Every wardrobe has a floor note — the pieces the rest is built over. For us it is denim and the midi dress. They are the hardest things to make interesting and the easiest to make badly, which is exactly why the house refuses to rush either.

The denim is a straight-leg indigo with a proper rise and no distressing whatsoever. It is cut from a 12.5oz Japanese-milled cloth that softens at the knee before it gives up anywhere else, and it is sewn with a chain-stitched hem so the break falls the way it should. Paired with the long-cut white shirt, it is the house uniform — the outfit we reach for when we want to stop thinking about outfits.

A note on wearing them: the indigo is true to size and wants a belt only if you do; the shirt is cut long enough to tuck or loose enough to forget, and it looks deliberate either way, which took two patterns to arrange. The midi ties where it flatters and then stops asking for attention — the highest compliment a dress can be paid. Wash the denim rarely, cold, inside out; let the shirts go through a warm cycle without fear; and retire the indigo to the garden when the knees finally go — the cloth has earned the honesty.

The dress half of the edit answers a different brief: the chocolate midi, cut with a wrap waist that ties where it flatters and a skirt that moves a half-second after you do. There is also a collarless shirt-dress in the season’s cream, for the days that begin in the garden and end at a table. Both are cut for real movement — tested, like everything here, on a full studio day before they earn the rail.