WEARING WELL

Stories of the clothes we love GINGHAM

Gingham always reminds me of my summer school uniform: the summer school uniform I never wore. A gingham buttoned dress was the official summer dress, but the unofficial sartorial code dictated what we should wear for summer were the skirts we’d worn all winter. Sunnier days were spent with heavy, pleated skirts hoiked up as high as we could get away with, rather than enjoying the easy, light benefits of gingham. But if I could rifle through the wardrobe of the unofficial fashion arbiters today, things might look a bit different – a flick through Instagram or a mooch around the shops reveals that I’m not the only one with a bit of a gingham infatuation.

In a world still reeling after the last 18 months, it’s not so surprising we’re craving it right now. Gingham has been around in Britain since the

17th century, but its popularity peaks following periods of instability: after the Second World War, the late 1960s, and following the financial crash in 2008. It’s a fabric of comfort: Dorothy’s apron in The Wizard of Oz, happy days sprawled on a picnic blanket, the crisp checkered tablecloth at a French bistro, lingering long after the meal is over.

But gingham has another side, too. Turns out it’s also a fabric of entrepreneurship. There’s Nelly Donnelly who, in Kansas in 1916, designed a pink gingham housedress – suitable for household chores but respectable enough to be seen running errands in. She persuaded a local department store to trial her designs – 216 gingham dresses, priced at $1 each, sold out in under a week. Or there’s Barbara Hulanicki in 1964, and her mail order pink gingham dress, with an accompanying headscarf. She sold 17,000 and, a few months later, opened Biba’s first physical store. I wish I’d known about these women when I was still too timid to don my gingham.

Likewise, it’s the smaller brands that I stumble across on Instagram that – like Nelly and Barbara – seem to have tapped into the mood of the moment, whether that’s Epoch’s checked rugs, Vaiselle’s ceramics, or my current craving, the oversized gingham dresses made by New York brand April Meets October, which are definitely more grown up than schoolgirl. With these entrepreneurs, who are building and maintaining businesses against the odds, perhaps gingham’s current popularity isn’t just about the summer comfort, but also a sign of something shifting… Now there’s something to mull in your checked dress, while relaxing on a picnic blanket.

“It’s a fabric of comfort: Dorothy’s apron; happy days on picnic blankets”