It was a Tuesday – a day that, let’s be honest, Tuesday calls are rarely ever good news in our household. Sundays are for scheduled cheque-in calls; Wednesdays mean someone’s in the hospital; Tuesdays, however, are designated for either major fashion crises or for getting the best gossip. “Madison,” my mom says. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she had found something she thought was revolutionary. “Have you seen this cardigan at Marks & Spencer that everyone’s talking about?” I’m sitting in my small Portland apartment staring at a stack of invoices for freelance work I need to send. Honestly, my first thought was: “Oh God, what’s next?” My mom’s fashion finds generally include either elastic waistbands or cardigans with appliqué cats. They’re not exactly in line with my attempt to create an aesthetic of being a functioning creative professional. However, she goes on to talk about waiting lists and sold-out websites and how her neighbour went to three different stores to find one, and I am like… “wait, what?”
Nowhere in my training to write about affordable fashion does it mention how to gauge whether something is truly gaining momentum versus simply creating momentum. Over the next week, I continued to hear about this cardigan. My coworker Jenny brought it up. Someone in line at Powell’s was literally on the phone trying to locate one. Three different fashion bloggers/accounts I follow wrote about it. That’s big because I’m picky about who I follow — I don’t have time for influencers spouting off about random items.
The cardigan comes from M&S, and we don’t even have that chain in our area. Apparently you can order it online. It’s called the Textured Knit Button Through Cardigan (officially) but everyone refers to it as simply “the cardigan” as if there is only one cardigan in existence today. It costs £35, which is approximately $45 with shipping. That’s roughly the same amount I’d pay for a respectable cardigan at Target, though this one has people running around like headless chickens.
At first, I was skeptical. I’ve been duped by trendy pieces before — remember when everyone said the Everlane jeans were going to revolutionize the industry? Yeah, they left a weird gap at my waist and I tossed them six months later. However, the more I researched this item, the more curious I became. What’s odd is there’s nothing unique about it at all.
There isn’t anything innovative about its construction or use of new fabrics. There is no celebrity tie-in or limited-edition angle. Even the colours aren’t terribly vibrant – Navy, Black, Camel, Cream, Sage Green, and Dusty Pink. These are basic colours that your mother would approve of. Given that my mother literally called me about it, that cheques out.
However, I kept seeing it on social media and the styling looked… really good? People were pairing it with slip dresses and making it appear high-end, or throwing it over band tee shirts and somehow making it look cool. The versatility seemed to be incredibly impressive, not just some influencer nonsense where they style one piece in a dozen different ways and eleven of those styles look ridiculous.
Therefore, I obviously had to purchase one. For research purposes. Definitely not because I was experiencing FOMO regarding a mid-range cardigan from a British retailer I had never purchased from prior to this.
Ordering it was harder than anticipated. Apparently, the retailer had sold out constantly. I had to sign up for restock notifications as if I were purchasing concert tickets. When the email finally came that the Navy colour was available in my size, I literally stopped whatever I was doing and purchased it. Which felt crazy. But also… everybody else was buying them too. Clearly I was not the only person losing my mind over knitwear.
When it arrived (which happened relatively quickly), I opened the packaging anticipating either loving it or being totally unimpressed. Instead, I had this bizarre middle-ground reaction of “oh, this is really nice.” Not earth-shatteringly nice. Not life-changing nice. Just plain nice.
The quality is better than I anticipated for the price point. The knit has this almost imperceptible texture that appears to be more premium than it is, and those tortoiseshell buttons everyone keeps raving about? Those buttons are actually large and attached securely, unlike those flimsy plastic ones that fall off after the third time you wear it. The fit is slightly boxy, yet not shapeless – it is that magical combination of oversized yet still flattering.
I tried it on with jeans first because that is my go-to outfit, and it looked… alright. Good. Appropriate. Professional enough for client meetings, yet casual enough for coffee shops. Next, I tried it on with this old slip dress that I hardly wear because it seems too fancy for my reality, and instantly I appeared to be someone who has their act together. As if someone who owns matching undergarments and remembers to water plants.
That’s when it clicked. This cardigan is like the fashion equivalent of that person everyone likes – not the most fascinating individual in the room, but reliable, pleasant to be around, and elevates everyone else who surrounds her. It’s not trying to make a statement. Therefore, it becomes surprisingly versatile.
I have been wearing it consistently for three weeks now and I am beginning to comprehend the fervor surrounding it. Not because it is a game-changer. Rather, because it simply performs. I have worn it to client meetings, on dates, to the grocery store, and over my gym clothes after I leave the gym. It works with my vintage Levis’, with thrifted silk scarves, with those Target dresses I purchased during my last retail therapy session. It’s like owning a really good foundation shade – dull in itself, but enhances everything else.
One of the things I appreciate most about this cardigan is how many different styling possibilities exist. In a manner that is not contrived. I have seen people wearing it buttoned-up as a top with high-waisted trousers, over summer dresses while transitioning into Fall, and layered beneath blazers for added dimension. My friend Sarah, whose style is radically different than mine (she’s more minimalist while I’m more eclectic) purchased the cream-colored version after seeing mine. Although they styled it differently on her, it looked just as fabulous.
This cardigan has developed into some sort of collective bonding experience. I spotted another woman wearing the sage green version at a coffee shop in the Pearl District last week. We exchanged a glance, both gazed at each other’s cardigans and burst out laughing. “The M&S one?” she asked, and upon nodding, we talked for twenty minutes about how we both were caught up in the hype and were surprised by how much we enjoyed them.
Apparently, she had purchased three different colours. THREE! And she didn’t seem ashamed about it either, which helped me relax about possibly purchasing the camel version. “It’s like finding the perfect white t-shirt,” she stated, “except it’s a cardigan, and now you want it in every colour.”
Since then, I have begun spotting them everywhere. At Trader Joe’s, in front of me in line, paired with wide-leg jeans and sneakers. At the park, on a mom, over a midi dress with ankle boots. On a woman who appeared to be a tech worker, layered underneath a blazer with tailored pants. Every time it looked entirely normal and fitting for the occasion.
The resale market for these items is utterly unbelievable. I’ve seen them listed on Poshmark for twice the retail price. I realise how difficult they are to acquire when they sell out. There are Facebook groups centered around swapping different colours and sizes of the cardigan. These groups resemble some type of cardigan underground. Women posting “ISO navy size 10, will trade cream size 12 for” as if they were exchanging rare collectibles.
My mom finally obtained the dusty pink version and sent me a picture of her wearing it with white jeans and sandals. She looks more polished than I have seen her look in years. “You were correct about this one,” she texted. Since she’s the one that informed me about it in the first place, that felt like a strange turn of events. “I may require the navy version too.”
As a budget fashion writer, I believe this cardigan embodies this sweet-spot that is extremely challenging to reach. It is affordable enough that it won’t feel cheap. It appears to be constructed with quality materials, therefore it should endure. Plus, the versatility allows for low-cost per wear, provided I don’t lose interest with it within six months.
However, here is the aspect of it that really resonated with me: I wore it to a client presentation recently, and the woman I presented to – who always looks impeccably polished and likely pays more for a single blouse than I do for clothing each month – complimented it. “That’s a fantastic cardigan,” she said. “It looks expensive.” Upon learning that it was $45 from M&S, she immediately requested additional information.
That, my friends, is the ultimate goal of budget fashion. To discover pieces that appear more luxurious than they actually are, and which function appropriately within environments filled with individuals sporting luxury clothing. This cardigan achieves that without attempting to be overly flashy or including overt designer elements that scream “look at me, I’m fashionable.”
I believe the primary cause for its widespread popularity lies in the fact that it addresses a concern many of us unknowingly possess. To find that perfect layering piece that fits into numerous scenarios, that doesn’t bunch up when you shove it in a bag, and that causes everything else in your wardrobe to appear more purposeful. It’s boring enough to not compete with statement pieces, yet stylish enough to enhance basics.
In addition to solving a common issue, it photographs well. Which, although seems superficial, is critical in today’s world of Instagram and Zoom meetings. The texture of the cardigan captures well in images. The proportions of the cardigan photograph attractively without being trendy enough to look outdated in six months. And those buttons capture light in a manner that resembles luxury in photographs.
I’ll probably end up purchasing the camel version. Possibly the sage green version as well, depending on my freelance invoicing situation this month. Which is absurd. How did I evolve into someone who needs multiple versions of the same cardigan? Yet, if I’m going to wear something continually, having alternatives makes sense. And at $45 apiece, it’s still less expensive than one sweater from most retailers I regularly patronize.
My graphic design brain continues to ponder why this particular piece resonated so strongly. It has all the fundamental tenets of great design — clean lines, proper proportions, subtle details that provide interest without distraction. The colour palette is classic enough to pair with everything yet not so bland that it fades away. The cut is modern without being trendy. It embodies all the qualities I strive for when assembling ensembles, in one singular garment.
