A note from Leya
At 67, my daughter told me my favourite cardigan wasn't allowed out of the house
I don't usually write these, and I nearly didn't. But I've found myself saying the same thing to so many women lately that it seemed easier to write it down properly.
It started on a Saturday morning in my own hallway. My daughter had come to take me to the garden centre, and I was pulling my shoes on in the cardigan I wear every single day at home. Grey once, now a sort of tired oatmeal, baggy at the elbows and just short enough that I tug the back of it down every time I bend over. She looked at me and said, very kindly, Mum, that one's not allowed out of the house.
She wasn't wrong. It was the most comfortable thing I owned, and I'd have been mortified if anyone I knew saw me in it. Nobody sets out to own a cardigan like that. It happens because the shops only give us two sorts. There are the cosy ones, which are really dressing gowns with buttons, and there are the smart ones, which look lovely and feel like wearing a filing cabinet. Comfortable or presentable. You pick one in the morning and live with it all day.
You don't stop wanting to be comfortable at our age. You just stop expecting to look like yourself while you are.
Then my daughter sent me a link
She'd been looking on my behalf, which I pretended to mind. It was a long, plain cardigan with no collar and two proper pockets, and on the woman in the photograph it looked like something you'd choose to wear, not something you'd hide in.
It's the Lies cardigan from Susan and Kate London, a British label started by two sisters, which I rather liked before I'd even ordered. The clever part is the length. It comes down well past the hips, so it covers everything I'd rather it covered, and there's no collar to fuss with, so it sits neatly on its own and flat under a coat. I ordered the black that evening.
What happened at the garden centre
The following Saturday I wore it out, over a white top and my usual jeans, and didn't take it off once. Two women asked me where it was from before we'd even reached the bulbs. The third was my neighbour Pat, who has lived next door for nineteen years and never once passed comment on anything I've worn. She said I looked comfortable and smart at the same time, and asked how I'd managed it.
It has barely been off since. Round the house in the morning, out to the shops after lunch, over my shoulders on the bench at the end of the garden with a cup of tea. The same cardigan in all three places, and it looks right in every one of them.
Three things worth knowing
One. The length makes all the difference. A short cardigan rides up every time you bend or reach, and you spend the day tugging the back of it down. This one stays where it is and covers you properly when you sit.
Two. The pockets actually hold things. Phone, glasses, a tissue, the dog's lead. Proper pockets, not the pretend ones you can barely get a finger into.
Three. It goes both ways. Thrown on over leggings at home, it's every bit as cosy as the old one. Over a blouse and good trousers, it looks as though I meant it. My old cardigan only ever managed the first half of that.
About the price
I'll be honest, the price is usually the first thing people ask about.
The Lies is £39.95. It was £80.00.
My first thought was that there had to be a catch, because I've paid more than that on the high street for cardigans that went shapeless by Christmas. There isn't one that I've found. Susan and Kate London sell directly, with no shop in the middle taking a cut, and they have a sale on at the moment. Delivery is free, and I checked before ordering that I could send it back within 30 days if the size was wrong.
I read the reviews first, the way I imagine you're doing now. Just over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.2 stars. Not a suspiciously perfect five, which if anything made me trust it more. Then I ordered a second one in another colour, which my daughter says was greedy. She has already borrowed it twice.
What I'd tell you if we were friends
If you and I were sat in the garden with a pot of tea and you asked me, this is what I'd say.
If you've a cardigan you love wearing but wouldn't dream of answering the door in, it's worth ten minutes of your evening to have a look. Not because a cardigan will change your life. It won't. But being comfortable and still looking like yourself is a small thing I'd quietly given up on, and I'd rather you didn't give up on it too.
The sale is on at the moment, and the middle sizes are always the first to go.
The old one has gone to the charity shop. I haven't missed it once.
Leya
Lies | Longline Lounge Cardigan
£80.00 £39.95
- Longline cut that stays put and covers the hips
- Two practical pockets for everyday bits
- Collarless neckline for a clean, modern look
- Plain design that goes with everything
- Several colours · UK 8 to 16
- Free UK delivery
Sale — while sizes last.
Leya Whitmore is 67 and lives in Guildford with a labrador. She is not a fashion writer.
Susan and Kate London · Free UK delivery · 30 day returns