JiveVib

Was Nigella Lawson’s beach burkini a defence against the Australian sun, or a subversive political statement?

Earlier this week, a British woman in Australia wore a full head-to-toe black suit, complete with hoodie, to go swimming. Perhaps she thought what she wore on the beach was her own business. How wrong could she be. Wind forward a couple of days and there were already more than 100,000 items on a Google search under Nigella and burkini; the image had been beautifully subverted in a Times cartoon on the op-ed page (it was Nick Clegg's turn to be burkini-ed as he frolicked in the surf with Cameron), and dozens of shots of her unusual swimwear were in newspapers and on websites attracting thousands of hits. Plus several columnists had shared their thoughts on the folly or wisdom of Nigella Lawson's decision.

Lawson's burkini had become a textbook illustration of a Hot, Flat and Crowded world, to borrow the title of a book by the American globalisation theorist, Thomas Friedman. The Hot is self-explanatory, given that the most plausible explanation for the burkini was the Australian sun; Flat, because the speed of the web ensures an audience of millions, even billions, within hours for the smallest detail of someone's everyday life, and Crowded, because for a celebrity, nowhere is safe from the long reach of a paparazzi zoom lens. And, as in all crowds, people want to look and pass comment; a crowded world entails a lot of gossip. It also brings into conversation – or collision – entirely different cultures.

And therein lies the rub. Lawson is an icon of English femininity. She has crafted her own image as carefully as she decorates one of her fancy cakes. She has offered her voluptuous cleavage and fine facial features as a way to glamorise the female labour of feeding family and friends. No longer the sweated brow, stained hands and soiled apron of mother at the stove, but the effortlessness and poise of cashmere cardigans, hourglass figures and – on one particular occasion which made a big impression on me – sparkly mascara. Only someone who has turned femininity into a career would have the time to pull all this off.

But the contradictions thrown up by our crowded world is that an icon of sexy English femininity turns to a Muslim sportswear website for help in combating the ageing, carcinogenic ravages of the Australian sun – or was it to conceal the curves from the prying eyes of a global audience? Inevitably the commentators (and so far in my researches, they were all women) pondered on Lawson's motivation, and whether this decision was a style blunder, a "betrayal of her own brand", or a defiant and admirable insistence on privacy for her body.

What provoked less comment was the extraordinary timing of Lawson's burkini beach trip, coming only a week after France's ban on women wearing the burqa and niqab came into force. On one side of the world, England's finest rose is choosing to don sharia-compliant clothing, while on the other, one of the foremost liberal democracies in the world is bringing the full force of the law against a small number of women who insist on wearing their interpretation of Sharia-compliant clothing. One prompts a torrent of witty, playful commentary, the other is accompanied by a bitterly contested debate on the treatment of women in Islam. At the heart of both stories is an obsession with women's bodies and how they should or shouldn't be displayed – and the fierce patrolling of different social conventions governing them.

On a beach, a woman is expected to expose her body, and it's that refusal which has captured attention. Lawson is defying our social conventions to protect herself – her privacy and her skin. And there is a sneaking understanding, even admiration, in many quarters for her gesture. Evident among all the women commenting is a weary recognition of the ordeal of swimwear – the hair removal and fake tans required to meet even minimal standards – which, for the post partum, becomes a widespread sense of falling short, of failure. And there's an appreciation of how this falls punitively on famous women, whose bodies abroad are scrutinised for extra bulges, cellulite and sag; if anyone is in any doubt as to what Lawson shrewdly dodged, look at some of the harsh judgments on her bikini-clad companion. Few women can fail to understand Lawson's urge to wrap up.

Meanwhile, on the street, a woman is expected to show her face, and when she refuses she now faces prosecution from the state in countries such as France and Belgium. All that distinguishes the two cases of Islamic dress is our beliefs about choice. The assumption is that Lawson chose her outfit, and the assumption is that niqab-wearing women in France are not making a free choice. But how confident can we be of either assumption? Perhaps Lawson would rather the contempt generated by a burkini than the scorn and judgment generated by revealing a middle-aged woman's body – but what kind of constrained choice is that?

Equally, some French niqab wearers use precisely the arguments of individual choice to justify their niqab as a way of ensuring privacy in a culture saturated with the exploitation and commodification of women's bodies. The latter is an uncomfortable reality for many who have been so disempowered that they are only left with irritated impotence: my 14-year-old son asks me why I put up with the huge M&S lingerie billboards plastered over London, and I have no reply. I don't much like the niqab because it eliminates the possibility of street conviviality, but I understand entirely the desire to withdraw from the world's invasive, intrusive attention.

This is the brilliantly subversive conclusion to this random collision of stories in our crowded planet. Unwittingly perhaps, Lawson the skilful image maker has just launched a powerful political statement about how a woman can choose to wear sharia-compliant clothing. Everyone understands her to be an aspirational brand, a role model, an arbiter of taste. In the topsy-turvy chaos of a web world where images and ideas are deracinated, massively projected, manipulated and recycled, Lawson's beachwear has already become iconic – and in a small way, revolutionary. Marianne, the symbol of the French Revolution, stormed the Bastille, breast bared; her 21st-century descendant is burkini-clad.

The great cover-up: Homa Khaleeli on how the burkini is gaining favour with Muslims and non-Muslims alike

Nigella Lawson may be the highest-profile "burkini" wearer, but she is far from alone in her choice. Companies selling "modest swimwear" have been doing brisk business among Muslims for years – but now non-Muslims are snapping up their designs, and pushing them to create new ranges.

Kausar Sacranie, 36, who designed the all-encompassing black swimsuit-and-hood combination Lawson wore for her Bondi Beach trip, says she wasn't surprised when the Domestic Goddess placed an order with her company, Modestly Active. According to Sacranie, around 15% of her customers are non-Muslims, unwilling to strip off to enjoy a day at the beach. "I was pleased, but I didn't question her reasons," she says. "I knew they would be the same as many of my other customers – sun protection, modesty and freedom to wear whatever garment they choose."

Sacranie started the company in 2007 with her husband Ismail, after struggling to swim in T-shirts and leggings – something many Muslim women do to avoid stripping off. She has since sold thousands of burkinis, mostly through word-of-mouth recommendations. "It has answered a lot of [Muslim] women's prayers," she says. "They will ring or give testimonials to say we have given them the freedom they have been waiting for."

Azlin Ishak, from Humberside, bought her burkini two years ago, and says it has allowed her to take part in a sport she loves. "It looks like the one Nigella was wearing. I got it because I choose to keep my body private, but I love to swim."

Despite the insults levelled at Lawson, Ishak says no one seems particularly offended by the outfit. "I wear it to the leisure centre," she says. "I always ask first if it's OK. Most people have never seen anything like it – but let you wear it. I have heard some people say it doesn't look nice, but I don't mind, and no one has insulted me."

Now Sacranie is preparing to launch a range of swimwear without hoods, for non-Muslims and anyone who prefers to leave their heads uncovered. As she points out, the outfit frees women from the pressure of living up to the "perfect bikini body". "You don't have to worry about your legs or looking perfect," she says, "you can just go on the beach and enjoy yourself."

Umran Ashman has run the website Modestkini since 2005, and alongside her "full cover" burkini-style swimsuits, she offers semi-covered styles, from short-sleeved tunics with three-quarter length leggings to sleeveless dress styles with cycling shorts. The site sells thousands of the swimsuits every year to women in the UK and abroad, and Ashman says many of her customers are non-Muslim.

Annie from north London has bought three. "I am in my mid-50s and I don't have a bad figure, but my legs aren't as great as they used to be. This swimwear covers your legs, your bum, front and back, and I feel more private and relaxed. You aren't worried about the cellulite on your thighs or your tummy not being flat. Buying swimwear is awful, and it just gets worse when you are older."

So far, the Nigella effect hasn't resulted in a sales boom for Sacranie's company – but she is hopeful. "She looked nice. She seemed happy – she had a big grin. I would have said she was enjoying wearing it."

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