Some days inspiration strikes, and it feels fun and soul-nourishing to invest energy creating something fabulous for dinner. Other days, there’s a lot going on so you make a sandwich. And here’s the thing: both are fine. It’s a long game we’re playing here, folks.

Which is a roundabout way of saying: the sandwich rule, which I am about to share with you, is not style done the cordon bleu way, but it sure is useful for days when you want to look nice but don’t have time for drama.

The rule is simple. A sandwich has bread at the top and bottom, and something different in the middle. Applied to an outfit, it works like this: white jeans with a black jacket and black shoes. Or a black top and skirt, but with a pale coat and pale shoes. It is an easy, logical way of bringing visual harmony. Think of it like this: if you picture those white jeans with, say, a pale pink top and then add black shoes, the balance feels off, right? It’s bottom heavy. But when you mirror those black shoes with something darker up top – it doesn’t have to be a black jacket, it could be a navy jumper, I’m not an ogre – harmony is restored.

Sandwich dressing was big on TikTok a few years ago, but then got shouted down by voices who felt it was oversimplifying the magic sauce of style. Of course it is – that’s exactly the point! I mean, I love béarnaise sauce with steak as much as the next sentient carnivore, but sometimes I really don’t have the bandwidth for the whole slow-whisking vibe, and I’m happy just to go with a jar of dijon.

When sandwich dressing first did the rounds, Vogue argued that great style is about intuition and flair, and cannot be reduced to key stage one art theory. It invoked that most quotable high priestess, Diana Vreeland, who said of style in 1976: “I don’t think you can have it one day and not the next … You have it getting into bed. You have it when you have a temperature of 103 degrees and are moaning. It’s you.”

She was right, of course. Style is alchemy, not arithmetic. You cannot algorithm your way to charisma. But also, not every Tuesday requires alchemy; some Tuesdays require getting dressed in under seven minutes while drafting an email in your head and finding a phone charger.

The sandwich rule is a coping mechanism, that’s all. You are not leading the culture here, just holding off chaos. The trick works because the human eye loves repetition and resolution. When the visual weight of your shoes is echoed somewhere near your face, the silhouette feels complete. It frames you.

It also stops you making one of the most common style errors – Death by Black Shoe. Not a lesser known Agatha Christie, just a name I made up for when the colour scheme of an outfit is dragged down by the black shoes you put on as an afterthought.

The most straightforward version is colour mirroring. Tan boots? Try a camel coat or a warm-toned scarf. White trainers? A white T under a darker jacket does the job beautifully. Note: colour mirroring, not colour matching. If the shades are too close it gets a bit 1980s bridesmaid.

It works with texture, too: chunky boots and a chunky knit with something sleeker – silk skirt, tailored trousers – in between; leather jacket and leather boots over a floaty floral.

There is something confidence-boosting about knowing a trick. Trends are weather; tricks are infrastructure. The sandwich rule won’t suddenly look dated in six months, because it is based on balance not buzz. Also: it photographs well. On the upright rectangle of a phone, visual symmetry translates, because repetition draws the eye vertically and creates a pleasing rhythm.

Vreeland described style as a way to say who you are without having to speak. A sandwich outfit says: I am a competent person and I remembered to check the weather forecast. In other words, it’s your bread and butter.

Model: Laura Brown at Milk. Hair and makeup: Sophie Higginson using Ouai and Evolve Organic Beauty. Styling assistant: Charlotte Gornall. Cap, £60, Ralph Lauren. Earrings, £245, Dinosaur Designs. Jacket, £95, Next. Necklace, £240, Dinosaur Designs. Shirt, £77, & Other Stories. Jeans, £50, Gap. Shoes, £89, John Lewis