Evening Standard - ES Magazine
TWEE’S COMPANY
“My favourite shop has the embarrassing tag line of ‘children’s clothes for adults’”
Tea dresses, cartoon knits and vibrant berets… Jessica Benjamin unpacks her hyper-cutesy wardrobe as the trend roars — or quietly chirps — back
In my 2014 school leavers’ yearbook, six individual messages referenced my dress sense. ‘Your wardrobe looks like the love child of a gel pen and a rainbow,’ said one friend. I wasn’t surprised: even teachers on parents’ evening had occasionally commented on my choice of outfits: mostly, I assume, because what I wore, and continue to wear, is incredibly twee.
Before we go further let me preface this by saying I don’t think I’m ‘not like other girls’ — in fact, Tumblr, TV sitcoms and Zooey Deschanel have proven that I am very much like other girls. It’s more that, since twee is having a revival after its original 2014 peak, I’m feeling pretty smug about the fact that my saccharine-sweet wardrobe is back in fashion — something I was alerted to via my TikTok ‘for you’ page.
Cue She & Him’s ‘Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?’ playing over a montage of tea dresses, coloured tights and berets. My own collection of berets, including one with a house and cat embroidered on it by my grandpa’s neighbour Jill (hi, Jill), rejoiced in their dedicated beret box. Designers are joining in, too: Miu Miu ballet flats are having a resurgence, Shushu/ Tong’s new collaboration with Charles & Keith is taking over Instagram feeds, and Ganni collars have been dominating the field of neck-ccessories (is that a thing?).
The ‘twee aesthetic’ is hyper-feminine, slightly preppy and very cutesy. I’m talking
Mary Janes, frilly collars, A-line skirts, embroidery, bows, headbands and knitwear — a lot of knitwear. My recent purchases of a Winnie the Pooh knit and a vest featuring a dog saying ‘Wow!’ have joined the ranks of my beloved collection of cardigans featuring washing lines, peg buttons, cherry pies and chocolate boxes. I didn’t own a pair of jeans or trainers until 2016. My favourite shop has the embarrassing tag line of ‘children’s clothes for adults’, something I’m reminded of every time I get a targeted ad for toddler’s clothes and wish they were available in my size.
I suppose if you’re looking back to when it all began, my wardrobe has never not been twee. Bar a brief interlude when I became friends with a Swedish girl (hi, Tora) in my first year of university and flirted with a Scandi look, I’ve always been drawn to the cuter things in life. My favourite outfit when I was two was a fairy dress and wellington boots, which while sounding pretty normal for a toddler, hasn’t really changed now that I’m 26.
It’s not even that I go out of my way to dress twee. I think most of the time I dress relatively low-key: a fun jumper and jeans is my typical office attire. But when you have a wardrobe stuffed with as much embroidery and cuteness as I do, it’s hard to avoid. In fact, dressing plainly is more of a challenge than ever (funerals have an added layer of emotional difficulty in that I genuinely have nothing to wear).
While some people (ie me) are revelling in the fact that their 10-year-old clothes are triumphantly returning to shop floors, others aren’t quite as keen, citing 2014’s thin, white Tumblr era as a reason for twee to stay in the past. As a relatively slim white woman, I’m probably not best qualified to argue — but for me, twee in 2022 is a different beast. This time around, it’s much more inclusive, no longer inspired by Cassie from Skins and has far less ukulele involved, which is good news for everyone.
Much like any hyped-up TikTok trend, the twee revival is likely to be short-lived, so I’d advise making the most of it while you can. Lighten up, don a beret and leave all semblance of sophistication at the door: it’s much more fun on the twee side of life.