Hands up who remembers the summer of love. No, not ’67 or even ’88. I’m talking about summer 2004, when Sienna Miller was parading Jude Law around like a new Mulberry Roxanne, and Kate Moss turned 30 and went to Glastonbury, but hadn’t yet met Pete Doherty.
Those heady, Moscow mule-infused days of chunky belts, feather earrings and gladiator sandals caused a run on anything even remotely Laurel Canyon or Moroccan in flavour along the high street and changed the meaning of the word “bohemian” for ever. Once the preserve of the art crowd, flaneurs and the underemployed, boho was now something you bought from Topshop.
£130, Sézane
Why bring this up now? Because this summer — as many of us scratch out a living from our
