Lambswool has a resilience that rewards being worn without ceremony. Ours is grade A, sorted to 55–80 millimetres and 17–21 microns, then woven through a traditional twenty-nine-step process in a 250-year-old heritage mill.
The length of the fibre gives the cloth its character. A lon. . .
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Lambswool has a resilience that rewards being worn without ceremony. Ours is grade A, sorted to 55–80 millimetres and 17–21 microns, then woven through a traditional twenty-nine-step process in a 250-year-old heritage mill.
The length of the fibre gives the cloth its character. A long staple holds itself together under tension, and the natural crimp within it means a scarf can be knotted, packed and worn daily yet still recover its shape overnight. Soft, warm and breathable, it keeps both its surface and its colour through years of ordinary use.
The twenty-nine steps that follow are largely a matter of handle. The cloth is washed and milled to raise a fine surface that holds air without adding weight, then pressed, checked against daylight and finished at the fringe by hand. None of it can be hurried, which is why the sequence has changed so little in the time the mill has been running.
Plain colours sit under a suit or an overcoat and are noticed by nobody, which is usually what is wanted. The Scottish designs — Stewart, Black Watch, Mackellar, the single thistle — carry more, and are better against a plain coat than layered into pattern. Worn open down the front, or knotted once at the throat and left alone.
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