Are you ready to wear a jumpsuit to a wedding?
The longer it takes for a trend to mature, the more deeply its roots expand. I know this for a fact because 10 years ago I had to wear a jumpsuit for a feature. How daring and modern it felt back then, which was amazing, considering it had been around for 90 years.
Now? After a slow and lengthy bedding-in period, it’s a classic. I know this for a fact too, because John Lewis reports that the jumpsuit is one of its bestselling categories. Boden’s doing a roaring business in them too. Key in the words on the M&S site and at least 12 variations crop up.
I don’t want to stamp on this small bubble of hope on the high street, but as an early adopter, I have – along with everyone else who has ever worn one – spotted a small blip in the jumpsuit’s halo of perfection.
But first let me say how utterly brilliant they are in theory. A one-stop, no-brainer with all the streamlined unfussiness of a dress but none of the up-skirting liabilities. Plus there’s the backstory. For decades the jumpsuit has been synonymous with laudable intentions, admirable people and an engine of change: the honest worker (Levi Strauss’s denim overalls are arguably the single item of clothing that built the USA); the emancipated woman (no Seventies feminist worthy of the description was without one); the adventurist (the first jumpsuit came into existence courtesy of a Florentine artist and designer, for parachutists, aviators and racing-car drivers).
But here’s the thing: they’re something of a pain to get in and out of. Not a major pain like childbirth, but a minor infraction that intrudes on one’s day, several times, especially if one is so human as to have to pee.
There are other problems. I’m sorry, but they just don’t work with most jumpers. They look fine with a jumper that’s cut loose enough (but not too loose), is just the right length (don’t ask me what that is, because it’s a hugely complicated variable that makes the backstop look like a game of marbles, dependent on how long your body is, how short the legs of your jumpsuit are, and what heels you’re wearing). The right jumper should also possess the kind of neckline that sits well over other necklines. Own many such jumpers, do you?
I know, I know, you can wear a jumper underneath your jumpsuit. But what if you suddenly feel hot in the middle of a meeting? Well, OK, but don’t try taking your jacket off, casually, at any point, because there will be a sleeves stand-off.
So, fine in principle but crumbles to dust in practice. And that’s sad, because the look and attitude of a jumpsuit – all poised, primed and ready to go, and not caring one iota whether anyone comes over and says, “Really? A jumpsuit at a wedding?” because the right jumpsuit at a wedding can look amazing, even on the bride – is everything that’s wonderful about 21st-century fashion.
Obviously, we shouldn’t abandon it. Merely tweak its abstractions. Let’s find something that has all the chutzpah of a jumpsuit but allows us to pee or experience a menopausal flush with the minimum of fuss and bother. To this end I bring you the Jumpsuit Coord. Less formal than the trouser suit, not as louche as the pyjama suit, the Jumpsuit Coord does everything the jumpsuit original does, but better.
Some of our more enlightened retailers are there already. Clare Hornby, the ultra-practical and amazingly resourceful founder of Me&em introduced haltertops and matching trousers to the Me&em repertoire last year. So why no sleeves? As we all know, an unfathomable number of women hate their arms. But not having sleeves doesn’t actually mean you have to go sleeveless. It merely makes finding something to glide over your coord jumpsuit immeasurably easier. Other brands have them, too: the aforementioned Boden, Mango, Hobbs and Arket, although some Sign up to our fashion newsletter for your weekly slice of the Telegraph’s best fashion content telegraph.co.uk/ fashionnewsletter