Dear linen, just like clockwork you’ve come back into my life. Every year, as the weather gets warmer, you’re suddenly all over my socials, you’re in my inbox and everyone’s wearing you.
You thrive at this time of year and you know it. There was a time when you were only popular among hipsters and homewares but you've had a glow-up in recent years. Now, you’re easily the best summer layer: a flowy top, a button-up shirt, a scarf if you please.
But when it comes to trousers and dresses, that's when you get difficult. On the hanger you’re pristine, giving vibes of California beaches and resort life. But the moment you’re on, you wrinkle.
I sit down once and you act out, looking like an accordion for the rest of the day. Every. Single. Time. It's almost as if you don’t want to be seen in public with me. Past 12pm, all I can do is hope no one takes a photo of us together.
And yet I still come back. I give you a hand wash or bring you to the dry cleaner (the last time I machine-washed you, you made sure I'd regret it) and then I'm fooled again by your lightness, your ability to turn any outfit into a certified summer vibe.
You know what I found out recently? You're not always great for the Earth. Originally you were the most sustainable fabric but when you're mass-produced to be on the more affordable end – the non-organic, non-natural side – the truth is that you might be made with harmful pesticides and nitrates that can harm our ecosystems.
That means that when I want you, I need to invest. That's not a bad thing I suppose, because who doesn't want good value? Maybe if I up my standards you won't wrinkle as much. Well, you will, but I'll take what I can get. And when I'm wearing my denim or cotton or faux leather instead, I'll make sure you're on display in my wardrobe so I can admire you first thing in the morning.
shop 5 products