There is something deeply comforting about returning to a piece of clothing you know by heart. A dress that has danced through seasons with you, softened with age, stitched with memory. That, to me, is the heart of slow fashion. It’s not just about what we wear, it’s about how we live. How we choose. How we notice.
Slow fashion asks us to pause. To be thoughtful. To honour the story behind the seams. It’s the antithesis of the rushed, trend-chasing world that encourages us to discard, replace, and forget. And it starts, for me, in the simple act of reaching for that familiar cotton smock or linen dress that feels more like an old friend than a piece of fabric.
Some of my most-loved pieces were bought years ago from designers I still cherish, like Heart and Daisy, Smock London, Cabbages & Roses. Names that feel like home, that conjure up images of wildflower prints and generous silhouettes, hand-stitched care and heritage charm. Their hems have been muddied in the garden, twirled in the kitchen, caught in the sea breeze on blustery days. They’ve wrapped themselves around birthday mornings and quiet candlelit evenings. They've held babies, birthday cakes, laundry baskets, and sometimes just me - standing still for a moment, weary but content.
These clothes aren’t throwaway fashion. They are wearable memories.
I can still remember the moment I chose each one, usually with a cup of tea beside me and the slow click of the “buy” button not from impulse, but from intention. There is care in the choosing, and even more care in the wearing. They become part of your daily rituals, part of the quiet beauty of ordinary days.
And it matters who we buy from. It matters to know the hands behind the seams, the soul behind the idea. When I support small designers or heritage brands, I feel a deeper connection to what I wear. It’s personal. It’s real. It’s more than a transaction, it’s a relationship. One built on trust, craftsmanship, and values that extend far beyond a changing room.
How I style slow-made fashion
Heart and Daisy is a brand I return to when I want something romantic but lived-in. Their pieces often feature delicate floral prints, drawstring waists, and soft gathers. I pair their dresses with lace-up boots in colder months and a chunky knit layered over top when the days grow shorter. Add a straw hat and a woven basket, and you’re ready for a farmer’s market in summer. These are the dresses I find myself reaching for on slow Sundays, when the house smells like baking and the radio (Classic FM of course) softly hums in the background.
Smock London is pure charm wrapped in cotton. Their silhouettes are loose and generous, made to move with you, not against you. These are the pieces I reach for all the time, for when when I need ease without sacrificing a put-together feeling. Their signature smocking, in sweet pastels and gentle florals, are a joy to wear.
Cabbages & Roses is nostalgia in fabric form. Their designs carry the softness of old England, washed florals, faded linen, and that sense of being wrapped in something your grandmother might’ve worn, in the very best way. I style their pieces with wellington boots and woollen socks in the colder seasons, and espadrilles or flats in summer. A basket slung on your arm, perhaps a thermos of tea tucked inside, and suddenly the countryside feels stitched into your day, even if you’re just stepping out to post a letter. Sadly, Cabbages & Roses are no longer selling their gorgeous clothing, but you can definitely try and find some secondhand (which I encourage!)
Slow-made brands I have my eye on
46 Stitch: this gorgeous brand creates limited edition luxe pieces made from fashion remnants and sustainable yarns. Think colours, patterns and pure joy. I just adore this gingham number!
Má & Lin: think floaty linen pieces perfect for summer and beyond. Plenty of two-pieces and lots of mix and matching.
Pom London: this SW London-based shop curates the pretties slow fashion pieces, like this Katie Dress by Pink City Prints. Just divine.
To love what you wear is not frivolous; it’s an act of presence. A way of saying, I’m here, I see beauty in the everyday, and I choose to honour it.
In a world that spins faster than we can sometimes bear, slow fashion is a gentle rebellion. A small, deliberate act of care. It’s hanging your dress on the line in the sun. It’s mending a hem with quiet hands. It’s wrapping yourself in something that tells your story, not someone else’s version of who you should be.
So here’s to the dresses that last. The ones that know the shape of your life, and hold it with grace.
With love,
Leah xxx
