortunately, Icebreaker didn’t just fall short in the realm of underwear.
I bought an Icebreaker t-shirt for this hike, too. I like their snug fit and stink-resistance, but their durability is unacceptably bad, especially for the high price.
My t-shirt was peppered with holes by the halfway point. By the end, it looked like I’d been attacked by moths.
And it wasn’t just the shirt I wore every day while walking. I have another Icebreaker t-shirt that I only wore at night. That has a big hole in it, too.
I can’t see how merino wool is to blame for this. I have another merino t-shirt from Ibex. I got it in 2007 when testing gear on a magazine assignment. Eighteen years after that desert trip, it’s still going strong.
To be fair, my Ibex shirt is heavier than these Icebreaker t-shirts. The thinner Icebreaker weave may be to blame for their fragility. But surely durability is a requirement when it comes to outdoor gear?
I don’t expect a t-shirt to last 18 years like my Ibex shirt. But falling apart halfway through a single trip is unacceptable — especially for a t-shirt that costs €85.95 at Globetrotter in Berlin.
