MY MUM was rarely seen without one.
Adorned with prints ranging from ducks to garden birds, to sheep, to straightforward stripes or simply plain colours, there were few days in the year when she was not wearing an apron.
We would arrive at my parents’ house and she would come to the door, always with an apron on top of her clothes. Aprons, or pinnies as we kids knew them, were her trademark.
She liked her pinnies with an adjustable neck strap and, preferably, pockets at the front for a hanky or two.
Had my mum been here today, she would have been amused at the latest news surrounding this humble workwear garment.
Aprons have emerged as a high-fashion statement. Yes, you heard it right. Evolving from functional workwear into luxury accessories, brands like Miu Miu, Dior, and Hermès have reimagined pinnies as outerwear.
Last October Vogue ran an article entitled Can An Apron Be Fashion? It referenced Paris Fashion Week, where ‘Miuccia Prada sent her models out onto the Miu Miu catwalk clad in a disarming array of aprons: blue workwear, kinky black leather, bejewelled bibs, a selection of dowdy frills and florals fit for Mrs Overall herself.’
A fortnight ago, one of these aprons – a blue pinnie – went on sale in Harrods for £1,470. I’ve seen pictures of it and it looks like…well…a blue pinnie. My mum would have a good laugh at the madness of it, I’m sure.
But if this workwear staple is being celebrated as a fashion statement, my husband needs to know. As anyone who visits our house will know, he’s often to be seen in an apron. He’s a got a healthy collection – two drawers full, in fact. His favourites are his Suffolk pinnie, showing county scenes from his favourite part of England, his green striped apron and a special apron handmade for him by our neighbour Maggie, with the letters A and H – for Andrew and Helen – sewn onto the pockets. He loves that one.
My husband in one of his aprons (Image: NQ)
Every evening when he arrives home from work, on goes an apron. There’s a hook on the back of the kitchen door especially for his aprons. You could say that his aprons, with their many spots and stains, are proof that he does 99 per cent of the cooking. I am ashamed to admit that the last time I wore an apron was in home economics class at school.
My husband is no follower of fashion, but he was pleased to learn that he’s now at the height of it. So long as he avoids the kinky black leather it’s all right by me.
I showed him an Instagram post, by fashion brand Lyst. It was captioned: Aprons aren’t just for the kitchen.
It said: ‘The apron has long been one of fashion’s most quietly powerful garments, functional, genderless, and deeply symbolic.’
It went on: ‘Beyond its purpose, the apron has always toyed with duality. From glossy latex reinterpretations to nostalgic cotton layers, it transforms a humble workwear staple into an object of desire.’
He wasn’t buying it. To him, a pinnie is simply a means of keeping spits of cooking oil or splats of curry off his clothes while he’s cooking. I’m relieved to hear it. I don’t want any kinky black leather pinnies in my house.
Aprons are, of course, utilitarian – whether cooking, cleaning, or spinning a potter’s wheel, they serve a purpose. But they can also be very special garments, with great sentimental value. After my mum died I asked my youngest daughter if there was anything of her grandma’s that she would like to keep. “One of her aprons,” came her reply. And when I think of Mum, it’s always in an apron.
