WHEN our minds are beset by autumn’s bluster and winter’s chills, our thoughts inexorably turn to layers. The layers of clothing with which we envelop our frames, to warm and to protect and to sculpt. And the layers of the land, the sediments laid down in the earth like a historical record by the accreted actions of ordinary men and women. This landscape is a neverending work in progress, shaped by toil, ploughed and restructured and built upon where needed.
We reject the unsustainable turnover of flighty fashionistas, who rework themselves in transient faddery with every passing season! Our revolution is an evolution, incremental and rugged like the very land itself! The steadfast patterns of industry and labour are our bedrock, lying beneath everything we do. The spirit of the soil imbues our palette with tones of peat and clay and slate, and permeates the very materials of our trade, the sandblasted silks, the highland wools, the waxed cottons that protect against the harsh elements. In appliquéd clusters of felted cloth, we summon up the topography of the eternal landscape and wear it on our sleeves. This is our terrain – explore it!