There are many questions to grapple with when considering what to wear at Christmas. Some people dress for Christmas Day as they would for a cocktail party, in smart frocks and sparkly earrings, while others consider sacrosanct the choice of spending the day in elasticated-waist comfies, the better to accommodate the eating of one’s body weight in mince pies. Some people wear chic black velvet; others love nothing more than donning a novelty jumper with squeaky antlers. Some families wear matching Christmas pyjamas all day; some change into black tie for dinner.
But this is secondary to one consideration that trumps all others. And that is: who’s doing the cooking?
Cooking can dominate your Christmas. The prep and rigmarole of big birds and steamed puddings and all the rest of it dictate the timings of your whole day. More so, logically, than it needs to, somehow, but that’s Christmas. Every year I tell myself it’s just a roast dinner with a few extras, no biggie, and still every year I turn into Mrs Patmore in Downton Abbey, crashing saucepans around and muttering to myself about goose fat.
What does the cook wear on Christmas Day? Trailing sleeves, pussy-bow blouses and things with ribbony bits are off the menu, being fire hazards. Pairing silk blouses with gravy is asking for trouble. The kitchen will be much warmer than the rest of the house, so cashmere will be too hot.
But none of this should mean that you can’t wear something fabulous. We cooks like to sigh about how much work Christmas is, but we adore every minute. Anyone who loves to cook loves Christmas. Christmas is the time when home cooking is celebrated and ritualised, when lunch at the table with family becomes an, extravagant, theatrical moment, to be toasted, photographed and remembered. It is a labour of love – and we bloody love it. So I firmly believe the cook should feel like the belle of the ball on Christmas Day.
I am therefore nothing less than delighted by the rise of the fashionable apron. Aprons have shaken off their below-stairs, Cinderella vibe and become chic. The Mimi Thorisson for Anthropologie Italian Hours jacquard cotton apron (pictured above) is an elegant and unfussy accessory to your outfit. The Hosting Apron by Our Place has a high halterneck that is party-dress pretty and protects whatever you are wearing underneath. The matt, slub-weave cotton comes in muted colours that work with the modern cook’s wardrobe.
Our Place is a kitchenware brand with a modern attitude – the pans are designed for multicultural cooking traditions – for flatbreads, ramen, curries and tacos, rather than assuming we are all reading Escoffier – and founder Shiza Shahid had a hunch that the contemporary cook who was buying her pans needed a modern apron.
Even more elevated is a metallic bistro apron designed by New York-based chef and artist Laila Gohar: in glossy silver embroidered with white lace hands on the belt, it’s really more party skirt than workwear. Gohar’s apron costs £135, which is extremely punchy for an apron, but I can’t stop looking at it, mainly because Gohar is the coolest woman in the entire world.
But aprons are not for everyone, and chic for cooks can come in many forms. One of my most successful cooking-and-hosting outfits is, unexpectedly, a full-length dress by Needle & Thread. Mine is grey – I’ve had it for years – but its Tempest bodice dress is similar – comfortable, lightweight, with sparkly bits to draw the eye away from the odd sauce splash.
A pretty cardigan is a good option – layer a simple vest underneath so you can unbutton it in the heat of battle. If you have managed to bag the gorgeous diamante-buttoned pink mohair number from the H&M x Rabanne collaboration, a Christmas matinee-hour appearance would be perfect. You can be the one doing the cooking – and still look good enough to eat.
Styling: Melanie Wilkinson. Hair and makeup: Sophie Higginson using Bumble & bumble and Dermalogica. Jumper and trousers, Whistles. Earrings and necklace, both Maanesten. Model: Marie at Milk
