allkat24 – Page 2 – Kathryn's Field Study

Elements of Traditional Aran Dress/Textiles

In order to truly understand the evolution of textiles in the colonized British Isles, it is important to look at some of the indigenous cultures that played an integral role in the evolution of textiles in that region and globally. Because the societies of both Ireland and Scotland have some very distinguished differences per county and region, I will not be able to cover ever single element of traditional dress in Ireland and Scotland. I will, however, cover one of the more significant textile cultures that has come up in my research time and time again – that being of the Aran Islands.

The Aran Islands are a small archipelago that sits just off of the costs of Co. Clare and Co. Galway. Due largely to their isolated nature and lack of significant resources, British colonization and Western influence did not quite make it to the islands until relatively recently. In fact, the population of the Aran Islands alone makes up for a very solid portion of the population that speak Irish as their native tongue. With modernization and new modes of transportation there is much more back and forth between the mainland and the islands now and a movement away from traditional dress has already occured, however, they remain a culture of their own and have a rich history of unique traditional dress.

Image result for Historic Aran jumper — Aran men wearing ganseys. Image source here.

The most notable contribution of Aran culture is the “Aran Knit Jumper,” or “ganseys” as they’re called in Irish. This design was and still is an element of men’s traditional wear – specifically that of the fishermen of the island. A common tale is that different patterns in the cable knit sweater signified different Irish families so that a fisherman’s body could be recognized if found washed ashore, and another less popular one is that they symbolized different charms. There is not an exact record of when the gansey became a staple of Aran wear, however, the myths of the significance of family patterns has been traced back to a J.M. Synge play where a woman recognizes her lover’s body by a dropped stitch in the garment she knitted him. This play was written in 1904, and it is likely that those already producing Aran knits for sale used it as a clever marketing snippet.

There are lots of different folk stories surrounding Aran sweaters, and what wasn’t true before seems to have fibbed its way into truth in the modern era. What is particularly historic and special about the knits from this region is that they are not scoured to remove the lanolin from the wool before spinning. This creates a yarn that is much harder to work with, but also adds a water resistant quality to the garment that is knitted for it – which is important for an economy that was historically based on fishing in incredibly rough, stormy weather.

Since its widespread marketing starting in the early 20th century, Aran sweaters have become arguably the most recognizable aspect of Irish fashion. Today, Blarney Woolen mills takes over the tourist market in Ireland, while globally, companies like L.L Bean have created lines using aran knits and fast fashion stores like H&M and Forever 21 have created knits that mimic the traditional cable knit pattern. Through all its expansion, in order to be called a true Aran knit sweat, the garments still must be hand knit in the Aran islands.

Image result for crios belt — A crios belt being woven. Image by David Shaw-Smith.

Moving away from the more globally recognized products, most people are surprised to discover how colorful the tradition lady’s dress is. This is mostly because of the monopoly that ganseys have on Aran clothing in the public eye. In reality, however, the only reason that those sweaters are not dyed is because they are the equivalent of work wear anywhere else. Formal dress on the islands was much more detailed and colorful – specifically those for attending mass. A piece of clothing that is all but forgotten to the modern world is the ‘crios belt.’ According to David Shaw-Smith in his exploration of Irish crafts in Ireland’s Traditional Crafts crios belts were created by “stretching the warp threads between two chairs or stools – or, more traditionally, between one hand and one foot, tying the ends to the shoe – making the length 3 1/1 yards if the crios is to be worn by a man and 2 yards if by a woman. It is customary to have two white threads on each outside selvedge, using perhaps five or six different colors between.” (Shaw-Smith, p. 27) These garments were often worn on wedding days and were even used to bind the wedded couple’s hands together. Like with any traditional garment, these belts were dyed using natural materials from the islands; mainly mosses and lichens from the shores.

Today, the globalization of the textile chain has unfortunately made the textile traditions of the Aran Islands a bit less about creating something that is of the islands in its essence, and more about creating a product that can be marketed as such. In the case of Aran jumpers, the wool is often from sheep that are raised and sheared in Australia – one of the world’s top wool producers – and processed into roving (and sometimes dyed) in China. It isn’t until the actual spinning and knitting portion of the chain that the fiber makes its way to Ireland to become the product that is world famous for being conceived on the islands. Unfortunately, the islands (nor the mainland itself) do not have the resources to create a product that is easily digestible for tourists looking to bring home each and every family member a jumper at less than 100 euro each. In some ways, the sweater and tourism industry has revolutionized the rough life that used to be part of the Aran Islands and has made life so much more comfortable for the people who call them their home. Unfortunately, some of the narrative of the true tradition has been lost along the way.

An example of the Tweed Project’s traditional textile with modern design. The “short gillet.” Taken from the shop’s online store.

In another way, many young Irish fashion designers are working to bring back some of the depth of tradition in their designs while not necessarily stubbornly holding onto the past. An example of that would be the Tweed Project, a two person designer team based in Galway city. In their designs, they have payed homage to traditional aspects of Irish dress like the crios belt and tweed (of course) while still embracing modern aspects of the fashion world. Perhaps the most revolutionary aspect of this design is that they have chosen to look inward for suppliers. Instead of producing designs that are the poster child for what “traditional” Irish dress looks like for tourists to consume, they are not afraid to be unique with designs while still supporting local crafts people from fleece to frock. In this way, they are respecting the true narrative of traditional dress – not in the design but in the creation.

Notable Concept: Spinning (Overview)

Now that my introductory spinning course is over, I feel a bit more equipped to try to tackle the great subject that is spinning. This notable concept post is going to cover the basic history and methods through which spinning is done, but more extensive notes can be found in my annotated bibliography. My main focus or goal in this research project is not necessarily on the history of this art, but I believe understanding the history and evolution of textile crafts is pivotal to tracking where the modern, Western textile industry has gone wrong. In the same way, it pays homage to cultures that have been doing things sustainably and therefore prevents the adoption of ideas without giving credit where credit is due.

History:

When it comes to the global history of spinning, I have found that different societies and cultures have progressed it both interchangeably with others, as well as completely separate. It seems that some inventions, take the spinning wheel, for instance, made their way across oceans and to different societies by means of communication while other discoveries seem to have progressed alongside each other without actually having any direct influence. I believe that a “complete” history of spinning is rather unattainable given how universal and ancient of a practice it is. However, separating histories by society tends to lend itself to a more complete history than by simply trying to regard it as one singular, global practice. I believe that this applies to any textile craft, which is why I have chosen to separate my studies into different cultures. With that being said, I will try to provide a general history of the aspects of spinning that are universal, or have been universally distributed before breaking into more extensive histories by society.

Historical Overview –

It is believed that the spinning of fiber into string has occurred amongst humans throughout the world for approximating the past 15,000 years. The earliest method of spinning was through the handspindle – I’ll add here the symbolism of how many spinners (including myself) first learn on the handspindle before graduating on to the wheel. In fact, the drop spindle (a form of handspindle) was used for spinning for the first thousands of years of practice. It is believed, but not confirmed, that the drop spindle was invented in ancient Egypt and made its way throughout the rest of the world.

It wasn’t until around 500 – 800 CE that the spinning wheel was invented in West Asia, very likely in India. Usually, this is operated by a pedal which allows the spinner to have both hands free to manage fibers. The spinning wheel made its way over to Europe in the 13th century CE and was subject to a variety of adaptions throughout its use in daily life.

Image result for spinning jenny — Woman using a Spinning Jenny – invented by James Hargreaves in 1764.

The Industrial Revolution’s beginning in the late 18th century saw the Spinning Jenny invented by James Hargreaves in England. This invention is credited with beginning the great shift of the textile craft from cottage industries to full blown mills. This has since evolved into full-scale spinning mills that have relocated in places all over the globe and was the first step in the sudden cease in production of hand spun fiber in Western textiles.

Spinning in the British Isles:

Spinning is known to have taken place in the British Isles for at least the past 3000 years. Though, once again, the spinning wheel would have not made its way to the Isles until the late Middle Ages/Early Renaissance. Like in many cultures, the art of spinning was considered to be a woman’s craft and often accompanied the symbolic shift from girlhood to womanhood.

photo wool spinning in ireland_zpsvjczbiym.jpg — Spinning on a ‘the great wheel’. (source)

In Ireland and Scotland specifically, the spinning wheel was adopted into every day life and became a massive part in the growth of cottage industries such as Donegal yarn and Harris Tweed. Traditionally, the most common fibers spun in these areas were wool and flax. Over time, different mechanisms where adapted to best suit productivity.

Carding Wool and Spinning with a Castle Wheel, Antrim — Wool spinning on a flax wheel. (source)

When the flax wheel was brought to co. Donegal (nearly 6000 where imported in order to promote the growth of the linen industry), it was adapted in order to spin wool and became an element of social life in rural Donegal.

Spinning in India:

The spinning wheel is thought to have been invented in India somewhere in between 500 and 1000 AD and has since been subject to quite a few changes both through industrialization and through the Swadeshi movement in the early 20th century.

Europe had a colonial presence in India directly after the Moghal Rule in the 16th century, though Britain did not rule it as a colony until the early 1700’s. Through this colonization, Britain shifted the economy from finished spun products to raw materials. This, alongside new laws that limited the profitability of Indian-spun textiles, limited the advancement of spinning beyond industrial machinery brought in by England for some time.

Image result for bardoli charkha — Man spins on a bardoli charkha. (source)

When the Indian independence movement came into full swing in the early 1900’s and Gandhi began promoting the Swadeshi movement, a new spotlight was shone on textiles that were hand spun and woven outside of the Western mode of production. Through this, the charkha saw new modes of creation that were designed to keep up with more modern production demands. Because Gandhi advocated for increased productivity of the spinning wheel an improved version of a wheel called ‘Bardoli Charkha’ was created by standardizing parts to increase productivity:

1) the circumference of the driving wheel was fixed

2) Bush bearings were provided in the center of driving wheel to facilitate its easy rotation around the axle of the wheel

3) Spindles with pully were used for spinning to reduce slippage

4) fixed pegs, against which the revolving spindle rested, were replaced by Modhia with grooves for spindle’s smooth movement

5) Spindles of different diameter (numbers) were prescribed for spinning yarn of different counts

6) Flange was provided in the spindle to facilitate proper winding of yarn on it.

7) Cushions of cotton twine were provided in the grooves for spindle’s smooth revolutions.

Image result for kisan charkha — Kasturba Ghandi spins on a kisan charkha. (source)

Even with the improvements made to the traditional wheel, it was still limited in terms of RPM. So, a new, vertical model of the charkha called the kisan charkha came to be. Through the work done to increase the productivity of handspinning, artisans across India are now able to hold their own against textile mills.

Letter Back to Wendell Barry

Letter Back to a Farmer

Wendell,

First, I want to say that I appreciate you taking the time to communicate your thoughts on matters I’m sure are very important to you. I realize it must be hard to try to pack years of knowledge and opinions into a short letter and I do respect that. I think it’s easy for us young farmers to feel like it is our responsibility to understand each and every one of the injustices that have occurred since the Industrial Revolution, so having older farmers willing to share their wisdom and demonstrate their learning curve gives me a lot of hope.

I was actually quite surprised and rather grateful to see someone mention the current state of Appalachia and what exactly big name farming industries have done to the spirit of the community there. It isn’t a subject I hear spoken on or named too frequently in the grand sphere of the discussion on agriculture. Unfortunately, it seems that poverty there has created a perpetual state of purposelessness. I think you hit the nail on the head when you said “without connection to the land, people become useless to themselves and to one another except by the intervention of money. Everything they need must be bought. Things they cannot buy they do not have.” Reading it stated so clearly really helped me to understand the cycle of poverty that that region is experiencing. They have no money because, like you said, their former jobs are being carried out by machinery, and they have no connection to each other or to the land because that very issue has made it quite impossible to make ends meet.

I do think, though, that the subject of land and belonging to the land is hard to approach without considering the history of the land and the people who inhabited it before us. Interestingly, when you mention that politicians and how the system that is currently in place is not coming to save the people of rural Kentucky, it makes me think of the indigenous communities who have likely been displaced from that very land and who also cannot count on the government that carried out that act of displacement to help. It does make me wonder what your take on how first peoples fit into the picture of North American community-oriented action. How do you approach the issue of colonialism and how it fits into where we stand now and do you think it has affected the way us settlers have viewed ourselves in relation to the land we inhabit?

On another subject, I did find your proposed solutions to our current predicament to be both helpful and amusing – amusing because if distrusting (see also: completely rejecting) the federal government and looking within your direct community to get things done isn’t truly an Appalachian way of looking at the world, then I don’t know what is. I did find the list to be very inspiring, though. I think that because a lot of us were raised within the industrialized system, it is easy to forget how much power us as individuals have because we are so used to belonging to a machine-cog mentality. In the same way, we are also unable to see any solutions other than working within that system because we were never raised to believe in our own capability of creating change. I do believe that this is only part of the issue though, and that there is quite an uphill journey when it comes to human rights and equity – because we are a country of over 300 million and while, our immediate communities are a perfect place to start the fight for food security and justice, the fight should not end at the county line. That is why I so greatly appreciate the willingness of farmers across the country to share their knowledge and thoughts on the current state of the agricultural world. Through that, all of you have helped me to see that my decision to become involved in farming and the origin of our food is one of the most simple acts of inspiring change and I hope to continue to be a part of this changing world for the rest of my life.

Kathryn Allen

The Cooking Gene Seminar

Word Count: 746

The Cooking Gene Seminar Ticket

“For all its familiar tropes, there are multiple Souths, not just one, just as there are multiple ways of being Southern.” (p. 7)

“I wanted to weep for the Irish. I have seen the bullet holes in the columns and walls all over Dublin. And yet it was the Irish buying into whiteness that gave birth to the minstrel show, draft riots during the Civil War where black people were lynched, and violence over schools busing in South Boston. There are no heroes here, just varying levels of power and responsibility.” (p. 384)

Reading The Cooking Gene by Michael W. Twitty was something of a surreal experience for me. My family has been in Virginia since they immigrated there in the 18th century and I grew up not thirty minutes away from where Twitty himself grew up. I recognized all the names of the counties, towns, and plantations that he mentioned. In fact, there was never a time while growing up in Virginia that I did not live more than a few miles away from a historic plantation – when I was homeschooled, visiting them was often part of my schooling and I have in fact heard the myth about slaves being made to whistle while carrying food many times before.

While reading Twitty’s accounts of his south and thinking about the way it was similar to mine while simultaneously very different is summarized by his opening statement, “for all its familiar tropes, there are multiple Souths, not just one, just as there are multiple ways of being Southern.” (pg. 7) This is a concept that I had thought about quite a lot in the past, but had never considered just how much food played a role in the differing realities that many southerners have.

Twitty’s experience with a mother who was unenthused about the consumption of certain aspects of southern cuisine was quite like my own experience growing up – but also not quite. As a child I was not allowed to eat grits. When I asked, my mother made a face and said something about grits being food for poor people (I’ve since read between the lines of that statement). I do believe that the essence of my childhood experience with southern cuisine and Twitty’s is rooted in the same subconscious memory of slavery. We know why things exist in our South’s cuisine but families from both sides of history are not quite willing to face the reasons that are staring us the face.

I do believe, however, if there is one concept that could begin that slow, painful healing process from multiple generations of hiding from guilt, shame, memory, etc. it would be the ideas Twitty has to share when he begins to explore his European roots. In particular when he states “I wanted to weep for the Irish. I have seen the bullet holes in the columns and walls all over Dublin. And yet it was the Irish buying into whiteness that gave birth to the minstrel show, draft riots during the Civil War where black people were lynched, and violence over school busing in South Boston. There are no heroes here, just varying levels of power and responsibility.” I don’t think that there is a statement that could better sum up the South and its long history of peoples asserting whiteness in order to raise their social standing.

As a white person who grew up in the south and was raised by people who identify as “Southerners” I know that most white southerners don’t know that their Irish ancestors were not considered white upon first coming to the south, nor do they know the history of the blackface minstrelsy, the fact that banjos have their roots in West Africa, or that their fondness for fancy cooked soul food but aversion to things like grits are rooted in the same racism that gained them their whiteness and power in the first place. Twitty’s journey of remembrance for all of his past through food and ancestry is a form of healing and one that I think could result in the merging of southern realities in the best possible way. When he cites the varying levels of power in responsibility that different peoples’ have, I believe remembering is one of the biggest responsibilities of those of us who are still benefiting off of the power we gained through the marginalization of others.

Week 7

This week I was pretty swamped with work for both of the textile classes I was taking, so field study was the main focus while research took a bit of a back seat. I was right in the middle of my wool spinning work for my class at Arbutus (reflection here), and also half way through the beginning weaving course I was taking at the Nifty Knitter (reflection here).

So, crafting took over my life for a bit. It was actually a very relevant experience to have the opportunity to understand just how much time and discipline it requires to complete a piece of work by a specific deadline. As a beginner, my work was definitely completed much slower than someone who has been at it for ages. However, even with that in mind, it gave me a hands on understanding of why cottage industries like khadi cotton and Donegal yarn worked hard to mechanize their products.

I was originally meant to be focusing on dyes this week, but I made the decision to instead focus on crafting. As I’ve continued to study sustainability in the design world, I’ve started to feel as if any dyes at all are a bit unnecessary. Even with plant dyes, the use of fixatives creates waste with undesirable properties. It seems to me a study of dyes and color with a focus on sustainability would take much longer than a week to even begin to have an understanding and I felt that my particular area of study was not heavily dependent on whether or not I explored dyes. So, I decided to focus on things that I had already begun exploring.

One thing I am really excited to have come across is a documentary series called Snáithe (meaning ‘thread’ in the Irish language). The documentary is created and hosted by Ciara O’Doherty, an Irish fashion blogger who is trying to trace the history of Irish textiles and its influence on modern day fashion. What was really striking to me, was that the entire series is narrated in the Irish language – even most of the interviews are conducted in Irish. This is a super incredible connection, because as I have noted earlier, the endurance of the craft traditions of colonized lands seems to be almost inherent with indigenous speech. What is even more interesting, is that the documentary focuses heavily on the story telling ability that Ireland has had throughout history and how weaving and fabric play a role in telling the story of the land. There is something quite chilling to me about the fact that these aspects of Irish textile are being explained in the native tongue; one that dates back to Ireland’s entirely oral, story-telling culture. It is currently being released as a six-part series, so I have only had the opportunity so far to watch the first two that have been released.

Photo from The Tweed Project, one of the designers interviewed by O’Doherty. Photo ©The Tweed Project 2014

With all the excitement about the connections I had been making, I did notice a bit of unbalance in my knowledge of Celtic tradition and Indian tradition – two subjects that I am supposed to be dedicating an equal amount of time to. I think the reasoning behind this is that there is a lot more of a learning curve for me when it comes to Indian culture. There are many different states and languages and cultures within the country, so I am a bit wary of drawing any conclusions in the way that I feel comfortable doing so for Ireland and Scotland. I do, however, wish to broaden my horizons when it comes to an understanding of the culture behind the textiles I am studying. So, I am hoping to dedicate a good portion of Week 8’s research to understand Indian textile culture a bit more.

Week 7 – Weaving Reflection

During weeks 6 and 7, I was able to attend a two part weaving course at the Nifty Knitter in Issaquah. It was a very introductory level course, but I found the teaching style/community to be much less welcoming than what I had experienced at Arbutus.

The loom after being warped – a simple task that the instructor made sound like the end of the world.

I successfully wove my very first scarf and was super pleased with the outcome and the level of ease that is associated with simple weaving, however I was not thrilled with the approach that the teacher took in instruction us beginning weavers. For the past seven weeks, my work has led me to the conclusion that in fashion and textiles, visual perfection and symmetry will always be overrated. I believe its one of the main reasons we have so much waste with textiles being produced on an industrial scale, and also the reason that small craftspeople cannot compete with machine-rendered textiles. While I was at the weaving class, the teacher kept emphasizing perfection, symmetry, cleanness of lines, and other aspects that actually had nothing to do with the structural integrity of the garment and instead, in my opinion, wasted time and material. She kept stressing how difficult weaving is and how much work it takes you to be perfect, but the whole time I could not stop myself from being incredibly skeptical about her comments.

The shuttle used to guide the yarn through the loom.

Overall, I felt like the craft world in this particular community was one reserved for rich old ladies who needed something to fill their time and pour their excessive disposable income into (I was the youngest in the room by 30 years), it was not meant to be a useful task. This is unfortunately what I think a lot of the craft world in the United States is saturated with. It is not made to be a practical, attainable skill – if it were, there would be no lucrative market for it at all.

Why do the lines need to be perfectly lined up? Why can’t there be little snags or fluffs here and there? Sure, a machine wouldn’t do it that way, but if a machine can do it better, why are we even doing it at all? I think the answer to that last question goes back to what I have been finding to be the most prominent theme in the conclusions I have been making: human interaction with fiber and fabric creates a narrative that industrialized machinery is sorely lacking.

Some rows into my personality-less scarf.

Overall, it took me about 13 hours of weaving to finish my scarf. In order to make the minimal living wage from that amount of work (let’s say $11/hr), I would need to charge about $150 for it. To be honest, with the scarf that I made from the boring, textureless, perfect yarn that I was given alongside instructions to be as precise as possible, I would not in a million years pay $150 for that scarf. I do believe, however, that there is a way to create something that is totally unique and quite priceless when you allow your work to have personality in every step of its life cycle. From the methods employed to spin, weave, finish, dye – each and every stop allows for an opportunity to create something completely and entirely its own story.

Spinning from the Beginning Week 3

The drum carder next to the alpaca wool that I used for the blend.

This past week at the spinning class at Arbutus Folk School, we began to dive into carding and picking fibers. We started class by going over the basic tools and equipment used in carding. Emily was kind enough to bring both her drum carder and hand carders with her to class, so we were able to get hands on experience.

The drum carder is just a mechanized version of hand carders – instead of manually brushing the two up against each other, you simply turn the knob that spin circular carders against each other, thus creating the same effect in a much more efficient manner. I also found that the drum carder was easier for keeping the carded fibers together which then makes it a bit more simple to draft from.

While experimenting with the carders, I was able to blend alpaca, Jacob’s wool, and linen together and I’m pretty excited to try spinning it. I learned pretty quickly that I much prefer spinning alpaca to sheep’s wool, but the alpaca was a bit elastic and didn’t want to come off the carder – that’s where throwing the Jacob’s wool into the blend helped a lot.

I actually had no idea how versatile and easy it is to blend different materials, and its actually led me to wonder why we don’t do more of that in the modern day fashion industry. Surely utilizing even a little bit of many different kinds of readily available fibers makes much more sense than only using two or three crops for the entire world’s textile market.

I’m really excited to have had the opportunity to have this hands on experience – I’ve come up with ideas that I never would have even begun to dream if I had not gone back to the basics of textile production. Over the course of the next week I will be spinning, plying, and hopefully (if I have the time) dying the alpaca blend that I created.

Week 6

This past week, I focused on learning the logistics behind plant fibers and how they are processed into textiles. In order to do this, I read a few scholarly articles, continued reading Cotton Khadi in Indian Economy, watched some educational videos, and consulted with Dave on his extensive knowledge of the conventional cotton industry.

I was really inspired by how similar to wool the process of plant fiber production is and even more inspired by the possibility of blending together various different fibers in order to create textiles out of whatever materials are available in the immediate environment. Because of this, I have become increasingly confused as to why the modern day clothing industry is so dead set on having cotton make up for more than 90% of the natural fibers used.

Image result for Plane spraying Cotton fields — A plane spraying defoliant on cotton crops. Image source here

After speaking with Dave about the topic of conventional cotton vs. organic cotton, I am very skeptical about the possibility of having a cotton industry that makes any sense to continue on a global scale (though that seems to be the theme of my opinions on pretty much any textile industry). It seems to me that cotton is a fiber whose purpose we have exacerbated over time. Perhaps it was an ideal crop to grow in specific regions at one time, but with our declining water availability, increasing pests and pesticide resistance, and depleted soil health, I do believe we are better off leaving cotton in the past.

Even with all of the less than positive discoveries, this has been an incredibly inspiring week for me. As I’ve looked into issues of agriculture and how closely tied it is to fiber production, I have become incredibly interested in the idea of pulling resources from your immediate environment and blending them in with fibers best suited for textile production in order to create a garment that is at least partially sourced locally.

Conveniently, the spinning teacher brought her drum carder with her to our class this week. So, I was able to experiment with this concept a little bit during this week’s spinning class and I am hoping to continue to grow this idea throughout the quarter and perhaps even into my next quarters at Evergreen.

Line fibers

Long flax fibers.

Notable Concept: Textile Chain

One of the concept that I think has been the backbone of a lot of the sustainability research I have been doing is that of the textile chain. The textile chain can be defined as the steps that fiber undergoes in order to become a piece of fabric or a garment. There are various different chains associated with different fibers, and even more specific chains associated with those different fibers (take worsted and woolen, for example).

Khadi cotton on the runway by Pallavi Murdia image source here.

Something that I have noticed while looking at various different business models is that mass production = less variety in tasks accomplished. It appears that the bigger the operation, the fewer tasks the operation is actually able to carry out. For instance, a cotton farmer who is growing acres upon acres of cotton and relying on that crop for income is only going to have enough headspace to focus on the act of growing and harvesting. They will not have the time nor energy to worry about processing the cotton into something other than what it is in its organic form. Because of this, they are most likely not going to be specific about who they are selling their product to. So, another large operation is likely going to be the one to purchase the thousands of pounds of cotton (take a ginning factory in Indonesia, for instance), which they will only have the power to see it through the ginning process and nothing else. Thus, the textile chain becomes globalized and you find yourself with a pair of pants that were grown in Texas, processed in India, sewn in Bangladesh, dyed in China, and distributed in Turkey.

Harris tweed on the runway by Brora. Image source here.

This is something that I think the cottage industry model offers a better alternative to. Oftentimes, that small scale production is what allows craftspeople to take part in more than one step of that chain. I do believe that this is a marketing point that small businesses really should be able to use to their advantage. In the case of khadi cotton, I believe it was just that “marketing” strategy (in the form of the Swadeshi movement) that has lead to its endurance over time in a market flooded with cheaper alternatives. In the same way, hand knit jerseys and tweed from the islanders of Scotland & Ireland are not heavily sought after for their pricing or convenience, but for their locality and the traditional narrative and histories associated with them. This allows the wearer to make a statement on their values, which is fashion, in a lot of ways, in its truest form.