Times 2 - UK (2020-08-05)

the times | Wednesday August 5 2020 1GT 7

fashion

ARTHUR ELGORT/GETTY IMAGES; ALAMY

back — and it fits

time it was exclusively New York-

based. It also had the potential — if

you got it right, and if the 1988 film

Working Girl were to be believed — to

guarantee your transformation from

ugly trainer-wearing duckling into

suit-clad swan. Sure, I guessed you had

to do stuff well while you were thus

garbed, but that seemed secondary

to the clothes you did said stuff in.

That’s why one of the first things I

bought when I started working in an

office was a bodysuit. Sleek it was, but

also, I quickly discovered, excruciating.

The best kind of knicker gusset is a

benign caress. The bodysuit gusset,

or at least the 1980s incarnation, was

the slingshot to your pubic projectile.

Above the line my bodysuit may

have helped me to parse like

Sigourney Weaver’s Katharine

Parker. Below the line — my line —

it felt like Borat’s mankini.

Let’s just, and my choice of words

here is deliberate, drill down into

this for a minute. This was a key

moment in the empowerment and

advancement of women, and the

semantics of power dressing were

plain. If a man’s suit was, in its origins,

conceived to exaggerate an ideal of

male physicality, the broad shoulders

and narrow hips, a woman’s suit of

the era was designed to make her look

like a version of a man. To fit in. To

fight. To win.

So what was in play when it came

to an item of clothing that could hurt,

even hobble? At the very least that

bodysuit of yore required you to spend

longer going to the loo than would

otherwise be necessary, and thus miss

more of that important

meeting. Go figure, as Tess

McGill might say. This was

a low trick. Literally, for

those of us who suffered

as a result.

So what’s the present

reincarnation about? I asked

Kay Barron, who, as well as

being the fashion director

of net-a-porter.com, is in

possession of seven — yes,

seven — bodysuits. Point one

is that it’s flattering. “I am a

jeans-and-a-top kind of girl.

It’s my go-to combination for

everything. So any top that

offers a neat, flattering line,

retains its shape perfectly all

day, and doesn’t peek out over

a waistband is a win for me.

There’s also no excess fabric

that comes from tucking it.” If

you too are a jeans-and-a-top kind

of girl — and who isn’t, at least some

of the time? — this may be advice

worth heeding.

Point two, and Barron is unwavering

on this, is that the bodysuit 2.0 is

comfortable, provided that you buy

the right brand (she rates Alix NYC,

Wolford and Commando) and ensure

that the fit is right. “Too short in the

body and it will cut into you. Too long

in the body and it will gather loosely

at the gusset. Treat it like lingerie. It

should have the same fit as your most

flattering knickers, and you should feel

the same way in it.” One more fit

check. “Make sure it doesn’t create any

indentations that will be visible

through fitted denim or a

body-skimming skirt.”

What about the Lipa look? I am

pleased to hear that Barron — one

of my markers for adult-appropriate

cool — is not a fan. “I’m not really

encouraging that. If you wouldn’t do

that with your pants, don’t do that

with a bodysuit!” Brava!

Barron’s final piece of advice? “Just

try one.” So I do. It’s from Alix NYC,

a brand specifically created by the

designer Alexandra Alvarez to deliver

what she calls “a tucked-in finish”. I go

for the plain white sleeveless Lenox,

with — the better to bore into the

truth, or not, of the post-Borat

argument — a thong bottom half

(£110, net-a-porter.com).

I can report that it was comfortable.

I can also report that it did indeed

transform the white-tee-and-jeans

equation into something more glossy

looking. In short, dear reader, I liked it.

Above and below the line.

Instagram: @timesfashiondesk

No, you’re not too old

to wear an anklet

I

t’s a slow business, but ageism

in fashion is on the wane. The

original supermodels are in their

fifties, J Lo — in better shape than

most of us will ever be at any age

— performed in a catsuit at the Super

Bowl aged 50, proving you’re never too

old to wear anything, and “mutton” is

slowly reverting to being a delicious

ingredient for stews or curries.

However, I must admit that I have

my own invisible line in the style sand

— one I hold only myself to, if that

makes it any better. In no particular

order, I think I am too old for: hair

bunches, Alice bands, heavily branded

trainers and rara skirts. And: anklets.

Well, lock me up, guv’nor. I am

presently gilded of ankle. And I’m

not the only one. The fashion

search engine Lyst recorded a

58 per cent increase in searches

for them over the past three

months. And it’s a we-know-we-

shouldn’t-but-we-will-anyway

double whammy, since wearing an

anklet is not considered quite nice.

Anklets are mentioned in the Bible,

you know. Specifically, in reference

to some “haughty” women “glancing

wantonly with their eyes” and

“mincing along as they go, tinkling

with their feet”.

There’s a frisson to indulging in

something that you’re repeatedly

told you mustn’t. And worn with an

otherwise “safe” outfit — your floral

dress and white trainers, jeans +

Breton top or even a trouser suit —

the anklet shakes up the staid. It is,

actually, Samantha Cameron’s dolphin

ankle tattoo in jewellery form; the

suggestion of another side to the

woman wearing the pinstriped dress.

As for why now? Well, the addition

of facemasks to our wardrobes has

thrown a spanner in the jewellery

works. The big earrings that brushed

shoulders on Zoom calls now get stuck

in your over-ear elastics, and that

other break from conventionality,

the up-the-ear stack of hoops or

studs, is barely visible. We need some

other way to signal that while we

might at the present time just be

reading the nutritional information

on the side of a carton of oat milk,

on the inside we are rebels.

So, for the means of said rebellion:

Missoma, one of the three most

viewed brands on Lyst (alongside

Alighieri and Anissa Kermiche) for

anklets, has dainty chains in silver or

gold from £35 (missoma.com) and had

a 71 per cent uplift in sales of them

during lockdown. Mateo’s 14-carat gold

(£370, net-a-porter.com) is so wafer

thin as to be invisible from a distance

were it not for the freshwater pearls

hanging from it. Anissa Kermiche’s

pearls are chunkier (£185,

anissakermiche.com) and if

you want to go all out,

Ancient Greek Sandals’s

iterations (ancient-

greek-sandals.com)

are trimmed with

gold coins that

jangle happily as

you walk — or rather,

as our biblical style

muses would have it,

tinkle while you mince.

Twitter: @timesfashion

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Above:

fashion

director

Lisa

Aiken.

Right:

on the

streets

of Paris

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TTTTwitter: @tim

Anklets

signal that

on the

inside we

are rebels

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I e o r d a T

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On the

streets of

Milan

£19.

(mango.com).

Left: the model

Stephanie Seymour,

Vogue 1987. Right:

Rosie Huntington-

Whiteley. Below:

Jamie Lee Curtis

By Charlie

Gowans-Eglinton