Coorie: much more than the Scottish hygge
A WARM WELCOME
It’s the very essence of Caledonian culture, it’s been around forever – and at last there’s a word for it, writes Gabriella Bennett
In Scotland, you know you’re in good company when a friend or family member pats a small space on their couch and invites you to “coorie in”. Squashed next to them, you might not have an awful lot of room, but at least you’re snug.
Coorie has long been synonymous with nestling up to a loved one, but only recently has it entered everyday parlance as a way to describe a scene. One equally warm and comforting, where a cosy room lit by a flickering fire provides refuge from the banshee wind and horizontal rain outside.
The art of coorie has been around for hundreds of years, yet summing up the essence of Scottishness in a single term has proved elusive. Now we can put both word and concept together to give us a comfortable manifesto for living.
I was born on England’s south coast and, although I grew up in Fife, it was in Glasgow where I first heard the word “coorie” used, first by friends and then, later, in its new incarnation, through my work as a lifestyle journalist.
When talking with interior designers I began to hear “coorie” as a word used to describe Scottish homes with sheepskin-covered sofas and log-burning stoves, where people wanted to spend time with each other. When I put this new usage to Scots textile artists and makers, they seemed excited. They spoke passionately about how they had long searched for a word that described their work; one that referenced their Scottish heritage yet implied a contemporary spin. Maybe, they told me, they could borrow the word to illustrate their creativity.
Coorie can be applied to almost every aspect of life: from buying clothes that reinvent traditional Scottish materials, to eating food grown in Lairg or the Borders, to exploring the country’s hidden nooks and enjoying outdoor adventures.
The ideal coorie scene should reflect a balance of the outside and in. Bring to mind a day spent Munro-bagging or loch swimming, bookended by a bowl of something hot and nourishing as you dry off with a dog at your side. Don’t forget smell: faint lanolin clinging to woollen blankets, cinnamon dissolving into porridge on the hob, the pinch of winter air on a Trossachs morning. If King Creosote is playing as you road-trip across the north-west
If King Creosote is playing as you road-trip across the north-west Highlands, all the better
Highlands, all the better. The more home-grown ingredients are added to the mix, the coorier life will be.
Derived from Old Scots, there is a soothing look, sound and shape to coorie: soft in the mouth and easy to pronounce. A kind of dove’s trill for the human tongue. In their travel predictions for this year, Visitscotland tipped còsagach, similar to coorie, as a trend. The Gaelic word loosely translates to mean cosy; the tourist board encourages visitors staying in Highland cabins to get comfy beside a roaring fire with a book, a hot toddy and good friends.
For some, this idea is a shade too close to the lifestyles our Nordic cousins have been exporting in recent years such as hygge and lagom, the Danish and Swedish movements of living well.
But coorie has obvious differences. Where hygge pursues happiness through candles, coffee and togetherness, coorie seeks to make the most of what comes from Scotland to feel satisfied. Lagom is all about balancing frugality and fairness. Coorie takes into account being kind to the earth and our wallets, but can extend to premium experiences as well.
Coorie is more than simply being cosy. Sure, it’s linked, but it’s also about working out how to be in tune with our surroundings to evoke that feeling.
The new coorie represents a way of life where peacefulness comes from engaging with our heritage. Life can be harsh in a country’s most isolated locations, but the art of coorie explores how ingenuity has been born from extreme conditions.
On a collection of over 100 islands flung far out between the Atlantic Ocean and the North Sea, Shetlanders use what they have to hand to make what they need. In bygone years islanders wove taatits – sturdy rugs that doubled as bedcovers – and Fair Isle jumpers with wool from island sheep. Their legend has inspired foreign weavers to up sticks and continue the tradition on Shetland soil. Fashion houses from around the world have since turned their attention to Scotland’s most northern archipelago.
Amid trying circumstances, Scots and honorary Scots have dug deep and fought through. They have also asked people close by for help. The result is a country greater than the sum of its parts, a bothy in the storm offering shelter through shared ideas and homage paid to the past. You only need to knock on the door.
The Art of Coorie by Gabriella Bennet (Black & White) is available for £12.99 plus p&p from books.telegraph.co.uk