Moodboard: Wonderful Winter White

Take inspiration from Pantone’s Colour of The Year …

A soul sister from way back when (darlin’ girl) who, like many of us, struggles with weight and body image issues, has begun wearing white after a lifetime sporting slimming black. By lifetime we mean a New York minute, so quickly have the years flown by, fleeting as the hours of daylight in the dead of midwinter. Winter light, muted and shadowy, keeps us on a promise, coaxing us through January’s dull drear. The countdown until the clock springs forward is 88 dark days or so, according to our internal Alexa. What is there to do until then, or, more important, what is there to wear? Note to self: onesies are not an option.

On the rack, black is black, a colour defined by the absence of light. Mourning chic (traditional grieving attire in Western cultures) can be a comfort into which we disappear, putting the hiberno into hibernation. A transplanted Canadian erstwhile friend constantly on the lookout for the perfect funeral outfit (a wildly social, boozy, life-affirming occasion on this isle) is always at the ready to mingle with mourners in Tom Ford skinny cigarette pants, tailored black blazer and Hermès Birkin. But consider adopting the tradition of many Eastern cultures and wear white to the next Irish wake, symbolising purity, peace and hope of an afterlife. Why not call in spring’s rebirth and wear pristine white through winter’s tough third trimester?

“Her face at first just ghostly, then turned a whiter shade of pale.” Procol Harem

If you harbour doubts about wearing head-to-toe winter white (in shades of ivory, cream, parchment and oyster), consider the polar bear. What colour is its fur? Not white, a commonly held belief, but rather translucent, the result of an optical illusion kicking in, a reaction between the fur’s transparent air-filled hollow core (made of a protein called keratin) with light-scattering particles inside, which, when hit by rays of sunlight, creates a luminescence, reflecting visible light much like snow does, helping to camouflage polar bears within the Arctic whiteout – is that a snowdrift or a burly bear? Oh, and did you know that a polar bear’s skin is actually jet black? The better to retain whatever sun’s warmth manages to pass through their transparent, hollow fur. Practical and chic.

When you’re dealt a bad hand, play a strong suit, preferably a louche, oversized ivory wool and silk double-breasted blazer with low-rise, wide-legged trousers. Wearing white during the dark, damp, grey days and nights of the Irish winter soul is the sartorial equivalent of becoming a contestant on Strictly Come Dancing: when and if the fleet-footed gods of paso doble summon you to some glittering ballroom floor, you somehow rise to the occasion and march (in champagne satin, rhinestone-studded, peep-toe, leather-soled heels) to the beat of a different (white-clad) drummer; you won’t know yourself, you luminescent angel, you!

In January, if you must wear black, punctuate it with a glittery brooch or six; it’s what lapels live and die for. Otherwise, try tonal dressing, say eggshell, vanilla, oatmeal and clotted cream (sounds delish) in cosy cold weather fabrics like wool, cashmere and denim. Layer chunky knits over high-waisted palazzos and under a belted, fluffy faux fur picked up in the sales. Make like a polar bear and wear black silk undergarments from the likes of Susan Hunter Lingerie, because you may get lucky and catch some heat. @susanzelouf