The Dryrobe is more in-demand than a Hermes Birkin

Sales of all kinds of swimming accessories, alongside those much-lauded Dryrobes (more on those later), are on the rise; John Lewis’s range has expanded to incorporate not just those cocooning coats, but high performance swimsuits, quick-dry tracksuit tops and kit bags. Mountain Warehouse has seen a 495 per cent surge in searches for wetsuits in the last year, even in the winter. This isn’t the swimwear of the poolside posers, rather practical, functional essentials to get you through the laps safely. 

“If at all possible, I’ll go swimming in rivers and seas wherever I am,” says Telegraph Luxury’s editor-in-chief Sasha Slater. “I’ve plunged into the North Sea in Norway in October and paddled in Deben Estuary in Suffolk in the hail. I am addicted to the hot, tingly euphoria that floods you as you emerge. I’ll wear neoprene gloves and socks for freezing hands and feet. I’m not one for a dry robe; all you need is a scruffy old dressing gown.”

Slater is old school in this respect; there are plenty of devotees of the Dryrobe phenomenon. The British brand sprang to life in the seafoam of the Cornwall coast, where surfer Gideon Bright came up with the idea of a fast-drying robe to cosset him from the buffeting gales upon exiting the sea. And with the rise of open water swimming during the pandemic, when other forms of exercise were off-limits, the Dryrobe became more in-demand than a Hermes Birkin. Search the hashtag on Instagram and you’ll find droves of fresh-faced, ruddy-cheeked folks on sun-dappled shorelines, triumphant in army camouflage Dryrobes. There’s technical accomplishment alongside the aesthetic panache too; the shell is waterproof while the recycled polyester lining is quick-drying. Plus, it’s comfortingly oversized. Even Harry Styles is a fan. And you know you’ve really made it when you’re so popular there’s a backlash hashtag against its proclivity. 

Even I’m tempted, and I write this as someone who is known for an aversion to water that’s not bath-water like. Perhaps it goes back to a childhood during which I was frogmarched into the North Sea off Berwick with a staunch reprimand about being a ‘Big Jessie’.