How to wear the colour of the season
But how and where do you wear them? Our fashion editors accept the challenge
Given that it’s essentially a refraction of light particles, purple comes with a lot of baggage. Whoopi, Oprah, Prince, the Suffragettes and sundry Popes love it. I, on the other hand, feel queasy (I’m not exaggerating) when I see it.
It has regal connotations that stretch way back to the Byzantine era, which can in turn, probably be traced back to the Roman judiciary who made it their uniform of choice. Projecting forwards, into our wardrobes, shades of purple were also on the catwalk.
I still don’t like it.
When I was 18 I went through a purple patch, literally. Working on the assumption that all of the most stylish people in the world (I only knew of two at that point, Coco Chanel and Tom Wolfe) had confined themselves to monochrome palettes, I unaccountably decided to make purple (and lilac, mauve etc) my go-to. Everything. Shoes, tops, skirts. I still don’t really understand why. There are no clergy in the family. I can’t remember purple even being much of a thing back then. Thank God there was no social media to record the pile-up.
I haven’t worn purple since. And it doesn’t stop with queasy. There’s perspiration, palpitations, a tendency to lip curl… so why am I wearing this jacket? It was the only thing left on the studio rail.
Yet I have to admit, I don’t mind the effect. It’s what you might call “bold” with a red lip (in a Joan Collins way), good with navy and black and really sharp and crisp with white.
Actually, so good with white, as I discovered on this shoot, that I could be persuaded.
There’s a playfulness to it that makes a basic combination like this one – trousers, kitten heels and a T-shirt – seem quite fresh. That’s useful, especially when you’re trying to strike the right note of authority (maybe those judges and popes were on to something). It also lifts the mood. Purple is a darkish shade, but it’s not too serious.
Ultimately it comes down to fabric. Purple leather, which this jacket is, feels quite T-rex to me and also, I’m not buying leather clothes ever again. But I love the cut and the contrasting buttons.
As for the lilac corduroy jacket below, which reflects light in a much softer way, now you’re talking. It’s properly tempting as a summer throw-on.
What’s interesting about purple is the spectrum. Now I think about it, that’s probably why I singled it out, aged 18. Navy or black would obviously have been far more chic, but not nearly as much fun.
With purple, you also get lilac (an alternative to pink and surprisingly good with brown, yellow and khaki), lavender and mauve.
None of these comes without its own challenges. Lilac can look sickly. Lavender a bit ashy.
Mauve can be a bit deadly too, on account of the stolid amounts of grey in it. That’s probably why it became so popular with Victorians, after a chemist working on a cure for malaria noticed the pretty chemical residue in his test tubes. The first aniline (synthetic) mauve dye was born in 1856, enabling mauve to go mass, at least as a mourning colour (Victorians took mourning very seriously).
So as I said, there’s baggage. Pomp, swagger, death and even class, as I discovered years ago, when I worked with someone who took Nancy Mitford’s edicts on U and Non-u seriously. “You look pretty,” she sniffed at my lilac cardigan. “How clever, given what a common colour that can be.”
And you wonder why I’m cautious.
Krissy Turner Dress code: office appropriate
I love lilac. I’m not big on wearing pink so I see this as the cooler, lesser-spotted alternative. I’m particular, though: I steer clear of darker purples like aubergine, and grey-purple tones like mauve and lavender as they wash me out, so this pretty pastel version is all you’ll catch me in.
Come spring, it’s my go-to along with lemon – controversial among my colleagues – as those tend to be the pastels everyone else steers well clear of.
I rarely do head-to-toe colour, so even though I’ve worn these as a suit here, they actually aren’t even a matching set, and in real life, I’m more likely to sport them as separates.
The silk Joseph trousers would look great with grey cashmere and white trainers, and I’d wear the Tibi blazer with blue denim, a navy polo neck and white mules.
To show office-face, tailoring is a nice way to sharpen up such a sweet hue. Lilac also looks great with black and white, so you can pair it with your usual go-to accessories so that its transition into your new season wardrobe is seamless.
I have developed something of a reputation as The Telegraph fashion desk’s resident royal expert (some say obsessive, but I’m going with expert). If you need some nerdy analysis of the Duchess of Cambridge/sussex’s latest look and what it may mean, then I am your woman. But never have I actually succumbed to the Kate/meghan effect myself. Until last week that is, when just as we were planning this feature about how purple is the colour du jour, the Duchess of Cambridge arrived for a visit to a children’s centre wearing an outfit which hinted that she’s a) been reading these fashion pages and/or b) been paying attention to the catwalk shows.
In her Gucci pussy-bow blouse and carrying a pale lilac Aspinal bag, Kate nailed the current violet mood. The Duchess was actually an early adopter, pulling a lilac Emilia Wickstead dress out of her wardrobe last autumn just as the look was taking hold.
And so it was that I was quickly dispatched to see if Kate’s latest take might work for anything other than a charity visit. And I really think it would. Pussy-bow blouses are big fashion news, but it can be tricky to stop them looking twee. So the Duchess’s solution to tuck it into widelegged tailored trousers not only makes it workappropriate but nods to a chic Seventies vibe.
Ever since my mother told me that purple washed me out, I’ve diligently avoided the shade, but this Kitri number (now on sale, hurray!) could coax me back into the fold. I’m not sure that the full Kate look is for me, but this blouse with a pair of jeans and loafers is my ideal spring outfit.