Time for cosying up in Helsinki

It may not appear on most calendars but this week marked the official start of the cosy season. It got off to a rough start on Tuesday morning when I left my apartment in London for Helsinki at an anti-social hour but by the time I was settled into my seat on Finnair and wrapped up in my scarf and blazer I was feeling better and barely felt us lift off over Windsor.

Two hours later the murk of London was replaced by the dazzling tones of Finland’s forests, shifting rapidly from greens to tones of gold, burgundy and burnt orange. The sky over the city was cloudless, the sun was bouncing off the Baltic and there was a bite in the air making it perfect walking and new-autumn-wardrobe weather. There are few things that beat a flawless autumn day on the far side of the Baltic – particularly when it’s high pressure, the sun is still warm and everyone’s in an equally sunny mood.

Finland is in the midst of a brand overhaul (to be released in the coming month or so) that will see the country refine both its mission and messaging at home and abroad. While much of the branding effort will focus on areas such as education and clean technology, Finland could also do with taking ownership of cosiness as a pillar of its national identity.

For sure, the Danes with their brick fireplaces, groupings of Mogensen and Wegner armchairs and highly evolved coffee culture might have a thing or two to say about such a claim and the Swedes with their fika (coffee-and-cake break) culture, sheepskin-covered Bruno Mathsson lounge chairs and love of tealights might launch a diplomatic protest but a little cosiness is exactly what consumers are looking for at the moment and it’s up for almost any of the Nordics to grab.

At first glance Finland may not seem like the most obvious choice, but a working afternoon in Café Ekberg in central Helsinki would convince even the most grumpy sceptic otherwise. After a quick tour of some favourite vintage furniture stores and bookshops I stopped into the café in the late afternoon as the sun was starting to drop and locals were already slipping out of work. Full of proper ladies and gentlemen in smart blazers and sensible dresses, students in super-skinny denim and the odd Japanese tourist, Café Ekberg is all cane-back chairs, green marble table-tops and newspapers hung on wooden holders.

Of course, it’s also serious about sandwiches on hearty Finnish bread, coffee and lots of cakes. I took a table at the back, ordered a cappuccino and Berliner and tucked into a bag of Finnish architecture magazines and the daily newspapers. Before I knew it an hour had passed and I contemplated ordering another Berliner but decided I would watch the city wind down.

By 6pm-ish the streets were packed (or at least as packed as the streets ever get in Helsinki) with blonde bankers heading off to the gym, funky girls on Jopo bikes just looking funkily Finnish with their massive scarves, riding caps and cropped little blazers, and more Japanese tourists walking single-file through the park carrying shopping bags from Marimekko.

As the sun set, the candles started coming out in bars and the streets started to empty. After a furious round of e-mailing in my room I ventured out and started walking to the Seahorse for dinner. I stared up into the apartments as lights were switched on and wondered what Helsinki life would be like. I’ve often heard ex-pat friends complain about the dreadful winters but, having grown up in Winnipeg, there’s little that scares me in the way of cold and snow. I imagined an apartment full of vintage lights from Aalto, a collection of solid sofas and armchairs from Artek, lots of Johanna Gullichsen cushions, a library and a perfect audio/video set up for long nights in during the meanest days in January.

Of course, there’d be a roaring fireplace, a membership with the Finnish Sauna Society for weekend and evening dips in the sea and a lot of time spent in the aisles of the Stockmann department store’s academic book shop.

Before long I arrived at the little park that runs alongside the Seahorse restaurant and regarded the perfect little slice of urban planning. If ever a city planner or architect was looking for the right elements of community and scale, it’s this ideal little sliver of Helsinki. The streets are wide enough to be bright even in the darkest months but narrow enough to create a sense of intimacy. The buildings are solid and slightly imposing but somehow make the pedestrian feel coddled and protected. There’s plenty of greenery and the small park is neither too perfect, nor too wild.

Most importantly, there’s an eclectic mix of shops that are neither repetitive nor recognisable – a quaint bakery, an independent grocery store, an incense store from Kyoto and plenty of cafés, restaurants and bars. If you’re looking for a dose of cardamom-scented autumn cosiness, Helsinki’s starting to glow.

Tyler Brûlé is editor-in-chief of Monocle

tyler.brule@ft.com

More columns at www.ft.com/brule