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Most cashmere sold in the UK right now is absolute garbage. There, I said it. We’ve been conditioned to think that if a label says ‘100% Cashmere’ and it costs £75, we’ve scored some sort of luxury victory. We haven’t. We’ve just bought a garment made from short, scratchy fibers that will look like a bobbled mess before you’ve even finished your first pub lunch in it.

I’ve spent the last decade obsessing over knitwear because I work in a drafty office and refuse to turn the heating on at home until November. I’ve wasted thousands of pounds testing the high street ‘bargains’ and the heritage brands that charge a month’s rent for a button-down. I have thoughts. Very specific, probably annoying thoughts.

The M&S problem (and why I’m probably wrong)

I know people will disagree with me here. My mum will definitely disagree. But I genuinely loathe M&S cashmere. Everyone points to them as the gold standard for ‘affordable’ luxury in the UK, but every single cardigan I’ve bought from them—and I’ve tried four over the last six years—has been a disappointment. They feel thin. They feel… sad. After three washes, the navy one I bought from the Kensington branch in 2021 lost its shape so badly the hem started waving like a flag. I refuse to recommend them. I don’t care if they’re convenient. They’re a false economy.

Buying cheap cashmere is like dating someone who is beautiful but has absolutely no personality; it looks great for ten minutes and then you realize there’s nothing there.

What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. If you aren’t prepared to spend at least £150, you’re better off buying a high-quality merino wool. It’ll last longer and look better. Cheap cashmere is just a status symbol for people who don’t mind looking slightly disheveled by February.

The ‘Scientific’ Test: Uniqlo vs. The World

A close-up view of a cozy stack of knitted sweaters in warm shades, emphasizing texture and comfort.

Uniqlo is the only exception to my ‘cheap is bad’ rule, mostly because they don’t pretend to be something they aren’t. I actually tracked the wear on a grey Uniqlo V-neck cardigan over the 2022/23 winter. I wore it 42 times. I measured the cuff stretch with a tape measure every Sunday. By the end of the season, the cuffs had expanded by exactly 14mm. That’s not great, but for £90, it’s honest. It’s the baseline. If you just need something to throw on over a t-shirt for a Zoom call, fine. Buy the Uniqlo one. Just don’t expect it to become an heirloom.

Anyway, I once had a moth infestation in 2019 that wiped out half my wardrobe because I left a sandwich crust in a coat pocket near my knitwear drawer. It was a bloodbath. I spent three days freezing my remaining sweaters in Ziploc bags. It taught me that if you’re going to spend big, you have to treat the stuff like it’s a living creature. But I digress.

The only three cardigans actually worth your money

If you want the best cashmere cardigans in the UK, you have to look north. Or at least at brands that haven’t sold their souls to private equity firms yet.

  • Johnstons of Elgin: This is the heavy hitter. I weighed my 2018 Johnstons cardigan: 342 grams. I weighed a similar one from a ‘luxury’ department store brand: 210 grams. That weight difference is the difference between warmth and a lie. It’s thick, it’s Scottish, and it doesn’t pill if you even look at it funny.
  • Brora: I have a love-hate relationship with Brora because their colors can be a bit ‘Country Living Magazine’ for my taste, but their gauzy, oversized cardigans are incredible. They use long-staple fibers. That’s the secret. Long fibers don’t break and bobble.
  • N.Peal: Expensive? Yes. Overkill? Probably. But if you want to feel like you’re being hugged by a cloud that’s had a very successful career, this is it.

Johnstons is the winner. Total workhorse.

I actually like pilling (The ‘Wrong’ Opinion)

Here is my most controversial take: I think pilling is fine. People buy these expensive combs and battery-powered shavers to strip the bobbles off their sweaters every week. Stop it. You’re literally thinning the fabric. A little bit of pilling shows the garment is being used. It gives it a patina. I used to be obsessed with keeping my knits looking brand new, but I was completely wrong. A pristine cardigan looks like you just walked out of the shop. A slightly fuzzy one looks like you have a life.

I once wore a pilled-to-hell navy cardigan to a very fancy wedding in the Cotswolds. I felt more comfortable than the guys in their stiff, new suits. Cashmere should be lived in, not curated.

I’ve bought the same navy Johnstons of Elgin cardigan twice now. I lost the first one on a train to Edinburgh in 2016 and I didn’t even look for an alternative. I just went back and bought the exact same one. I don’t care if there’s a trendier brand on Instagram. I know what works.

Is it weird to be this emotionally attached to a piece of goat hair? Maybe. But when it’s February in London and the rain is horizontal, that cardigan is the only thing keeping me sane. Just don’t buy the cheap stuff. Please.

Does anyone actually find those ‘recycled cashmere’ blends soft? Because to me, they feel like a wool-blend dishcloth.

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