“Scandinavian minimalism is all about simplicity, purity, and calm” says Susanna Heiskanen on her blog The Nordic Mum, where she draws upon the timeless Danish concept of ‘hygge’, popularised in our English-speaking world with the help of Meik Wiking’s bestselling guide titled The Little Book of Hygge: The Danish Way to Live Well. Heiskanen elaborates on all elements that conjure up the unmistakably Nordic concept: durable furniture, dark pastel colours, cottages by lakes, practical (not frugal, never quite frugal) minimalism, and cleanliness both of environment and body.

“For does the feeling of a staple, beige, high-quality cotton jumper not instantly bring a sense of both corporeal and inner warmth?”

As autumn swiftly serves its time here in Cambridge, and the temperature drops from last week’s 18°, to this week’s 14°, to next week’s promise of 9°, winter will arrive in due time – hailing with it the arrival of dark Sidgwick mornings and Bridgemas balls. And so, I now find that we are indeed placed northern enough here that we may indulge ourselves a little more in our northernmost neighbours’ distinctive lifestyle. But how does all this translate to fashion, the quintessential mode of expression and comfort we have, especially as the plummeting temperature demands ever-increasing layering of wools, angoras, and cottons? I would say hygge, as a conceptualisation of Nordic and particularly Danish minimalism, is inexorably linked to the clothes we hang on our bodies. For does the feeling of a staple, beige, high-quality cotton jumper not instantly bring a sense of both corporeal and inner warmth?

“Danish fashion is delineated with images of ‘minimalism and monochrome’ as well as ‘androgynous styles’”

Thus begins our examination of what actually constructs this Scandinavian Vogue. Over at Scandinavian Standard (my personal favourite along with Vogue Scandinavia when it comes to checking on what the Nordics are up to), Danish fashion is delineated with images of ‘minimalism and monochrome’ as well as ‘androgynous styles’, the latter perhaps being a subtle testament to their winning ranking of being the so-called best country for working women. Nonetheless, I digress – the article hones in further on the specifics of these particular aesthetics, painting the Danes as shrouded in layered knitwear, with black their go-to colour, sharp staple jackets, and that element of the undone; “the mussed hair, scuffed shoes”, that so directly translates as that effortless northern European charm.

Omnipresent in any article focused on the Nordic style is attention drawn to the notion of investment in minimalist fashion, and thus we see the difference between frugality and chosen minimalism. Additionally, as part of their environmentalist efforts towards sustainability, it’s apparent that the Danes and their neighbours prefer to go the minimalist route by also investing infrequently in timeless pieces meant to stick in their wardrobes for many winters and cool summers to come. Whether these pieces be found from brand stores or luxurious vintage shops, you can be sure of their quality and ease on the eyes. So, I suppose you could attribute their motto as truly being ‘quality not quantity’.

“Impressive architecture against murky skies, ubiquitous minimalist efforts, and blonde girls clad in whites and creams”

And now, a bit of an authorial interlude – what have I myself seen of such fashion and lifestyle choices? What first inspired me to write this piece was pictures shown to me by my mother of her recent trip to Oslo, which in turn drew our conversation to a trip we made two summers ago to Copenhagen. Impressive architecture against murky skies, ubiquitous minimalist efforts, and blonde girls clad in whites and creams trickled through the conversation, inspiring me to refer back to Wiking’s little guide to hygge underneath a grey London sky, searching for that Danish serenity and peaceful beauty I so appreciated as a 17-year-old. I sought to, and am still seeking to, relearn it so as to inject it into my own personal little microcosm of Cambridge this Michaelmas, turning the dull and mundane into moments of creature comforts – warm as crackling firewood.

For anyone who, like me, suffers at times from the pangs of seasonal depressiveness, this article is especially addressed to you. I encourage you to take a trip to Heffers and to then find cosy solace in Wiking’s little gem, a gentle teacher of the integration of hygge, and to then indulge yourself in the cosy peacefulness of seasonal minimalism (whatever form that may take for you) in a way that would make our northern neighbours proud.