Tweed, thorny florals and Lady Macbeth: fashion goes for a hard Brexit

I was early for Burberry on Monday evening, so as I waited I spent some time gazing at the monumental bronzes in the Henry Moore exhibition being hosted in the show space at Makers House. I’m no art critic, so what do I know, but they felt to me to be as much depictions of rolling hills and dales as they were of women. The graceful but uneven humps, the Durdle Door peepholes, the silent, gruff Jurassic grandeur. Surely, I thought, I’m looking at the British landscape, as well as a reclining nude? Moore’s wartime drawings of Londoners sleeping on tube station platforms have a straight-up Blitz spirit patriotism, but there is a sense of nationhood in these sculptures that reminded me of the radical roots of the ramblers and Stanley Baldwin talking about England in 1924: “The tinkle of the hammer on the anvil in the country smithy, the corncrake on a dewy morning ... the wild anemones in the woods in April.”