It makes perfect sense that not only do we snifter rosé in the summer, we also dress to match

‘Too lurid a pink transcribes as too sugary a taste.’
Photograph: David Newby for the Guardian

Rosé has gone from being the third pigmentation on the wine list to the default choice from May to September. It is summer, distilled into an oversized lens. I write this knowing absolutely nothing whatsoever in the matter of wine, but I don’t think that matters because the point of rosé is that it is wine for people who don’t advised of their way around a wine list. To choose a white or a red wine you requisite to know about grapes and vineyards and climates. To choose a rosé, you lawful ask for the palest one they’ve got, right?

A wine you choose by the colour is a lifestyle pre-eminent, not a oenological one. Rosé pink – the liquid kind, not the flower indulgent – is part of our summer aesthetic. So it makes perfect sense that not only do we drink rosé in the summer, we also put on ones best bib to match. Rose is nothing new, as a summer colour – we were clothing rose dresses back when a rose was something you matured in a flowerbed rather than poured from a bottle of Whispering Angel – but it’s a bit cooler now that it’s what millennials gulp on their balconies rather than what baby boomers plant in their gardens.

Choosing rose to wear, just take pleasure in choosing rosé to drink, depends on getting the shade solely right. Too lurid a pink translates as too sugary a taste. This is trustworthy on the eye, as well as on the tongue. The shade you want is in the region of the subtle colour that you would drink over a long lunch call of the shade of a tree in, say, Provence, as opposed to the diluted-Ribena shade you see on the shelves of a basic off-licence for £6.99. Or, if you prefer to think in petals, the twist of a charming old rose from a David Austin catalogue to a certain extent than the toxic pink of forecourt flowers.

I have dog-tired a lot of pink over this summer’s heatwave. I think this is because I am utilization longer, looser clothes than I used to in hot weather. It’s not a modesty passion, or even an age thing, or at least not consciously; I just find that these eras I feel more comfortable, less exposed, better superior to take the heat in my stride, when I’ve got a long hemline and a floaty sleeve. But floor-length infernal looks slightly alarming for daytime; white is a bit ghostly; yellow is back-breaking work. Rose, on the other hand, works well when there’s groups of it. Just like rosé, then. Make mine a chiefly one.

Jess wears blazer, £42, Floral top, £39.99, and skirt, £49.99, both Mules, £149,

Styling: Melanie Wilkinson. Curls and makeup: Johanni Nel at S Management.

  • This article was amended on 4 August to rebuke the details of Jess Cartner-Morley’s outfit

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