It is quite useless to attempt to describe the spring fashions without starting from Jersey. It has ceased to be a novelty. It has become a standard fabric. Those aren’t my words; they’re from The New York Times, April 1917. And they play right into the hands of those who argue that there’s been nothing new in fashion since 1964. With one salient difference, which is that where one detects a certain sorrowfulness in the New York Times fashion critic at the inexorable ubiquity of jersey and the way it makes the wearer feel partially undressed, 90 years on, this fashion critic is rather thrilled about the jersey options this spring (even some of those trousers). If you ask me, making a woman feel partially undressed (ie, unencumbered by heavy fabric and constricting corsets) without leaving her looking like a total slut or a complete schlump is a big part of fashion’s evolution.

Mind you, I can see it’s not everyone’s definition of achievement. Plenty of women still love to wear constricting clothes – from choice. Maybe they were swaddled as babies. Perhaps they weren’t swaddled. Maybe a corset gives them the sensation of being held. Maybe they’re agoraphobes. Or – sorry to be prosaic – could it be that wearing something tight and suctioned just makes some women feel thinner? Whatever the psychology, any woman who regularly wears a Roland Mouret-esque dress likes to feel bound. Women who wear jersey, on the other hand, are looking for a different kind of sensation, one that has to do with a more neutral equilibrium.

There’s no right or wrong here. Constructed (and constricted) or slouchy can be equally alluring, feminine and sleek. They can also be combined. Jersey has come a long way since it was the preserve of men’s underwear. Already by 1917, Chanel had taken it into her head, as the New York Times fashion editor put it, to embroider jersey with gold and silver, and women were wearing fur-trimmed jersey cloaks and evening gowns, which seems fabulously contemporary in its high-low mix. New York Times fashion ed isn’t entirely convinced, but there was a war on, and jersey, in its “almost unlimited range of grays and beiges” (plus ça change), struck the right penitential note.

So here we are, not exactly in a war, but casting around for clothes that feel right, as opposed to simply looking right. Bang on cue, jersey’s having a major moment. You don’t even have to spend a fortune at Rick Owens, the genius of jersey (above left) and, in a weird way, a direct heir to Chanel, to experience the benefits. All Saints is rammed with affordable jersey tops, dresses, waistcoats. Zara’s done a blazer and there are drape-able, twistable, belt-able jersey pieces throughout the high street. What’s bad is that low-grade jersey bobbles

in five seconds, hangs like a carrier bag and makes all who wear it look like Jeremy Clarkson dressed as Germaine Greer. What’s great is that mixed with sparkly jewels, jersey gives off a lovely, low-key, effortless dressiness. It worked in 1917 and it works now.

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