How I used to love shopping in Hobbs. In the mid-Eighties, I'd haunt the Covent Garden branch almost every lunch hour, gazing longingly at the boots and shoes, wellmade trouser suits, cosy, capacious coats and sharp shirts.

It was the shop of choice for a particular type of woman: an ambitious but not too adventurous professional, who needed to look smart and businesslike for the office.

I loved Hobbs because it was less scarily fashionable than Joseph, but more democratic than Margaret Howell, who was selling similar tailoring - long frock coats, grey suiting, mannish jackets and fitted shirts - but at twice the price.

Hobbs was the brainchild of Marilyn Anselm, who graduated from the Central School of Art, got married, had two children and then had the inspired idea of not just selling shoes (she founded the Bertie shoe chain) and clothes, but a complete lifestyle.

Her first Hobbs boutique, which opened in Hampstead, North London, in 1981, was styled like a country sitting room, with battered sofas, a mantelpiece and flowers.

The reason her idea immediately had such resonance among the super-stressed women of the Eighties was that not only were the mossy tweeds a welcome antidote to the Lurex and Lycra exhibitionist, trashy clothes that were everywhere, they were deeply nostalgic.

Then, in the Nineties, Hobbs dropped off the fashion radar. The way women dressed for work changed - we were confident enough to start sporting slippy dresses and spaghetti straps and stop wearing jackets and sensible skirts - but Hobbs stayed the same.

I would look in the window from time to time, but it seemed stuck in a time warp, churning out the type of clothes only the middle aged and boring would wear to a wedding or, worse, a funeral.

Though it had always been strong on accessories - at first, the store was 70 per cent shoes - as our mania for ever more adventurous, frivolous bags and shoes took off, Hobbs failed not only to keep up, it wasn't even in the race.

It became trapped in the mire that also encased Jigsaw and Whistles: once great, well-loved stores that were neither funky or luxurious enough to keep our attention.

All that, thank goodness, is about to change. Sandy Verdon - the talented designer who cut her teeth at Next and who performed the kiss of life on Jaeger, that other British stalwart in need of a push-up bra - took over the helm in January, and her first designs are about to trickle into stores.

This is great timing for Hobbs, as shoppers are starting to realise that middle-market shops - such as the rapidly improving Whistles, LK Bennett and Karen Millen - are the answer to the conundrum of where to shop if you don't want bargain basement, disposable clothes, but can't afford designer.

The ethos behind Hobbs - traditional tailoring that will stand the test of time - is particularly relevant as shoppers wake up to the fact that the provenance of our clothes is as important as the food we eat.

A commendable 15 per cent of Hobbs womenswear is manufactured in Britain (M&S makes only one per cent of its clothing in this country), all the tweed is from Yorkshire and Sandy is the only designer on the High Street I have come across, who can name the mill where her yarn is spun: the family-run Abraham Moon mill, near Leeds.

But never mind the ethics, would you want to wear the new collection? My favourite pieces are a satin-backed crepe riding jacket, chocolate wool jodhpurs that could be mistaken for Prada, a silk crepe long-sleeved cocktail dress with sequin domes at the collar and cuff, and a cashmere wrap coat that could be from MaxMara.

Lovely, too, are a cream shift with black feathers at the neck, a doublebreasted wool military coat, mannish trousers with turn-ups and print skirts. A winter linen skirt has a print copied from furnishing fabric.

While the range is not cheap - skirts are £140, a silk print scarf £89, jackets are £220 and the military coat is £199 - the attention to detail, cut and quality of fabric is worth twice that. The designs are classic, which means they won't date.

Sandy has achieved the impossible: she is managing to keep her core customer - the conservative working mum - happy, while enticing her twenty-something daughter, who will surely love the funnel-neck plaid lumberjack coat (£199) and chunky biker boots (£249).

She has big plans for the brand. All 57 stand-alone stores will be refurbished, and she plans to expand her manufacturing in the UK, increasing the amount of British wool used.

I suggest she contacts the enterprising young designer Dean Thomas, who graduated from Central St Martins this summer with a collection fashioned exclusively from wool, leather, feathers and horn.

His buttons are made from discarded deer antlers sourced on Exmoor, where he spent his childhood.

In a sneak preview of the spring 2009 Hobbs range, which is edgier and funkier than the winter collection, I love the curvy cream blazer with bias binding detail (a Balenciaga lookalike), while huge hits next summer are bound to be simple silk shifts in sorbet colours, with matching flats.

'I want women to be comfortable, fresh, easy in their clothes,' says Sandy. 'We will still be first port of call for that all-important interview suit, statement evening wear and the best of British tailoring. But we realise our customer has moved on. Now we've moved on, too.'