The Understated Wicker Basket

Why do the British converse non-stop about the weather? Because the conversation is formulaic: it can only go one of two ways. First, the weather will be horrendous – drizzle and mizzle aplenty – and thus two disgruntled acquaintances will stand in the newsagents, shuffling their sopping feet amid an awkward silence whilst queuing to buy the newspaper. There are two people in front, the cashier is new and is fumbling on the till, and so one will penetrate the painful silence with a “bloody awful out there, isn’t it?” The other has invariably stowed a toolkit of tried-and-true responses in their noggin, well-accustomed to the far-from-ideal climate; maybe he will wheel out a “Typical! Can’t seem to catch a break!” or a “Yeah, I saw clouds gathering but thought I’d risk it,” or, if he’s feeling super chatty, a “Terrible! Just had to bring the washing in and then, to top it all off, my brolly turned inside out on the way into town.”

But second, the weather might be pleasant – stray beams filtering through clouds that are more white than grey, perhaps a temperature that dares to teeter on double figures. Should such an occurrence happen, those two disgruntled acquaintances will stand in the newsagents, shuffling in their flip-flops amid an awkward silence whilst queueing to buy the newspaper. There are two people in front, the cashier is new and is fumbling on the till, and so one will penetrate the painful silence with a “bloody gorgeous out there, isn’t it?” The other has invariably stowed a toolkit of tried-and-true responses in their noggin, well-accustomed to the sporadic climate and the pallid individual buying a six-pack minus a shirt that stands before him; maybe he will wheel out a “Yeah! Lovely!” or a “Perfect! The lawn needed mowing anyhow,” or, if he’s feeling a little pessimistic, a “I wouldn’t count on it lasting – it’s going to rain soon by the looks of it.”

In any case, the British springtime demands an accessory that is rustic and durable, ideal for whatever unstable turbulence the weather might put us through. Enter the wicker basket. More than a mere storage container, the wicker basket represents a versatile paragon: that Birkin je ne sais quoi, a pastoral centrepiece from which daisies and peonies jut out, a holder lined with snug tartan that invites consumption of crustless sandwiches cut into neat triangles and bunches of crunchy red grapes. And it is understated.

What makes the wicker basket so understated, though? I would argue that it is its timelessness. In today’s culture, it is deceptively simple to become enmeshed in all the sensory wonderment that the fashion world has to offer – be it editorial, runway, or even Instagram – such as vibrant neons, bold prints, form-fitting latex, and transparent accessories. These trends are noticeable in their obnoxiousness, in their amplification, in their overexposure. One cannot help but pay attention and that is their selling point. But the wicker basket has transcended temporal bounds because it is not of-the-moment but is, somehow, always present. It is not loud or elaborate - hell, it isn’t even especially innovative – but it is practical, it is chic and celestial, it matches with near-enough everything, and it will never go out of style.