My old robe

Laura: “You will always love that robe that my parents gave you as a Christmas present, huh?”

This robe is the robe of the prime of my life. I got it when I was 20, now I’m nearly double that age. It’s not so much that I like this robe so much as it’s the only robe I’ve ever had, really.

I would like to say that it is the platonic ideal of a robe, but that wouldn’t be right. I have to drop the L. It is actually the platonic “idea” of a robe for me. Beyond this robe I don’t really have a concept of what a robe is or should be.

How did my mother-in-law and late father-in-law choose this robe? In central Dundee, they walked into Debenhams, which was not the most exciting shop but one you trusted wouldn’t sell you a dud, and chose a colour that wouldn’t clash with anything in whatever interior in which it situated itself.

Cotton, towel fabric. It never makes me sweat. It also doesn’t provide much warmth. Oh yes, it says John Rocha on the label (I remember noting that name at the time, but for me it’s always been the Debenhams robe).

Debenhams has now disappeared from our towns and cities. I say “our” but I – we – don’t live in Britain any more.

Now, in 2025, there may be ways to buy robes that are better than this robe according to some measure, but I suspect that those ways are not available on the high street of every medium-to-large town in the country. From Dundee, you’d have to head 90 mins north to Aberdeen or south to Edinburgh to get to The White Company.

There may be good robes on Amazon but I have no confidence in my ability to tap on that one out of a lineup of bathrobes.

I suspect the truth is that you can now only buy robes that are worse, or robes that are more expensive.

Laura, I guess I always will love this robe that your parents got for me. But it also makes me feel a bit sad.