London has been in lockdown since March 23, 2020, which means that most of the things that make life worth living—Cheltenham races, Rugby, Sunday roast, eating out, shopping for a spring coat—have not been “in person” for more than a year.

Trapped in our tiny bubbles in a cold climate, we don’t care what’s hot or not. I just got an e-mail from the Daily Mail, catch-lined “re-entry outfits!,” inviting me to write up my planned attire for when “we can meet up outside again” (as of March 29). I checked the date to see if it was an April Fool’s prank.