Welcome to my first column for Fashion Quarterly. Having written and reported on fashion for the past 20 years, I’ve seen just about everything come and go. Trends, scandals, closures, openings, aesthetics, entire careers built on things once declared ‘over’ — an ever-evolving puzzle that now provides me with the thing that helps provide not only context, but perspective.
So, when I was tasked with filing my first column, my mind drifted to a line from the recent cinematic masterpiece that is The Devil Wears Prada 2. When Andy Sachs casually declares she used to write about “more important stuff” — referring, of course, to the kind of journalism she practiced before fashion, at a publication modelled after serious newsrooms with serious stories and serious integrity — I was triggered.
Sure, there’s room for hard news. There must be. Having spent the last decade sitting in an actual newsroom, I became intimately familiar with the strange ecosystem that exists between lifestyle desks and investigative reporting: a slightly wonky equilibrium where one side is breaking stories on political upheaval while the other is equating economic downturns to hemline lengths. To me those were just as valuable conversations around identity and culture as anything else.
Last night, lying awake in the small hours, my brain cycled through the usual thoughts on repeat lately. Politics, climate disaster, elections, economic instability, the slow collapse of collective optimism. But then another intrusive thought entered my brain: If I were a sweater, what sweater would I be?
You can spend all day consuming stories about the state of the world, but eventually the brain seeks reprieve. It wanders toward the seemingly frivolous, the joyful, the absurdly specific. Not because these things are less meaningful, but because they are part of how we metabolize being alive. That, to me, is precisely the point.
So, my brain wanders to jumpers.
Knitwear has always played an important part of my winter wardrobe, and as you’ll discover throughout the pages of this issue, it’s an essential part of our national sartorial DNA. A parade of askew knits from Wynn Hamlyn (RIP for now) provides me with plenty of easy solutions to staying warm and still projecting the dark sense of humour that lies beneath. So, what type of sweater resonates with you right now.
For this pseudo-personality test, perhaps you’re drawn to a chunky knit — something enveloping and reassuringly substantial. Think a handcrafted jumper or vest from Natalie Robb of Āhuru Knitwear, whose collection of one-off wonders, made with love by a community of makers in Te Māhia, is a timely reminder of the dependability of our cottage industries to see us through the psychological and literal depths of winter.
There is, however, a slightly controlling element to the chunky knit. It is, after all, the main event in any outfit formula — less supporting act, more headline act — making it the perfect garment for those wanting to signal they are very much in large and in charge.
Or perhaps you possess a mild superiority complex and find comfort in the quiet authority of a shrunken cashmere cardigan. This is knitwear for those committed to the art of controlled presentation: polished on the surface, but paddling furiously underneath like a swan with a Google Calendar. It’s the uniform of someone who likes to appear effortlessly composed while privately running an internal operations centre. There are elegant options from local brands such as Juliette Hogan, Untouched World, Elle & Riley, and Laing Home.
If it’s something with a bit more of an artful bent, the timely collaboration between friends Glen Prentice, head designer and design custodian of knitwear stalwart Standard Issue, and Georgia Pratt Holiber, model, Hilda Ereaut designer, and former FQ cover star, evokes a slightly intellectual spirit that suggests the wearer has an eye for detail and a well-used bookshelf. Not loud enough to be performative, but distinct enough to emit good taste. A sweater here isn’t just about warmth; it’s a wearable extension of one’s internal mood board — creative but aloof. You might find something in this ilk from the likes of Kowtow and twenty-seven names’ brand of intellectual whimsy — what’s not to love about a sweater vest emblazoned with the slogan ‘No Regrets’?
One of my favourite sweater personalities right now is the knitwear of irreverence. The cable knit sweater rendered in electric green or a nautical theme turned on its head. I recently pre-ordered the boxy knitted ‘Swann’ sweater from Ruby, made from a navy stripe merino wool. Featuring an oversized collar and detachable necktie, it’s the kind of silly sweater that I’d wear with a pair of jeans and loafers for a fail-safe winter wardrobe formula that doesn’t require too much thought. It’s slightly unserious, and I suppose that’s the entire premise behind this column and what I love about fashion.
That it’s entirely fine to subscribe to The Economist while referring to watching reality TV as cultural research. The same goes with clothes. Especially knitwear.
Whether you identify as a controlling chunky knit, an emotionally repressed cashmere cardigan, or a slightly unserious cable knit in an impractical colour, the point is that none of this is superficial. At least for me, clothes have always been cultural shorthand. It’s a way of locating ourselves within the chaos, one layer at a time.
As Andy Sachs learned, even the humble cerulean sweater is never just a sweater. It’s about the downstream effect of taste, commerce, aspiration, ego, and a surprisingly aggressive number of meetings. Which is to say: perhaps this is important stuff after all.
This article originally appeared in Fashion Quarterly‘s winter 2026 issue – on sale June 15th.
Imagery: Supplied.
