The hangovers of lockdown are easy to spot. Hand sani pumps at every till; judgy, wide-eyed glances when you breathe too much, a cockapoo on every corner. And sartorially, we’ve let ourselves go. Stretchy and/or loose fabrics still reign, the suit is dying (or perhaps just evolving), and ‘smart’ shoes are out the window, along with the shoe polish.

The fashion weeks ever speak of new trends that will wriggle down the pipeline for normal folk to feast on. But one user-generated skew seems to have emerged. A dress code that at once evokes the scruffy, make-do-and-mend vibe of the pandemic, a break from the rat race and the wearer’s own detachment from the gaudy churn of traditional fashion. No more seasonal collections, only seasonal produce, and things ‘built to last’. Welcome to Allotment-Core.

You probably grew stuff in lockdown; herbs, or a sourdough starter or whatever. Maybe you picked up a woodwind instrument or bought a pottery wheel. Perhaps you journaled. Whatever you did, you found pleasure in the simple things. A ripe English pear, pale afternoon light on the parlour wall, the first lamb of spring etc. And then when restrictions lifted, you ditched it all and went back to your normal life, or some semblance of it. But some people were changed irrevocably. They might have hightailed it out to a pile in the Quantocks, or quit their job in the city to set up a direct-to-consumer sauerkraut brand. They might even have gone off-grid, adiosed the…