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Archive for the ‘textile’ Category

I’m very excited to announce that my work currently features in a group exhibition called Don’t Feed the Monster! at Galleri F15, Moss, Norway.

needlework tools and materials for making textile wall-hanging

Don’t Feed the Monster work in progress

Don’t feed the monster! is an exhibition asking critical questions about the impact of the fashion industry on the environment. The exhibition opens up a multi-faceted examination of this topic. The textile and fashion industry is one of the world’s largest – and globally one of the most polluting. The exhibition examines the situation as it looks today. The works on display both engage and attempt to provoke change. The twelve participating designers and artists share their ideas, methods and alternative stories through visual narrative, specific design solutions, activism, innovative use of technology and resources and examination of cultural history.

Fast Fashion Facts 1

Some Fast Fashion Facts sourced from Fashion Revolution You can find even more facts in the Value Our Clothing WRAP Report

I have always been interested in making clothes last, and over the last few years I have become more and more interested in issues in fast fashion production, which has myriad problems. Mending your clothes to make them last longer is a disruptive practice that goes against the grain of the fast fashion cycle. Through my Visible Mending Programme, I provide repair inspiration and share and provide repair skills in an attempt to break this cycle. Mending should be something that becomes normal again; something I want to achieve by making mends beautifully visible.

Mending as activism and mending as a skill has many parallels for me, one aspect of which I particularly wanted to highlight in this exhibition: my need for knowledge. In order to have agency as an activist, it is important to be informed about the issues you are worried about. When repairing, it is important to understand what techniques to use for a long-lasting mend.

Gathering mending knowledge: tools, old books, darning and sewing samplers

I also want to show how repairs can be beautiful, so I created a wall-hanging made from deadstock calico and silk darning thread, showing hemmed patches and darns. By presenting these humble techniques in a more abstract setting away from clothes, it allows the viewer to engage with the repairs up close and re-evaluate their aesthetic qualities.

Untitled (a re-evaluation of the aesthetic possibilities of repair)

Untitled – 2019 (a re-evaluation of the aesthetic possibilities of repair)

In the past it was normal to repair clothes: they were expensive to purchase, and people had very few items in their wardrobes compared to today. Nowadays it has become acceptable to replace or discard worn out clothes, even if they are easy to fix. I want people to rethink their attitudes towards this wasteful habit, by presenting fast fashion industry facts.

Darning and patching detail

Visible Mending Wallhanging – detail

When people do get clothes repaired, they often want this to be as invisible as possible, so that worn-out items look “as new.” Invisible repairs require in-depth knowledge of materials and techniques, and disrupting this practice by making  the repairs stand out instead, allows for a re-appreciation of the mended garment.

Mending clothes is just one possible answer contributing towards a solution. The issues around fast fashion permeate the whole of society, as clothes are such an integral part of everybody’s life. What’s so great about Don’t Feed The Monster! is that the curators at Galleri F15 have managed to find a great selection of interesting voices and approaches: Annemor Sundbø (NO), Atacac (SE), Carole Frances Lung/Frau Fiber (US), Celia Pym(UK), Elisa van Joolen (NL), Fibershed (US) with Amanda Coen (US), HAiKw/ (NO), Pati Passero (NO), Rational Dress Society (US), Siri Johansen (NO) and Tim Mitchell(UK).

I would like to invite everybody to find inspiration and be an inspiration through the #visiblemending hashtag!

Don’t feed The Monster! Is on at Galleri F15, Moss, Norway, until 22 January 2020.

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Wolf and Gypsy Vintage love to collaborate with local artists and specialists, so I’m proud to let you know that we have teamed up once more. We have collaborated in the past on a small collection of lovingly repaired indigo and workwear garments, aptly named “May All Your Dreams Be Indigo“. So, it felt natural to work together again.

Wolf and Gypsy tomofholland shop window

TOMOFHOLLAND x Wolf & Gypsy Window

As repairing clothes as part of my Visible Mending Programme relies on having garments to repair, I always enjoy a good collaboration. Following the success of my first collaboration with Wolf & Gypsy, “May All Your Dreams Be Indigo,” in which I repaired a number of indigo workwear items, I was very excited when Laura asked me again. It think it’s a natural match, as buying second-hand clothes is one way of dealing with the issues of fast fashion. Working with a small business like Wolf & Gypsy allows me to exchange ideas with Laura directly, and we trust each other to come up with things that will work for both of us.

a pile of tomofholland repaired cardigans for wolf and gypsy

A pile of lovingly repaired varsity cardigans

When Laura sees pieces that, with a bit of love and care, could take centre-stage of a great outfit, then it’s an enjoyable challenge for me to make sure that can happen. With these varsity cardigans I was struck by the appliqué patches. They are quite stiff and really sit on top of the cardigan fabric. I emulated that effect with the darning technique used. To keep a coherent look, I matched the colours of those patches, too. Each of the cardigans has its own serial number, which I keep track of in my Visible Mending Programme log book.

Varsity cardigan with patches; apparently the number signifies the year of graduation

varsity cardigan with repaired patches

I picked up the colours of the applique patches for my repairs

tomofholland x wolf & gypsy varsity jacket

A very rare varsity jacket with a “T” – apologies for the reflections in the window!

varsity jacket name and serial number

The jackets and cardigans all have their owner’s name in chain stitch, and I’ve added a seria number for my log book

This limited range of visibly mended cardigans and jacket is exclusively available in-store at Wolf & Gypsy.

Also keep an eye out for more TOMOFHOLLAND X Wolf & Gypsy news soon!

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Anybody who’s met me at a darning-related event will have seen a dark green sweater with numerous moth holes in it. It was given to me about six years ago to practice my visible mending on. It had sadly surfaced from a relative’s wardrobe with many moth holes. What better to repair it with than some gorgeous hand-spun, hand-dyed yarn. It was a very textural and variegated yarn, and made for a beautiful contrast to the fine machine-knit jumper. I enjoyed this challenge to make use of jumper and yarn.

MUM+DAD Sweater moth holes

A sweater riddled with moth holes…

MUM+DAD Sweater Repaired tomofholland visiblemending

A mere six years later, all holes repaired

One thing that always interests me is the motivation for repair: every mend I have done has a story behind it. When I take on a visible mending commission, I always want to know the story of the item under repair. This is no different for the things I repair for myself, and this green jumper is a prime example.

The gift of sweater and yarn was bigger than I could ever have imagined, and in those six years, a lot of things have happened. I met amazing people along the way, I have learnt so much about repairing textiles, and yet I feel I have only just scratched the surface of what is possible.

The first record of the sweater that I can find, is when I wrote about attending the MEND*RS Symposium as Mender in Residence. It was a meeting of like-minded people at an old farm, and I have fond memories of gathering in the barn, talking about the subversiveness of repair, and with wild plans to change the world.

MUM+DAD Sweater Repaired tomofholland visiblemending

Extreme slow stitching – I always say I like to do things that take forever, but a six-year project must be my record!

Nowadays many people choose to throw out worn clothes, but I prefer to repair my clothes. From attending the MEND*RS Symposium it was clear I was not the only one. A few speakers had a background in fashion, and we talked about the issues around fast fashion. Clothes made in the fast fashion system are often of poor quality. Not because they are made by low-skilled people, but because highly-skilled people have to work with inferior materials and are under huge time pressure to meet deadlines. For me, repairing clothes is a way of honouring those anonymous makers. Speaking about my concerns with fast fashion at that symposium, and others such as John-Paul Flintoff and Sarah Corbett, I have come to realise that being informed about issues your concerned about is very important. It will help with focussing your attention to things you can do something about. This is something I spoke about with Sarah at length as part of her School of Gentle Protest.

MUM+DAD Sweater Repaired tomofholland visiblemending

The ribbing at cuffs and welts were the trickiest

Concerns around fast fashion is only one of many different motivations of repair, and I’m also very much interested in emotional connections to the item repaired. Mending an item, even through commissioning someone like me, allows you to highlight the story behind it, and one of my most favourite commissions was rather poignant. Mending a jumper knitted by a mother repaired a somewhat fraught relationship, and it was very special to work on.

MUM+DAD Sweater Repaired tomofholland visiblemending

Reminiscing about repairs

Likewise my green jumper has obtained a lot of memories and stories through the six years I’ve been working on it. Looking at the darns up close shows me how I have improved my technique over time. It has accompanied me to every single workshop, talk, and darning event. It started many a conversation about the meaning of repair, and I’ve made many friends as a result.

The sweater is now back on rotation in me and my husband’s wardrobe, and I’m looking forward to many more adventures together!

MUM+DAD Sweater Repaired silly pose tomofholland visiblemending

With many thanks to Anna “Sweaterspotter” Maltz for the impromptu photoshoot!

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Rachel Atkinson is a daughter of a shepherd, and in 2016 she launched a yarn range spun from the fleeces of the flock of sheep her father shepherds in Yorkshire. I enjoy working with wool produced on a small scale: you know where it comes from, how the sheep are looked after, and supporting small producers and makers in their endeavours. I was very enthusiastic about Daughter of a Shepherd yarn, and couldn’t wait to knit a jumper out of it!

Note: all pictures copyright with Rachel Atkinson/Daughter of a Shepherd, and used with kind permission

Daughter of a Shepherd Beginnings book cover

Daughter of a Shepherd, volume 1: beginnings

So when Rachel asked me to be part of her first book – Daughter of a Shepherd, volume 1: beginnings – I felt honoured. Little did I realise at the time that my enthusiasm had been so important to Rachel as validation of her project, which, when you read the book, you will realise took a lot of personal investment from her. I’m so pleased to see that Rachel has become a champion of small-scale wool producers. She now not only sells her own yarn, but also collaborates with others; not only limited edition yarns, but also a carefully curated selection of books, hand lotions and totes, amongst others.

Beilby Scarf in Daughter of a Shepherd yarn

My contribution to Rachel’s book: the Beilby scarf

Rachel’s Hebridean/Zwartbles yarn may be of the richest dark chocolate brown imaginable, it still shows up a nice stitch definition, and as I’m still enamoured by the Sequence Knitting technique, I thought it was worth exploring again in this scarf. In sequence knitting you repeat a simple sequence of knit and purl stitches over and over again to create complex textures. As with the Hexa Hap I designed for Kate Davies, I wanted to make something truly reversible, and in addition, strictly stick to the sequence I had devised for this scarf.

Beilby Scarf in Daughter of a Shepherd yarn

A sideways knitted scarf, with increase and decrease sections

The Beilby scarf is knitted sideways, divided into triangular sections separated by garter-stitch columns with a slip stitch to highlight the border between sections and columns. Although sections either end with a decrease in every row, or an increase in every row, the knit/purl sequence is the same for each section.

Beilby Scarf in Daughter of a Shepherd yarn

Cast-on and cast-off edges look the same, as do the slip stitch selvedges for a finished look

I used a cast-on technique that matches the cast-off technique, and these match the slip stitch selvedges, so all edges look the same and give the scarf a professional finish. This also means it takes some scrutiny to work out which way it was knitted, something I secretly take a lot of pleasure in!

BEILBY SCARF
Worked lengthways in long rows, a clever sequence-knit pattern repeat forms the triangular segments within this scarf.

SIZE
One size: 22cm / 8½” deep x 210cm / 82½” long

YARN 
Daughter of a Shepherd Hebridean & Zwartbles DK (DK / light worsted weight; 75% Hebridean wool, 25% Zwartbles wool; 233m / 255yds per 100g skein) x 3 skeins

TOOLS
• 3.75mm (UK 9 / US 5) circular needle, 150cm / 60” length
• 4mm (UK 10-9 / US 6) DPN or straight needle (for cast- off only)
• 4mm (UK 8 / US G/6) crochet hook for provisional cast-on
• 16 stitch markers – 8 of one type, 8 of another. These will be referred to as MA and MB.
• Smooth scrap yarn for provisional cast-on
• Tapestry needle

AVAILABILITY

The Beilby scarf is part of a collection of ten patterns, published in Daughter of a Shepherd, Volume 1: Beginnings. Hardcopy available here; PDF download available here.

 

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One of my favourite techniques for repairing woven textiles is the hemmed patch. old tea towels with hemmed patches

Old tea towels with hemmed patches

There are many repair techniques, and in “the olden days” it was deemed important that a repair would be as inconspicuous as possible. However, the least visible techniques are generally also the weakest, and for every item in need of repair, one had to weigh up strength against invisibility. One technique that makes for invisible repairs is the oversewn patch.

oversewn patch front

an unassuming piece of fabric with scalloped edges…

oversewn patch back

…turns out to be a oversewn patch sampler, showing many different shaped patches

This vintage sampler shows the oversewn patch technique in all its glory; as you can see, it’s possible to make a repair nigh on invisible. Not only can you perfectly match a pattern, the sewing technique used makes for a very smooth transition from background fabric to patch. On a blouse or shirt this would be a good technique to use, but if you want to repair tea towels, which get washed frequently, you’d soon end up with fraying seams, and very likely, new holes where the stitching isn’t quite strong enough to withstand the washing process.

A hemmed patch, on the other hand, encases the raw edges of the hole and patch inserted, and the double line of stitching ensures a strong repair. Of course, it is still possible to match the pattern, but the hem will always show up. My favourite books on mending will discuss the pros and cons of each technique, taking these kind of things into account.

hemmed patch pattern match

Pattern-matched hemmed patch

When I first started using the hemmed patch, I was lucky to have a number of tea towels in different colourways of the same weave pattern. It allowed me to pattern match, yet make the repair stand out even more through the use of different colours. I was intrigued by this disruption of the pattern, and I wanted to explore this concept further.

tomofholland tea towel the new craftsmen process 1

Vintage tea towel with stripes

I sourced a pile of striped vintage linen tea towels, cut patches from the striped sections of one sacrificial tea towel, and started playing around with different ways of disrupting the stripes. The end result hints at other design possibilities for weaving the fabric used for these towels.

tom of holland the new craftsmen tea towel 3

Red and green stripes disrupted

multi colour tea towel

Bold stripes call for a bold approach to patching

Tom-of-holland-the-new-craftsmen-tea-towel-7-590x590

Vintage tea towels with hemmed patch, available at The New Craftsmen

It was hard to stop, so I made a whole pile of these towels, and the green and red striped ones are exclusively available through The New Craftsmen.

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I’m pleased to let you all know that I will be running a Creative Mending workshop at The New Craftsmen, on 22 July, as part of their summer exhibition Animal, Vegetable, Mineral – a joyful celebration of new talents and new pieces.

Workshop at Wool House

A Tom of Holland workshop in full swing

I started working with The New Craftsmen last year, and as a result I’ve been involved in some pretty exciting things, such as Makers House, in collaboration with Burberry, and A Home For All, in collaboration with Selfridges.

The New Craftsmen curates, commissions and sells unique contemporary objects that are rooted in craftsmanship and narrative. Spanning furniture, lighting, textiles, gifts, ceramics and decorative accessories, our range is made by a growing network of over 100 makers across the British Isles.

The Creative Mending workshop at The New Craftsmen will be informed by some of the pieces I made for the summer exhibition; Sue Parker, the stylist behind the exhibition, asked me to visibly mend three boilersuits, which will be for sale:

Tom of Holland boilersuit for The New Craftsmen, with braided belt

Boilersuit with braided belt (VMP09)

Besides a few holes, which I repaired with classic darns, he first boilersuit also had a broken zipper, which presented me with an exciting challenge: how do I visibly mend a broken closure? After removing the zipper I tried out a few things, but ended up using a braid as a belt. The seam allowance that was exposed after removing the zipper has been stitched down with small stitches, echoing the zipper teeth.

Tom of Holland boilersuit for The New Craftsmen, with braided belt, detail

Detail showing the stitches, reminiscent of the zipper teeth. Each boilersuit has a serial number stitched in

Tom of Holland boilersuit for The New Craftsmen, with oversewn patches

Boilersuit with oversewn patches (VMP10)

The second boilersuit had some paint stains, rather than holes, and here I used hand-dyed fabrics that were stained during the dyeing process. Instead of stitching them over the paint stains, I placed them in each others’ vicinity, thus reinforcing the presence of stains on the various fabrics.

Tom of Holland boilersuit for The New Craftsmen, with oversewn patches, detail

Stains of various kinds reinforce each other’s presence; the patches are inserted using the oversewn patching technique

The third boilersuit had paint stains, missing buttons, a fraying cuff, and some busted armhole seams.

Tom of Holland boilersuit for The New Craftsmen, with textured layers

Backview of boilersuit with patched cuff, boro-inspired decorations, and replaced buttons (VMP11)

All the stitching and repairing on this boilersuit used a hand-dyed silk thread, which was a dream to sew with. In addition to repairing the busted seams and sewing on new buttons, I really wanted to try out some boro-inspired techniques, where the simple running stitches create a ripple effect in the fabric.

Tom of Holland boilersuit for The New Craftsmen, with textured layers, detail

Boro-inspired patches; the silk patch in particular shimmers as a result of the ripple effect of the simple running stitches

I turned accidental paint stains into acts of intention by outlining them with small back stitches.

Tom of Holland boilersuit for The New Craftsmen, with textured layers, detail of stain

Turning accidental paint stains into intentional decorations by outlining them in back stitch

As you can see, the three boilersuits each have a different focus in their repairs, and highlight in one way or another what needed repairing. Another thing it highlights is the question: when does something require a repair? One of the boilersuits had merely some paint stains, and in this case, the repair wasn’t something that was broken, but more about how you would be able to wear this garment.

This Creative Mending workshop at The New Craftsmen will not purely focus on technique: not only will I teach you some simple repair techniques through making a small repair sampler, but I also look much forward to having a conversation around visible and creative mending with everybody.

All images by The New Craftsmen, and used with their kind permission

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As part of my mending journey I wanted to go back to basics, and follow some old Dutch lesson plans about teaching young girls the ins and outs of marking household linen, and repairing of clothes and linens. The lesson plan I’m using the most, was originally written in 1888, although my edition is from 1916. Larger homes contained considerable quantities of household linen and undergarments, and in order to be able to return everything to its correct place after laundring, they were usually marked with initials and a number. You can read more about it on the always interesting Textilis blog here, including some beautiful examples.

 

Marking sampler from the Whitelands College Collection

Granted, I do not require my linens and undergarments to be marked for wash day, so I could’ve skipped the chapter on marking and go straight for the chapters on repair, but in order to gain a deeper understanding of the methods employed in this book, I decided to spend some time on marking as well. And it turns out that just reading through the chapter, and actually following the instructions are two rather different experiences.

Vrouwelijke Handwerken Sampler

Making a start with the darning sampler, using scrim, crewel wool, and my notebook

The chapter starts with stating that the marking of linen is such a well-known needlecraft, a chapter on its techniques can almost be considered superfluous to requirements. Nevertheless, an outline of how to approach teaching this in a classroom was considered of interest by the authors.

And so it begins: what fabric to use (a loose-weave linen or canvas that is easily counted), what thread (start off with embroidery wool), how to attach the thread, how to finish it. I availed myself of some scrim (nowadays only really used for cleaning windows I think) and some crewel wool. The first steps are easy: a simple border in cross stitch, by making all the crosses in a straight line. This is worked from left to right.

vrouwelijke handwerken sampler, notebook

Sampler in progress, starting with simple cross stitch borders, before progressing to the letters

However, the next few borders are more complex, and here the advise is to work them from right to left. The lesson plan briefly discusses that sometimes it’s best to complete a cross before moving on to the next one, and at other times, you can work them in two journeys, first working one half of the crosses, then the other half on the way back. The emphasis is on keeping things neat and tidy at the back. This makes sense, as you don’t want to have long floats at the back which might get caught during the laundry process.

I tried out various ways with the more complex borders, exploring in which cases it seemed to be better to complete a whole cross, and in which cases it seemed better, or easier, to do them in two journeys. Unsurprisingly, this is different for each border. The lesson plan refers to another book by the same author, which apparently goes into greater detail on cross stitch, but unfortunately, I don’t own that.

Right side of the sampler

After stitching those more complex borders from right to left, it was time to tackle the letters. The book advises you to slowly work your way up from the easiest letters, with mainly vertical elements (I, H, M, N) to the more complex letters (J, L, T, F, E, P, B, R, K, D) followed by those with strong diagonal elements (A, V, W, X, Y, Z) and the most complex ones of all, those with curves (U, C, G, O, Q, S). As the emphasis is on building up the complexity, they writers strongly advise against simply stitching the letters in alphabetical order.

Reading this all made perfect sense to me. However, it’s a different matter in practice: where one was encouraged to keep the floats as short as possible at the back for the border motifs, mostly trying to keep them to short horizontal or vertical dashes, the way it describes how to stitch the letters, is very different. Suddenly we’re back to stitching from left to right, and for most of the letters, it advises you to work them in two journeys. This gives for different floats at the back: some are diagonal, and sometimes they are rather long as well.

wrong side of vrouwelijke handwerken sampler, showing floats

Wrong side of the sampler, showing floats

So far the “take-away” lesson seems to be: do what you think works best, and keep the floats short at the back. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there is no one method that will work perfectly every time. That said, I have seen some samplers where the back looks much neater than mine, so clearly there’s is more to learn! When I have found out more, I will share it here with you.

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In my quest to learn the fine points of hand-sewing and using a tailor’s thimble, I spent an amazing afternoon with the Military Finisher for Gieves & Hawkes, Ms Jules Walker.

Military finisher for Gieves and Hawkes Ms Jules Walker

Military Finisher for Gieves & Hawkes, Ms Jules Walker. You can also see Bob the tailor in the background

I learnt so much more during this afternoon than just about hand-sewing techniques in tailoring. Savile Row is a very special community of craftspeople, and there are many specialised jobs. Jules, for instance, is a finisher, specialising in military uniforms. Then there are the cutters and tailors: the cutter is the person who will measure a client, advise on style details, and cut out the cloth accordingly. The tailor is the person who will actually stitch the suit. Depending on the price point, this may involve a lot of hand-stitching. Once the suit has been stitched and the lining has been constructed and basted in place, the garment is passed on to the finisher, who will put in all the finishing touches: make the buttonholes, sew in the lining, etc. As a military finisher, Jules will also make the ranking stripes by hand and sew them on, and any other specialised military uniform embellishments, such as cords and braids. Almost everything Jules does, she does by hand, so she was a perfect teacher for me.

Hand sewing lining into a suit, Military finisher for Gieves and Hawkes Ms Jules Walker

Jules demonstrating the felling stitch on a scrap, used for inserting the lining in a suit

It was a bit scary to show my hand-sewing skills as they are to a professional, especially because I have taught myself from books and the internet. The most important thing for me was to know whether I was using my tailor’s thimble correctly, as this seemed such a controversial topic when I posted about it previously. It turned out I had no need to be worried. Unsurprisingly, first and foremost it’s about doing a lot of practice, and finding a way that works for you. I knew this already about knitting, but somehow this hadn’t quite translated into sewing in my head. So I was very pleased to find out I only need a few small tweaks to my technique, and just get stitching.

This meant I could move on to one of my favourite details on hand-made suits: the tailored buttonhole. Jules and one of the tailors were renovating a mess dress, originally bought from Gieves & Hawkes in 1959. The main job was already completed: replacing the grosgrain silk facing of the lapels. This meant that the original buttonholes had to be re-made, which comes with its own challenges, as the fabric has been stitched before, and therefore wasn’t quite so stable as she would’ve liked.

Re-cutting a buttonhole, Military finisher for Gieves and Hawkes Ms Jules Walker

Re-cutting a buttonhole in new facing on an old jacket

I loved seeing all the tools that Jules had gathered. Like all of the best craftspeople I know, she has tried out all sorts of things for all the jobs she needs to do, some more traditional than others, and uses those that works best for her. Using a scalpel to cut a buttonhole was one of those things you wouldn’t expect, but it made so much sense.

Buttonhole stitching by Military finisher for Gieves and Hawkes Ms Jules Walker

Jules thumb nail is an important tool in itself: it helps her “break” the fabric at just the right point where she wants the needle to come out

Another surprising tool used by Jules and tailors are their fingernails. Jules uses her thumb nail a lot in order to guide the needle through the fabric, whereas some of the tailors have long nails on their little finger: this helps them unpick stitching quickly! These were the kind of hints and tips you rarely find in a book or on the internet. Hand-sewing can be strain on your hands, so Jules showed me how she sits, and how the fabric will be moved around, rather than her hands, when going around curves etc. Whereas finishers usually sit down to do their job, tailors prefer to stand, and have a higher work surface (see first picture in this post.)

Front of buttonhole re-made by Military finisher for Gieves and Hawkes Ms Jules Walker

The front of the re-stitched buttonhole, fresh off the needle. A certain amount of fraying is unavoidable when renovating

Back of buttonhole re-made by Military finisher for Gieves and Hawkes Ms Jules Walker

And the back of this renovated buttonhole

The real skill of a finisher, however, is not so much the ability to stitch one beautiful thing, but to repeat this feat of perfection over and over and over again. Needless to say, when she was still training, Jules spent a lot of time practicing her stitching. She showed me a number of her buttonhole samplers. They were beautiful objects in themselves, and they gave me a lot of inspiration. Note: if you want to see the below picture in closer detail, simply click on them to see a larger version.

Buttonhole practice (front) by Military finisher for Gieves and Hawkes Ms Jules Walker

Practice, practice, practice! Jules’s large sampler is early work, whereas the small sampler is sheer perfection

Buttonhole practice (back) by Military finisher for Gieves and Hawkes Ms Jules Walker

For a Savile Row tailor every little detail counts, including things hidden from sight

I think it’s clear that my job is cut out for me: practice, practice, practice! The most important tip here was: concentrate on technique and consistency first, and speed will follow. With many thanks to Jules for sharing her knowledge so generously; I’ve learnt so much, and I have even more respect for the highly skilled craftspeople on Savile Row than I already had. Now, where is my sampler and buttonhole twist!?!

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Between Christmas and New Year, I always reflect on the year gone by, and the year ahead. 2016 has been a really good year for me personally, and I have plenty of exciting things to look forward to in 2017. Looking back at 2016, I noticed some themes running through the last year: conversing, making, and collaborating.

Detail of sampler made by Witteridge, Whitelands College Collection

A darn made to emulate a jersey (machine knitted) fabric, which is made by stem stitching over foundation threads that go across the hole, from the Whitelands College Collection

Conversing: throughout the year I’ve been given opportunities to talk about my practice, sharing my ideas and views on the importance of mending. I was honoured to have been asked to give the keynote speech at Cultures of Repair: Past and Present, a one-day conference to conclude A Remedy for Rents, an exhibition of darning samplers from the Whitelands College Collection.

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Chatting about stitching, with Luke Deverall, Stewart Easton, and Trevor Pitt, the BOY STITCHERS (picture by Stewart Easton)

A completely different setting was At Home, A 21st Century Salon, which included BOY STITCHERS: “Until quite recently in human history, a lady’s needlework was a sign of being a good and virtuous woman. BOY STITCHERS reverses this stereotypical image and shines light on a new breed of male stitchers, exploring the work of Trevor Pitt, Stewart Easton, Luke Deverall and myself, who together talk about and demonstrate their artistic approaches to working with textiles.”

Makers House Leather Trench Coat Repair

Hiding a penmark on a leather trench coat by sewing on a silk patch, using one of the new Burberry SS17 fabrics

A completely different setting again: in September I was invited by The New Craftsmen and Burberry to take part in Makers House, as part of Burberry’s September Collection presentation. The September collection was in part inspired by craft and making, and Makers House celebrated this by inviting a number of makers to show and share their skills to the public in an enchanting pop-up venue.

Making: apart from talking about my visible mending work, I’ve also been making things. Some of it knitting, some of it mending, and some of it inbetween.

Hexa Hap Shawl

Hexa Hap in Kate Davies’s Buachaille yarn, published her Book of Haps (picture by Tom Barr, Kate Davies Designs)

Although strictly speaking I knitted the Hexa Hap in 2015, the pattern for it was written and published in Kate Davies’s Book of Haps in 2016. I thoroughly enjoyed working on my contribution to this book, as it gave me a good insight in professional pattern writing and publishing.

Boxpleat Jumper in Daughter of a Shepherd Hebridean Yarn

Boxpleat Jumper in Daughter of a Shepherd Hebridean yarn, with accents in madder-dyed Shetland yarn (picture by Jeni Reid/Small Window)

Sequence Sweater Arms Wide Open

Sequence Sweater, using The Uncommon Thread’s Blue-faced Leicester

I remain inspired by Cecelia Campochiaro’s Sequence Kniting, and I made two jumpers using stitch patterns from this book. The first one was the Sequence Sweater for my then husband-to-be. The second one the Boxpleat Jumper for myself. There will be more where that came from, but I will not be able to share this with you until some time next year!

Me and My Husband, handmade tie and pocket squares

Signing the register in style

When I got married in November, I was keen for us to wear something I had made myself. My sewing skills as they are, would not allow me to make a suit, so I made things that were within my skills: matching pocket squares for both of us, and a tie for me. The pocket squares were made from a very light linen fabric, which I finished with hand-rolled edges, and embellished with stripes in feather stitch, using silk. I also knitted myself a tie, using a custom-dyed skein of British Stein Fine Wool by The Little Grey Sheep, and lined it with some vintage Italian silk.

Collaborating: something I haven’t spoken about much as yet, but which, I’m sure, will be a very fruitful collaboration, is that I have recently joined The New Craftsmen makers. They work with a selection of Britain’s finest craft makers to showcase the skills and craft products of the British Isles. The New Craftsmen present objects that are deeply connected to culture and place, while representing a vision of sustainable, real luxury, expressed through dedication to makers, materials, method and design.

Vintage Repaired Blanket for The New Craftsmen

Blanket B02: a vintage Welsh narrow loom blanket, repaired with a variety of techniques

So far I’ve made a small collection of repaired vintage blankets, patched French linen tea towels, and Sanuqhar pencil cases (note: not all my products are in the webshop at the moment.) As mentioned before, when The New Craftsmen were asked by Burberry to celebrate the craftsmanship that inspired their SS17 collection, I was invited along to repair items of clothing brought in by visitors to Makers House, using fabrics from the new collection. We are already chatting about a new project, which I will share in due time.

Merken, Stoppen en Mazen (marking and darning) lesson plan from the 1880s

A Dutch lesson plan on darning fabrics

This brings me neatly to what I’m looking forward to in 2017. Not only will I be working more with and for The New Craftsmen, I also have some other projects under wraps. Frustratingly, I cannot talk about any of those right now. Patience is a virtue! Meanwhile, I what I can talk about is my personal projects, and I’m keen to share progress about these here on my blog. First and foremost, I’ve bought some scrim (a loosely woven coarse linen fabric, nowadays really only used for cleaning windows) to start working my way through some old Dutch lesson plans for needlework, and in particular repairing and darning. Going back to basics will ground my understanding of techniques, and it’s also a good time to start getting to grips with using a tailor’s thimble.thimbles at The Lace Factory Museum

A selection of thimbles from the collection at The Lace Factory Museum, Horst, The Netherlands

I’ve received many comments on my thimbles blog post, both here, on my Facebook page, and on Instagram about how others got on with thimbles, and alternatives to the traditional metal thimble. It would seem that many people dislike the traditional thimble, and have sought alternatives that suited them better; particularly the leather thimble got mentioned frequently. For now, however, I will persevere with the tailor’s thimble. Yes, it will take time to unlearn my old sewing technique, but I’m attracted to the speed that tailors can stitch very neatly, using methods that have stood the test of time, and which will also be a way of learning more about hand-stitching and tailoring. I doubt I will ever become as good as a tailor on Savile Row, but I can learn from them and apply those things that will take my textile practice to the next level.

Make Do and Mend notebook with Patch

Notes from a Make Do and Mend class, from the Mass Observation collection, where I taught a workshop earlier this year

I’m looking forward to sharing my projects and thoughts on my blog, and I hope you will feel inspired to try out new things, start stitching, knitting, or visibly mending your own clothes.

Happy New Year!

 

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In my last blog post I spoke about my intention to learn how to use a thimble. I have mentioned before that I enjoy hand-finishing my sewing projects, such as hand-worked buttonholes, inserting a lining, and even whip stitching seams to stop the edges from ravelling. This is in part because I use an old Singer 201k treadle sewing machine that can only do straight stitches, but it is also because I enjoy the act of hand-stitching.

woollen trousers, hand-picked fly

Woollen trousers with prick-stitched fly and hand-worked buttonhole

Sewing is much quicker than knitting, and many sewers that I know are amazed about the amount of hand-stitching I do, because “it takes forever!” However, compared to knitting, all this hand-stitching is done in a jiffy! Slowly but surely working my way towards having only hand-made clothes, leading to more hand-stitching, has increased my interest in tailoring, and the accompagnying hand-stitching. And even if I might never become an expert in tailoring, I can take away those bits that will work for me. So far, I’ve not used a thimble, but the drawback is that my fingertips are shredded to bits by the sewing needle, so it’s time to learn from tailors, and use a thimble.

Thimbles, needles, beeswax

Thimbles, needles, and beeswax: the traditional tailor’s tools. Shown here are two plain closed-top dressmaker’s thimbles, one closed-top souvenir thimble from Belfast, one open-topped tailor’s thimble, and at the far right, a leather quilter’s thimble

Thimbles come in many shapes, forms, and materials. The traditional tailor’s thimble is made from metal, and has an open top. Dressmakers’ thimbles normally have a closed top. I have not been able to find out why there is a difference, but I think it might have to do with the sewing technique used. The tailor’s thimble goes on your middle finger, the needle is held between thumb and forefinger, and put into the fabric. The needle is then pushed through the fabric with your thimble-covered nail. In order to do this comfortably, your middle finger is actually curled up, sitting right behind the needle. Have a look at these videos by an expert tailor. Keeping your middle finger bent is the most difficult thing when learning to use a thimble the tailor’s way, so an old apprentice trick is to put a tie on your thimble to keep your finger in the right position.

thimble padssashiko thimble

Thimble pads, popular with quilters, and a sashiko thimble

I’m keen to learn to use a tailor’s thimble, but there are many other thimbles to choose from, such as a leather thimble, shown in one of the pictures above, “thimble pads” which are small stickers to stick to your finger, and sashiko thimbles, which are shoved right down your middle finger. The metal plate at the bottom protects the palm, as traditional sashiko uses a long needle which is threaded through the fabric multiple times before pushing it through with your hand, which isn’t much different from a sailor’s or sailmaker’s sewing palm.

the history of needlework tools and accessories book

The History of NEEDLEWORK TOOLS And Accessories, by Sylvia Groves

I will finish this blog post with some background information on thimbles, from Sylvia Groves’s The History of NEEDLEWORK TOOLS And Accessories (Country Life Books, The Hamlyn Publishing Group, Feltham, second impression 1968): the word thimble is derived from the Old English thymel, meaning a thumb stall. It was originally a small bell-shaped cap of leather, made to be worn on the thumb in sewing. She goes on to say that “Although this type of primitive protection continued in use in remote and isolated districts until quite recent times, the metal thimble displaced it in more civilised countries at a very early period.” With this being my only book in my library on needlework tools and accessories, what follows is from a very European-centric viewpoint, showing exactly which countries the author deemed civilised.

Thimbles of bronze have been found on the sites of Greek and Roman cities, such as Pompeii and Herculaneum, which were destroyed in 79 CE. They can be divided into two two types: one heavy, cast, and with the indentations irregularly placed; the other finely made from sheet metal, with indentations more neatly arranged and occasionally having an open top. A cast bronze ring, about a quarter of an inch deep, with three rows of indentations arrachged diamond-wise, served a similar purpose.

thimbles from the history of needlework tools and accessories

A fine collection of thimbles, finger protectors, and thimble cases (click on the picture for a larger image)

There are very few thimbles to found that can be confidently dated to befor the 16th century. Thimbles can be made from all sorts of metal, but in general, thimbles from the 17th and 18th century were often made of brass or steel, or sometimes a combination of the two. An open-topped steel thimble might be lined with brass. Alternatively, a silver thumble with a steel top might be obtained; the top stamped with indentations, was soldered on, and the silver might be engraved, or of open filligree. These thimbles were never intended to withstand the wear and tear of daylong sewing, but were reserved for fine needlework and social occasions.

For children, nests of thimbles were made fitting one on top of another and increasing gradually in size, to allow for growth. In the early Victorian era, there arose a fashion of ornamenting the sides of thimbles with representations in relief of famous buildings, bridges, and other well-known landmarks; they were sold as souvenirs to tourists who were increasing in number owing to the developments in railway travelling.

There are a very large number of antique thimbles to be found, made from all sorts of materials. Their shape provides little indication of their date: those made during the last three or four centuries may be either short and flat topped, or long, tapering and domed, according the the fashion at the time or the whim of the maker. Mother-of-pearl thimbles came from France; glass from Bohemia or Venice. Wooden thimbles came from Germany and Austria, where they were bought as souvenirs by tourists, but they are by no means common as wood is a soft material unsuitable for practical use in sewing. Complete thimbles without indentations, fashioned from horn, ivory or tortoiseshell, may occasionally be found; they are, in fact, finger guards and were worn on the first fingers of the left hand to protect it from the continual prick of the needle’s point. When these guards were made of metal, part of the top was cut away diagonally, leaving only the rim entire.

Wish me luck in my thimble journey: I think it will take me a while to unlearn my old hand-sewing technique, and learn a new one, but I will persevere and report back, so keep an eye out for my next blog post!

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