A note from Leya
At 67, I realised the only smart jacket I owned was the black one I keep for funerals
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.
At the start of the month, an invitation arrived for my friend Hilary's seventieth. A proper lunch at a hotel, with a seating plan. That evening I stood in front of the wardrobe and went through it hanger by hanger. Cardigans, fleeces, a few good blouses, and one smart jacket. Black, a bit stiff, and bought years ago for a funeral. It has been to every funeral since, and nowhere else.
I realised I'd stopped buying anything smart at all. It isn't that I don't go anywhere. It's that the shops give us two choices. There's smart, which means black, stiff and made for offices I retired from years ago. And there's comfortable, which means another cardigan. Smart or comfortable. At our age, most of us quietly pick comfortable and keep one black jacket for sad occasions.
I didn't want to turn up to a seventieth birthday looking as though I'd come to read the eulogy.
Then my daughter-in-law found one on her phone
She was over for Sunday tea, and I made the mistake of mentioning the black jacket. She laughed, then got her phone out and scrolled for a minute. She showed me a blazer with a neat, fitted shape and a contrasting trim running round the lapels, the pocket and the cuffs. My first thought was that it looked too fashionable for me. Then I looked again. It wasn't loud at all. It just looked finished, the way good clothes do.
It's the Zara blazer from Susan and Kate London, a British label started by two sisters. The shape is gently fitted, so it looks smart without feeling like armour, and the coloured trim gives it a bit of character that a plain blazer never has. Four buttons down the front, so it can be worn open or done up. I ordered the brown that evening, before I could talk myself out of it.
What Hilary said at her birthday lunch
I wore it to the lunch over a plain cream blouse and my good trousers. Hilary spotted me across the room, came straight over and said, Leya, you look like you've come to celebrate for once. Two of her old colleagues asked where it was from before the starters had even arrived, and one of them wrote the name down on the back of her place card.
It has hardly been back in the wardrobe since. Church on Sunday, a matinee in town with my sister, and supper at my son's with a pair of jeans. It looks right in all three places, and I've stopped feeling underdressed for my own life.
Three things worth knowing
One. The trim does all the work. The contrasting edging runs round the lapels, the pocket and the cuffs. From across a room it just reads as a well-made jacket, and close up it's the detail everyone asks about.
Two. It's fitted, not stiff. The shape is structured enough to look smart, but it doesn't pull across the back or pinch at the arms when I reach for my bag. It's the first smart jacket I've owned that I forget I'm wearing.
Three. It goes both ways. Buttoned over a blouse, it's smart enough for a hotel lunch. Open over a plain top and jeans, it looks relaxed. One jacket now does the job that three used to.
About the price
I'll be honest, the price is usually the first thing people ask about.
The Zara is £39.95. It was £135.00.
My first thought was that there had to be a catch, because I've paid more than that for a hat for a wedding. 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. It comes in five colours, and my sister has already asked if she can borrow the brown.
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.
Go and look in your wardrobe for the smartest jacket you own. If it's the one you keep for funerals, and you can't remember the last time you wore something smart to a happy occasion, it's worth ten minutes of your evening to have a look. Not because a blazer will change your life. It won't. But dressing up for good things is a small pleasure 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 black jacket is still in the wardrobe. It's just not the only smart thing in there any more.
Leya
Zara | Blazer for Woman
£135.00 £39.95
- Contrasting trim on the lapels, pocket and cuffs
- Gently fitted, structured shape
- Four-button front, worn open or closed
- Five colours · UK 8 to 18
- 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