For those of us who turned to the outside world to get us through the first lockdown, the winter presents a new set of challenges. Richard Adams sums it up well in his famous novel Watership Down: “Many human beings say that they enjoy the winter, but what they really enjoy is feeling proof against it.” There are months still to go until we start to see the blossom and new leaves that delighted so many of us on our initial lockdown walks in spring last year. When we venture out of our houses in mid-January, bundled up against the cold, we’re likely to see bare branches against a grey sky, and mud. So much mud. With the last of the autumn’s crop of berries being devoured by hungry birds, a winter landscape can seem devoid of colour.
With all this in mind, it’s not surprising that Britain’s favourite bird is the robin. When you hear a burst of birdsong, and see a flash of the robin’s red breast, a dormant landscape is brought suddenly to life. Robins have graced festive greetings cards for over a century, and have inspired numerous Yuletide decorations. It’s a bird many of us can recognise, and most of us will get to see, even if we live in urban areas. Leaving my house before dawn on some of the shortest days of the year and hearing a robin singing in the darkness feels like a little spark of magic, putting a spring in my step and making me aware of my surroundings in a way that feels full of possibility. Nevermind that it’s the same old street, the same old seven minutes to the station. If I’ve heard such a beautiful song, what else might I hear? Or see?
With the robin as my quintessential Winter Bird, the piece of clothing I wanted to make was something quintessentially Winter 2020/21. Something that would add a splash of colour to long dreary locked-down days, something comfy and cosy that would also have an element of fun to it, that would make me want to get up and get dressed, even if what I was putting on was a fancier version of my pre-existing pyjamas.
The Robin lounge suit was made from two and a half metres of brushed cotton, dark red with a blue and green floral print, from my found fabrics stash. The wide leg trousers have an elasticated waist (perfect for solitary winter feasts) but are inspired by 1930s palazzo pants - designed for looking glamourous while relaxing of an afternoon. The matching top has a voluminous hood, inspired by binge-watching costume dramas (ideal for keeping really snug when snow is forecast), and sleeves that suggest a desire to maintain social distancing at all times. I liked the idea of the proportions of the outfit being slightly absurd; for all I’ve waxed lyrical about the beauty of the robin’s song, it’s either a threat or a dating profile if you’re another robin. I enjoy that sense of strangeness when I am interpreting the natural world into a man-made creation; the idea that something might have got lost in translation. For the Robin lounge suit, I’ve combined elements of elegant leisurewear and essential winter clothing from the past with clashing modern colours and an exaggerated silhouette to recreate that winter lockdown essential - the tracksuit - with a twist.
This winter might feel like a time where our plans, our hopes, our dreams, are once again lying as dormant as the natural world outside. But we can ignite a sense of hope through something as simple as wearing something that feels good and makes us smile.
