Zwartbles: Fabel Knitwear’s Medieval Ruffle Blouse

Hello everyone, I’ve been busy over the festive period finishing off a project that has long been on my wish list. I never thought I would make much of a jumper knitter, but since tackling my Victorian cycling jumper recreation the other year, I’m not as intimidated by knitted garments anymore and have realised that if I pick a project with interesting constructional or decorative elements, the proportion of active/mindless knitting is just about right (I personally prefer active knitting).

The Plan

I often find myself browsing the internet for unusual knitting projects, and it was during one of my journey’s down the rabbit hole that I came across Fabel knitwear’s site. I loved the whimsy and vintage silhouettes of Helene’s designs and was particularly taken by the Medieval ruffle blouse, not least because it had a square neckline which is more unusual to see in knitwear. After making the Zwartbles hats I knew I wanted to make a garment for myself and the deep reddish brown of this yarn seemed like it would make the perfect base for the jumper. I paired it with some wonderfully soft alpaca fleece from my stash, which I thought would make an acceptable substitute for the mohair/silk blend used for the ruffles in the original.

The Making

Knitting was a straightforward process and I was following the pattern so won’t go into much detail. The body and the sleeves are knitted bottom up before being joined in the round, followed by knitting raglan and then shaping the neckline, with the decorative ruffles added at the end. I’d never knitted raglan sleeves before, so it was quite a magical moment when I added them to the body in the round and worked them into shape at the shoulders.

The moment I saw how it was all going to come together

I didn’t take many photos during knitting, but did film the process as I went which you can see in the video below. Then it came to the ruffle detail; Alpaca fibre is finer than most wools and it’s usually recommended to use fine combs or carders with a higher tpi count. When I first got this fleece I experimented with spinning directly from the teased out locks as I didn’t have my combs, which resulted in a thick slubby single. While lovely, this wasn’t the delicate lacey yarn needed for this project, so I decided to sample two different preparation and spinning methods before diving in. I made a sample of combed alpaca spun as a single on my wheel, and a spindle spun sample carded from the combing waste on my vintage hand carders (which are a standard tpi but seem to work ok on finer fibres). Both samples were washed to set the twist before I knitted them into test triangles.

There was little difference in appearance between the carded and combed yarns and since I was looking for the yarn with the most ‘halo’ around I felt that hand carding would be the best option going forward. The wheel spun sample had more excess twist in it (which is unsurprising as I find thin yarns feel quite natural to spin on my spindles), so I initially thought using spindle spun would be the way to go. After knitting my first sample triangle however, I realised that my singles were a bit too thin, so tried another triangle with the yarn held double. This looked much better, so I decided that for the final project I would hand card the fibre and spin it into a 2-ply yarn. I ended up doing this on the wheel as my favourite drop spindle was in the midst of another project and plying is a little quicker to get set up on the wheel (plus I might as well take the opportunity to improve my wheel lace spinning!)

Yarn held single on the left, yarn held double on the right

With my 2-ply alpaca yarn at the ready I began adding the decorative ruffle. Despite following the pattern, when I picked up and knitted stitches around the neckline I ended up with a lower number than the pattern suggested I should. Interestingly the neckline is worked in multiples of twelve and I was exactly one multiple of twelve lower than the smallest patterned size. I worked out I would have two triangles fewer than the pattern, but after placing stitch markers to indicate where the triangles would sit, I felt that it was better to work with the maths of my neckline, than to cram 24 extra stitches in and risk the triangles overlapping oddly.

The pattern reminded me to pick up stitches from the inside so the collar folds over, but I did forget which direction I needed to start my round from and just caught myself before the stockinette side of the fabric would have been backwards! Then it was onto the cuffs and weaving in all those pesky ends before steam blocking the ruffles so they would sit beautifully flat.

I’m pleasantly surprised by how this turned out and how comfortable the raglan sleeves are; raglan sleeves were originally designed to make clothing more accessible and easy to put on, but I was a little worried my thicker yarn might have negated this and reduced my arm movement, but that was not the case. Since it also doubles as quite a festive jumper, I think I might be inspired to go full jester and add some bells to the collar tips in time for next Christmas, in the meantime it will add a little fun to my winter wardrobe!

As ever, do let me know in the comments below what woolly projects you are working on/looking forward to working on in 2026, and if you have any raglan tips or tricks you want to share do let me know!

Happy Knitting!

Festive Woolly Wishes!

As 2025 draws to a close, I’ve been reflecting on how much of a whirlwind the past twelve months have been. I’ve had a lot going on this year, but despite a slow start to blogging while I finished my degree, my website stats tell me I managed to write 20 blog posts and have started gradually filling in the gaps on the exploring fleece page where fleeces I was working with were put on hold. I’ve also continued to play around with filming my projects, which has been a fun exercise in storytelling and a good way to learn new skills. The response to these has been very positive, so it’s definitely something I’ll continue with going forward.

I also need to give a very warm welcome to my new subscribers, and to all my followers old or new, thank you so much for joining me in this woolly corner of the internet – I hope you’ve enjoyed this year’s posts. I have lots of exciting plans and ideas going into 2026; I’m not sure how many will come to fruition, but I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to post about creative projects a little more regularly, alongside taking part in the usual fibre challenges (and if you have any suggestions of crafty content you’d like to see then do let me know in the comments).

In the meantime, I wish you all a merry festive season. I look forward to joining you again in the new year!

Loose Ends

Spinning: Black Welsh Mountain

One Fleece Spun Two Ways

Some of you will have spotted this post is a little out of order; I’d planned to get this out before making the final projects in Wovember, but I’m quite glad I was delayed as I ended up spinning two very different types of yarn with this fleece, which I think makes for much more interesting reading! Once again, my experience spinning with this fleece may be very different to another since it wasn’t the best quality, so do feel free to share your experiences in the comments!

Standard 2-Ply

During TDF I combed the fleece to separate the best fibres for spinning with the intention to turn this into a 2-ply handspun yarn (a good all rounder as at that point I hadn’t decided on a project). This was the first whole fleece I’ve used my wool combs on, and I enjoyed having a large basketful of combed nests to spin from for a change. I began spinning worsted style as is traditional for combed fleece, but the fibres also very naturally fell into a thin long draw. I experimented with both techniques (and supported long draw) during spinning and found very little visible difference between them – both had the same diameter, and interestingly the yarn was both stiff and drapey (though I suspect the stiffness was more to do with the yarn being slightly coarser).

Close up of the 2-ply yarn showing off the variaitions in colour

There were a few odd second cuts left in the fibres, which I removed since they were scratchy and the yarn wasn’t naturally lumpy and I was pleasantly surprised by how even the yarn was after plying, as I really hadn’t been sure what to expect from this fleece. Unfortunately I started work on the Raven Collar before I got round to measuring how much 2-ply yarn I salvaged from the fleece (in fact I was knitting and spinning at the same time!).

Art Yarn Singles

After my felting project fell through I opted to loosely spin the batts carded from the combing waste on my jumbo flyer. I utilised the same techniques I used when working with the Herdwick, however I did find that the combing waste was slightly trickier to work with as the longer fibres were all in the 2-ply, and due to the condition of this fleece some of the shorter fibres were more inclined to snap, so the yarn was more susceptible to breakages, particularly in the slubbiest sections. To combat this decided to spin a slightly thinner yarn than I initially planned so more fleece was caught in the twist. It wasn’t my favourite art yarn when I took it off the bobbin, but I love how it looked after weaving, and do have a couple of spare skeins which are inspiring me to use them into a mixed textile piece in the future.

Art yarn singles on and off the bobbins

Overall, the spinning process was relatively straightforward, considering the quality of the fleece and produced some really beautiful yarn, however, what I was least prepared for was the sheer amount of shedding. I usually have an apron to hand so as not to spread wool around the house on my clothes after spinning (though most dust etc. falls out during fibre prep), but no matter how well prepared this fibre was, or how far along the process, my floor, apron and socks were covered in a layer of second cuts and broken fibres (understandably worst with the combing waste).

Dust and broken fibres post-drum carding

My goal was to see what was possible to produce from a poorer quality fleece and I’ve definitely achieved more than I expected; so if you also have a dodgy fleece lingering in your stash I highly recommend experimenting with it – but maybe prep it outside to save yourself the clean-up!

Happy Spinning!

Black Welsh Mountain: Gothic Hood

After my feather collar I had a lot of combing waste and couldn’t bear to throw it away. I gathered it together and quickly ran it through the drum carder so it formed loose batts. Despite being the second time it had been prepped, there was a lot of dust and broken fibre under the drum carder.

Now, I could pretend that I always intended to make a hood, but sometimes projects just don’t go to plan and I think it’s just as important to share those moments as the successes.

The misguided genius below was the start of the wet felting project I planned to use the BWM combing waste for. I’m no expert in wet felting, but have had enough experience and time researching to know when something really isn’t working. I’d been working the first layer of the first side for around an hour, within which time I’d also tried shocking it with cold and boiling water, trying with more and less soap, but to no avail – the fleece absolutely refused to wet felt (in fact after I tried in a last ditch effort to roll it so I could put more pressure on, it was fluffier than before I laid it out!). I’d seen a couple of felting bloggers who had said BWM could be tougher to felt, I just hadn’t expected that much of a challenge!

BWM Wet Felting Fail

I could have kept at it and hoped that eventually the thing would felt, but I’m a firm believer in working with the fleece rather than against it when spinning, so if my BWM didn’t want to felt then I wasn’t going to force it. I can save that project for another time with a fleece that is more suited; I’ve got a good resist made up (from thick canvas so I can avoid using plastic) so it will be ready for when I need it.

In the meantime I rinsed and dried out the un-feltable BWM and pondered my next steps – I still had to get a BWM project out in 13 days. I was curious if I might have more luck needle-felting it, so I grabbed a very small section of one of my batts to experiment with. It held together better than the wet felt, but I could still separate the fibres more than I would be able to with other fleeces – evidently it was a tough old fleece (though I do still want to experiment more with needle felting it later)!

What to do next?

Realising felting wasn’t the best solution, I began loosely spinning it into singles with the intent of weaving it into a useable fabric. I set up my jumbo flyer and managed to fill nearly six bobbins worth, which was more than I expected considering I’d already used a lot of the fleece in the feather collar. The batts made from the combing waste had shorter staples and some broken fibres trapped within them, so the resulting yarn was shedding quite a bit. In an effort to reduce this (and test just how felt resistant this fleece was) I decided to set the twist by boiling the yarn with soap, agitating it with a wooden spoon and then plunging it straight into cold water to rinse. While it definitely tightened up the yarn, I didn’t notice much shrinkage and when winding it onto my shuttle later, I could still break apart the fibres with my hands when needed.

Spun Singles

Now I had some very fluffy textured yarn, I had to decide what I was going to turn it into. I had a tight deadline, but I also wanted to show off the fleece’s dramatic natural colouring as the original project would have. I needed something that was simple, but with enough drama to show off the fleece, so I turned to some of my old projects for inspiration. Several years ago I made a hooded scarf for a friend and always thought I should have made something similar for myself, so looked online for inspiration and discovered several patterns inspired by the Skjoldehamn hood, a Viking/Iron Age archaeological find from Norway made up of rectangles and squares. I decided to use this as my initial inspiration and calculated what width and length of warp I would need to weave two rectangles that could be assembled into the hood.

Weaving

I’d set aside 3 balls of coarser Zwartbles yarn from my previous fleece processing which I intended to use for weaving rather than knitting, and decided this would be the perfect opportunity to put them to use. The Zwartbles was a ‘grabby’ yarn (it easily sticks to itself), so I thought if the BWM wasn’t going to felt in the slightest, perhaps the fabric would be tighter and more secure if the Zwartbles felted a bit around it.

Since this was a small project I warped up my rigid heddle loom and began to weave. Taking inspiration from the weaving style I used in my Herdwick rugs last year, I wound the yarn onto the shuttles as a single and compacted the weft tightly with the reed (the intention being that this would help give the fabric more structure). Weaving was straightforward, I hemstitched both ends and also tied knots over the hemstitching to further secure the ends before fulling.

Once again, I wanted to push the BWM’s felting limits. I submerged the fabric in soapy water as hot as I could bear my hands in and washed it vigorously. There was still quite a lot of shedding, but once dry the gaps had closed up and the Zwartbles warp was definitely catching on itself; the BWM was still completely unaffected, so the only further experiment I could have done would have been to put it in the washing machine (that would have risked losing the drapey quality of the fabric, but I might try this with the breed study square when I get round to it).

Assembling & Changing the Design

I then began folding and tacking (basting) the two pieces of fabric together into the Skjoldehamn hood style, but found that I just wasn’t happy with how it was sitting. The fabric had a fluffy quality, and much like my woven Ryeland, it didn’t have the drape a thinner worstead weave would have. So I spent some time playing around with the fabric to see what would work best, eventually deciding that I would use some of the fabric folding techniques in the Skjoldehamn hood, but make it more scarf like.

To achieve this I first sewed the two pieces of fabric together at one end, offsetting the tassels so they would show on whichever side was visible (arguably I could have just woven a double length of fabric in one go, but it was quite thick so would have overloaded the front beam of my loom – plus I always like handspun fringe detailing!). I then folded one end onto itself the length of the top of my head to just past my shoulder and stitched down the side the length from the top of my head to my neck – the diagram shows this a little more clearly.

Diagram showing layout – red lines indicate seams

All that was left was for me to turn the hood portion the right side out to hide the seam allowance. The long side of the scarf then wraps around the neck and shoulders to secure it in place (I’ve used a shawl pin to further secure it from slipping off my shoulder), and now I was ready to go and frolic as a wool witch (or possibly a Sith or Nazgul!) in the woods…

Thank you to the wonderful @leanagibsonphotography for braving the cold for another little photoshoot!

Once again there’s a video of the making of process (apologies for the dull lighting in places, my daylight filming hours were limited!):

Despite not being quite the project I planned, on the whole, I’m pleased with how this turned out. There are definitely some things I might tweak to make it fit better, and I need to sort out a way of fixing it at the shoulder for when I’m wearing it double wrapped (I couldn’t get my usual shawl pin through four layers of fabric!), but it will definitely keep me cosy on winter walks. I still have a little yarn left over, so I’m hoping to experiment with some more mixed fibrecrafts with that next year.

Thank you for joining me this Wovember, I hope you’ve enjoyed the posts – if there are any that you’ve particularly enjoyed and would like to see more of (either in general or for Wovember) then do let me know! In the meantime, it’s back to more wool witchery…

Happy Crafting!

Fibre Representations: Part 2 Cats & Cloth

In part 1 I explored spinning in Fairytales, and this week I’m sticking with the childhood theme since fictional representations of fibrecrafts are very prevalent in these stories (and probably the reason for my fibre obsession now!). This time we’ve abandoned spinning in favour of weaving and knitting and although it wasn’t planned, there is quite a focus on cats!

As before, I’ve included images throughout with links to Youtube videos on the picture or text where relevant.

Bagpuss

I’m not sure how well known Bagpuss is outside the UK, but for those who unfamiliar with the premise, in each episode a lost ‘thing’ often needing fixing or tidying up would be brought by Emily to Bagpuss the cat and his friends to look at. Between all the characters they would find out what the object was, learn about it (often through stories and songs) and clean/repair it before placing it in the shop window in case the owner came to find it. In episode 10 Emily brings home a loom and some ‘old man’s beard’ (clematis vitalba), and there’s a deceptive amount of textile history hidden in this episode.

Image: Bagpuss (1974). Smallfilms/BBC.

Bagpuss’ story about the king’s beard alludes to several historical realities of the textile industry, while remaining child friendly; the beard becoming trapped in the loom is representative of the numerous horrific accidents caused by industrial textile machinery, while the character of the “young rug weaver” hints at the dark history of child labour behind cloth production. It also makes reference to the historic power cloth merchants held over the textile trade.

The weaving song contains several key weaving terms and the visuals depict the steps in the right order, but most impressive in my opinion, is when Charlie Mouse decides to become the shuttle and demonstrate how the loom works. Since Bagpuss is filmed in stop motion it would have been easy for the animators to cut corners, however Charlie Mouse goes under every other warp thread as he should, pulls the weft thread through on a slight diagonal (this helps the selvedge stay straight as the yarn doesn’t pull when the shed (the gap between the warp threads that the shuttle passes through) closes), and on several occasions gets Bagpuss to ‘beat’ the weft thread towards the front beam with his paw.

For a bit of fun (and to embrace my inner child), I enlisted the help of Janey Mouse to help spread the warp for my next BWM project. All credit to Peter Firmin & Oliver Postgate who animated Bagpuss – it’s harder than you’d think to fit a mouse through a loom!

Kittens & Knitting

Anthropomorphic animals are quite a common occurrence in children’s books from Beatrix Potter to Paddington Bear. Below are some illustrations from the Ladybird book Smoke & Fluff, a story written in rhyme about two kittens causing havoc around the house starting with a ball of wool.

Macgregor, A.J. & Perring, W. (1989) Smoke and Fluff. Loughborough: Ladybird Books Ltd.

While there isn’t too much to unpick here, the illustrations do become a bit of a spot the difference! The double pointed knitting needles (DPN’s) change size between pictures (strangely, so do Mrs Cat’s shoes!) and the fourth ‘working’ needle is missing from the first two pictures. It could be hidden behind her right hand in the left picture, however the middle and right pictures are set only moments apart and the needles go from being set up in a triangle shaped start/end of round to a square shape mid-round, so this seems like an oversight (or else Mrs Cat can knit incredibly fast!).

However, perhaps the most accurate thing in these illustrations is the expression on Mrs Cat’s face as the table overturns about to take her knitting with it. I’m sure whenever I nearly drop a stitch (or the time the needle slipped out of the whole row) my face does something very similar!

Weaving Stories

Authors are often described as ‘weaving’ tales, and while this is meant as a metaphor, for years fabric has been used to tell stories. I was therefore very happy when researching these posts to discover that Diana Wynne Jones (the author of one of my favourite books Howls Moving Castle) had written about this very concept in The Spellcoats. I will disclaim that I haven’t read this book in full (my tbr list is very long, but it is on there!), and it is part of the Dalemark Quartet, so I will be exploring the weaving at face value rather than commenting on the wider plotline, however the story revolves around the protagonist weaving their story as it is being told into cloth for a rugcoat – an item of clothing popular in the prehistoric fictional Dalemark.

“THIS IS TO BE a very big rugcoat. We have been here in the old mill for days and days now, and though I am weaving close and fine, I have still not half finished my story. […] When Uncle Kestrel first brought me my loom and my wheel and my wool, I was sick with impatience, and it all went so slowly. I had to spin my wool and set up the threads on the loom, and even when I began to weave, it took half the morning on the first sentence. But now I have found how to go fast. I set the first part of the pattern and cast the threads, there and back, and then the row to hold it, and while I do that, I am thinking of my next line. By the time I have finished that band of words, I often have the next three or four ready in my head. I go faster and faster, click and clack, change the threads with my feet, click and clack with the shuttles, and so on. And the story grows in the loom.”

(Jones, D.W. (2017) The Spellcoats. (p.59) S.l.: HarperCollins Publishers.)

Despite the story revolving around the weaving of rugcoats, there are very few detailed descriptions of the process, however this extract does contain the bare bones. Jones discusses how the weaving is faster than preparing the loom, and that in some weaving styles/patterns, plain rows are woven between to help with the structure. She also mentions the noise that weaving can make depending on the size of the loom, however there are a few things that don’t sit quite right.

I’m not sure what shape rugcoats are – there are several descriptions of the colours and patterns, but very little on the shape. Lots of characters wear them and different coats for different seasons are mentioned, so I’m assuming they could come in lots of shapes and sizes and are named ‘rugcoats’ due to their resemblance to wool rugs. However since an entire story is being woven into one (using patterns and symbols) and that Jones’ other witches and wizards often wear flamboyant clothing, I’m making the assumption that the rugcoats being woven in this book are long sleeved and around ankle length, which makes me question what type of loom is being used.

In the extract the protagonist describes a loom with treadles to change the shed (something perhaps similar to a counterbalance loom). Yet the loom is later described as being transported by boat “perched on top” of a vast pile of wool, something I think would be tricky with a counterbalance loom, on what I assume is a rowing boat. A rigid heddle or warp weighted prehistoric loom would better fit on top of a pile of wool and still be large enough to weave a substantial width of fabric, however neither of these have treadles or make a particularly loud clacking sound, so unless the world of prehistoric Dalemark has designed a loom that has both, I’m not quite sure what the protagonist is using.

I do however love the premise of stories woven into cloth. Textiles have been used for years to tell stories, from pictorial tapestries and ethnic patterns and shapes, to morse coded messages hidden in knitting patterns, and it does get me thinking – if authors weave stories, are weavers also authors in their own way?

I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey into childhood stories – If you have any more depictions of good or bad spinning, weaving, or other fibrecrafts that you think I should see, do let me know in the comments below – I may be able to continue this critical commentary series next Wovember!

Black Welsh Mountain: Alice Starmore’s Raven Collar

Earlier this year I knitted the Eagle wrap from Alice Starmore’s Glamourie and waxed lyrical about the other patterns in the book. The raven poncho was the design that first grabbed my attention as I thought it would be a perfect project for my Black Welsh Mountain. Though the poncho is beautiful, I was most interested in the feathered collar portion, so was very happy to discover that Starmore has created a version of this herself. Something I love about the Glamourie book is how you are encouraged to take the bare bones of the patterns to tweak and adapt what you make, with the beautifully intricate costumes serving as inspiration. For anyone wanting to make this there is a specific pattern available on Starmore’s site, however I knitted the 3 layers as per the Glamourie book and then improvised the fourth layer based on these.

Those of you following along with my BWM journey so far will know that this fleece wasn’t the best quality and I combed it to remove broken fibres, however the resulting yarn was still on the slightly coarser side. So why use it for this project?

The most obvious reason was the colouring; though the feathers of Scottish ravens that Starmore is replicating are blue tinged, my BWM has tinges of white and grey that do interesting things when they catch the light, much like the feathers of corvids. The slightly coarser nature of the yarn meant it had more stiffness to it, which would help give the collar a more feather-like structure (a drapey yarn would make the feather’s floppy) and also showed off the vein pattern well. Finally, since the collar is not designed to be a next to skin garment, coarser or itchy fibres wouldn’t be a problem. When combing and spinning I’d also separated out the softest fibre to spin a ball of wool specifically for use on the neck portion of the design.

Knitting Feathers

And thus began a long journey knitting 84 individual feathers of different sizes. I love constructional knitting projects, but even after reading through the pattern, I couldn’t quite visualise how the feathers would come together, so it was quite magical watching the first feather evolve before my eyes! I found the pattern easy to follow, although I couldn’t fathom out how to slip the stitches in the correct orientation for the purl double decreases, so ended up using a cable needle to swap stitches, which worked just as well (though I am still so curious how to do this on two needles!). At the start of the fourth layer of feathers, I was running low on yarn and was slightly concerned that I wouldn’t have enough, but somehow finished with yarn to spare!

Then came the challenge of blocking. I returned the blocking mats I borrowed for my eagle wrap, but realised that I could use my wool felting mats as a more natural option than foam and block the feathers in batches. I purchased some blocking pins from Hobbycraft and also saw an A3 ironing mat made of wool, so I bought that too (I seem to end up working on my sewing projects on the floor, so thought it would also save me moving back and forth to an ironing board to press seams in the future!). The mats worked well for blocking and unlike foam, the pin holes can ‘rub out’, the only limit being the mat size.

Joining the Layers

Once all the feathers were dry it was time to join them together. This required some calculating for the fourth layer I was improvising, since this layer was knitted first. Unfortunately I was so wrapped up in my stitch and decrease calculations that I didn’t notice the instruction to knit several rows before joining the next layer in the book, so had to frog my first two rows and start again – oops! I found using two sets of circular interchangeable needles incredibly handy for this portion; they are more flexible when joining layers of feathers together and when I accidently left two feathers behind (and didn’t notice until I reached the end of the round too early!), I was able to swap the needles to the other end of the cable and join them on without having to unravel everything.

Bottom and third layer of feathers on circular needles

Since my yarn was limited for this project, I decided that I would swap to Zwartbles yarn for the rounds that would be hidden underneath each layer of feathers. This worked well since any colour variation showing through to the front looks like down feathers (although it’s visible as stripes from the inside).

Colour variation of the dark brown Zwartbles between BWM

Once all the layers were assembled I tried the collar on before working out the neck. The neck portion given in the book is more rounded and bumpy, while Starmore’s collar version has a more ruffled appearance and buttons, which I prefer. After examining the pictures closely I felt the ruffle effect was achieved in a similar way to joining the feather layers, while also knitting back and forth for the buttons rather than in the round. At which point I put the pattern down and proceeded to completely wing it. I’d been working on this project much longer than I’d anticipated and was onto my last ball of yarn, so rather than trying to work out ruffle combinations that I might not have enough yarn for, I decided to just go for it. To avoid wasting yarn I worked from both the outside and inside of the ball, making sure I checked I was happy with the position and look of each ruffle before cutting the yarn and attaching it. I would then try on the collar and decide what to do for the next 2-3 rows.

Knitting more instinctively like this gave me an interesting collar pattern that I wouldn’t have thought to plan, and also allowed me to work some additional decreases to better fit my neck that I probably wouldn’t have fiddled with had I been following the pattern.

Finishing Touches

To close the collar I opted for some vintage abalone buttons and picked up and knitted a quick placket to cover them. I then wove in the ends before sitting the collar on my mannequin overnight to rest in position, and finally the project was finished…

A massive thank you to the wonderful @leanagibsonphotography for another amazing photoshoot – narrowing it down to a few images to share was incredibly difficult as I had so many favourites!

I also have a video showing the whole process of making from raw fleece to collar:

I am very pleased with how this project turned out. I believe every fleece, however imperfect can be turned into something useful or beautiful (or both!) and this is might now be my new favourite accessory. It’s practical – keeping me warm under multiple layers of wool, dramatic enough to dress up any outfit and I’ve learnt some new knitting techniques. So, if you have a fleece that isn’t the best quality, but isn’t bad enough to compost, I hope this inspires you to experiment and see what you can make or learn from working with it.

Happy Crafting!

Wool & The Anthropocene: An Essay

For the past few years I’ve been leading a double life, exploring wool witchery while also undertaking a human geography degree. It was inevitable that at some point these two things would interconnect and the following essay exploring the Anthropocene (a proposed geological epoch defined by humankind’s impact on the environment) through the social and cultural history of wool was the result:

Introduction

Wool is both a natural resource and a representation of the change in values that underpins most Anthropocene arguments. Caught in the entanglements between human and other non-human ‘objects’; it would be impossible to discuss wool without also discussing sheep, just as it is impossible to discuss the historic wool industry without also exploring the rise of colonial cotton production. Focusing on the UK, whose woollen heritage is well documented, I explore the changes in value to resources, work and technology throughout time; illustrating that the Anthropocene is not only about the physical human impact on the environment as first put forward by Earth’s System’s scientists (Crutzen & Stoemer, 2000), but also the underlying political and economic systems that propose certain narratives (Bonneuil, 2015). As a symbol of bygone eras, wool advises caution, but seen as an object of resistance it offers some hope amongst eco-catastrophist outlooks in this precarious epoch.

Sheep: Man’s Second-Best Friend

Sheep have been living alongside humans for thousands of years; the bones of Soay sheep on the Island of St Kilda today, closely resemble those found at Bronze age sites on the British Mainland (Clutton-Brock, 2012; Ryder, 1964), suggesting these sheep moved with early settlers to the islands. While today’s Soay sheep are similar to their ancestors, the genomes of many other domestic sheep are significantly different. Archaeological evidence suggests humans have been making textiles from wool since the late Neolithic/early Bronze Age (Grömer, 2004) and during thousands of years of sheep domestication, we have actively engaged in selective breeding based on desirable characteristics (low kemp/high wool, fine fibre diameter etc.). Clutton-Brock (1992) argues that these biological changes occur as a result of the cultural conditions imposed by the human regime. As we domesticate sheep and use their wool, both sheep and their fibre become property, subject to ownership and economically valuable; they are commodified as humans separate themselves from a perceived ‘nature’. The result of this selective breeding for quality wool yield, means that while primitive breeds can shed their fleece, others require shearing for their health (BBC, 2021; 2023). While high wool yield was valued, humans adapted to careful shepherding, living alongside sheep as companion species (Haraway, 2003), and collectively changing the wider landscape to suit agriculture. However, as the value of wool has declined in favour of meat production (Masters & Ferguson, 2019), this relationship unravels and shearing becomes costly.

Despite centuries of selective breeding sheep have not become homogenous; there are over 60 different pure breeds of sheep within the UK (British Wool Board, 2010), each with different biological characteristics and adaptions to a multitude of British environments, however it was only recently that this genetic diversity has been valued. The near extinction of the Norfolk Horn made them the first entry into Solly Zuckerman’s gene bank at Whipsnade Zoo and the breed would become a founding member of the Rare Breeds Survival Trust (RBST) in 1971 (Monahan, 2024). Today greater importance is placed on genetic diversity since it acts as extinction insurance, however the RBST still lists 27 sheep breeds on their watchlist (RBST, 2021). Gene banks and breed conservation are direct responses to the precarity of the Anthropocene, however this also raises ethical questions; does preserving genetic diversity in gene banks reduce support to maintain it in the ‘wild’ (the RBST faces challenges from both policymakers and farmers (Evans & Yarwood, 2000; Mansbridge, 2004)), and does a reliance on science as a solution to institutional problems lead society too far into eco-modernist approaches?

Malhi (2017) discusses how adopting an early Anthropocene narrative, focusing only on detectable human presence, undermines the need for urgency and risks simply renaming the Holocene. However, despite humans’ early curation of sheep genetics, it is the assigning and reassigning of widespread economic value to sheep/wool over time within capitalist systems that is responsible for characterising the cultural and political norms that have led us into an age of extinctions and conservation in the name of ‘science’.

Work & Industry: The Rise and Fall of Wool

Wool is representative of institutional changes, particularly the value of different types of work. Prior to the industrial revolution, woollen textile manufacture was undertaken as piecework facilitated by wool merchants; a style of working that was particularly conducive to flexible working practices and allowed women to participate in the workforce, alongside taking part in childcare for example. Wool was essential to the UK’s pre-industrial economy, so much so that governments introduced protectionist measures such as the Capper’s Act of 1571, the Burial in Wool Acts from 1666, and multiple import and export taxes (Coulthard, 2021). To represent the importance of wool to national identity and the control the state attempted to impose over woollen textile production, the speaker in the House of Lords had been sitting on the Woolsack since the 14th Century; however, despite the perceived governmental control, piecework allowed spaces of resistance to emerge, from female dominated spinning bees where knowledge was shared, to the lucrative business of wool smuggling (this was particularly prevalent at Romney Marsh with the brutish smugglers hailed as dashing heroes in literary representations (Hollick, 2019)). At both local and national scales, wool was important, and skilled craftmanship was also highly valued. This pre-industrial textile industry generated significant wealth, which Allen (2009) argues was a key driver in funding technological innovation, one of the reasons Britain was first to industrialise, funding its colonial goals and spelling the beginning of the end for wool.

In the mid-17th Century James Hargreaves patented the Spinning Jenny, an industrial device of significant time saving (before the advent of the spinning wheel one worsted cloth took approximately 165 hours to make (Monahan, 2024)). The combination of established European colonialism, decreased production times, and changing fashions as a wealthy elite adopted ‘Oriental’ cotton fabrics, became a slow catalyst to textile industrialisation in the UK. The wool and cotton industries became locked in a battle; politicians were wary of losing the well-established wool industry, while entrepreneurs saw an opportunity to exploit the ‘ghost acres’ provided by cotton plantations and price the Indian handloom industry out of global markets (Hills, 1970, ch.1). New machines were large and manufacture moved from the home into factories, making it easier for the powerful elite to observe workers and disrupt social organisation (Moore, 2002). During the Industrial Revolution, the woollen industry attempted to hold its ground in the home while cotton textile production was concentrated in factories. Despite efforts of the Luddites, skilled woollen weavers could not compete with machines and faced an 80% reduction in wages described as ‘a classic example of the triumph of “economic progress” at the expense of “social welfare”’ (Lipson, 1965, p.194). For the industrial elite, low skilled workers across the empire were now in demand; considered expendable and easy to control, while British women were compelled to enter the new industrial workforce or conduct unpaid domestic labour (Nicholas & Oxley, 1993; Foster & Clark, 2018), the gender inequalities from which are still prevalent in informal care provision for example (Dahlberg et al., 2007).

For historical and political geographers, assigning economic value to both resources and/or labour is core to the argument that the Anthropocene did not begin with human geological impact on the environment, but the organisation of social structures that facilitated exploitation of both the environment and people (Moore, 2015; Barry & Maslin, 2016). Without capitalist involvement in the woollen textile industry, might industrialisation and craftsmanship developed more equitably, and would wool have endured for longer?

Compost, Crafters & Technological Advancement

The Great Acceleration is credited with inspiring a throwaway consumer culture, as wool was replaced with cheaper, more ‘modern’ oil derived fabrics such as nylon during the 1950s/1960s. During this time wool was described as high maintenance and scratchy; a symbol of the past, while synthetic fabrics were advertised as ‘easy-iron’ and ‘quick-drying’ (Schneider, 1994). This fossil fuel driven narrative was incredibly effective, with over 69% of all fibre production today being synthetic, and despite evidence of the environmental harm these plastic fibres can do, this sector continues to grow (Brooks, 2015; Changing Markets, 2024). In response to these environmental problems and the need for sustainable fibres, scientists have in many ways been tasked with reinventing the wheel. Wool is a keratin based fibre and it’s molecular structure makes it insulative, flame resistant, strong, flexible and biodegradable (British Wool, 2023). Wool outperforms synthetics and other natural fibres in insulation and temperature regulation, both for clothing and interior design (Abedin & DenHartog, 2023; Rahm, 2023), yet carbon footprint research remains focused on Life Cycle Assessments, which prioritise footprints in early manufacturing rather than throughout the whole life cycle, a system which favours synthetic fibres and leads to technocentric solutions (Rubecksen & Steinert, 2024). However wool provides an opportunity for new and old to merge, particularly in the clean-up of oil spills where wool’s high absorbency is more effective than existing methods which rely on either chemicals or plastic skimmers (Lim & Khimji, 2013), though widespread adoption of this technology requires a cultural shift within the petrochemical industry.

With sustainability increasingly influencing consumer habits, wool has recently undergone a rebrand. Designer labels such as Chanel have been marketing wool (particularly merino) as a luxury fibre, resulting in an identity dualism; wool is either considered by consumers to be ‘itchy’ and ‘dull’ (Hebrok et al., 2016), or ‘sustainable’ with greater perceived luxury value (Guercini & Rafagni, 2013). High designer price tags make wool unaffordable to many consumers, however the British Wool Marketing Board pay only £1/kg of raw fleece (British Wool, 2024) with transport being at the farmers’ expense. This has led farmers to compost or burn fleece to dispose of it cheaply and protest, releasing more carbon into the atmosphere (BBC, 2020, 2024). Despite high domestic wool availability, the UK imports over 23 million kilograms of wool (Bedford, 2024), raising animal welfare concerns surrounding the treatment of sheep in Australia for example where mulesing (the removal of skin from the hindquarters to reduce flystrike) is still legal, and presenting another barrier to ‘ethical’ consumption, as wool caught in global trade networks has limited traceability.

There is however hope; crafters and designers are increasingly using wool as an object of resistance and valuing local production as part of heritage and identity (Jones et al., 2019). The Campaign for Wool (patroned by the King), Wovember and British Wool month; raise awareness in an attempt to change the culture, while Shetlanders have been finding alternative ways of teaching children lace & Fair Isle knitting to retain its ‘intangible cultural heritage’, since knitting was removed from the curriculum due to spending cuts (Robertson, 2010; ICH Scotland, 2024). There is a place for creativity and innovation in the Anthropocene, particularly in reconnecting us with the non-human. Craft exists beyond mass production and values indigenous/local knowledge in equal measure to scientific discourse (Tarcan et al., 2023); it can help envision multispecies futures (Uğur Yavuz et al., 2024) and already has solutions to some Anthropocene problems, including instigating changes to cultures of value and consumption (Brooks et al., 2017). In this way wool offers an opportunity for individuals to engage with smaller scale participatory practice in the Anthropocene, constructing new, more equitable and caring relationships with nature and wider society.

Conclusion

I write in favour of wool, though I acknowledge it is by no means a magical solution to all environmental problems (the meat and livestock industries have their own ethical and environmental dilemmas), nor should it be used as a way for further justifying mass consumption. Wool supports arguments for multiple Anthropocene onsets; but above all highlights the importance of changing values and the entanglements of the non-human within the wider political, economic and cultural systems throughout time, as being a defining feature of this new epoch. Wool offers a path out of the Anthropocene; we have created power structures and consumerist habits that continue to degrade environments worldwide (Kidner, 2021), but these were socially constructed and can be re-made in more equitable ways. We have changed the genetics of sheep to suit our requirements and therefore have a responsibility to them, as Latour (2011) discusses – moving forward requires a change of perspective.

Technological advancement has become the benchmark for progress; however, it is not the only option. Wool offers an opportunity for widespread interdisciplinary engagement between science and the arts, bringing eco-modernist narratives out of epistemic communities where knowledge enables the powerful elite to retain control, and into the public sphere where it can be critiqued and debated. Historically the decisions that led to the devaluing of wool, work and nature, have been made by an elite few who monopolise economic spaces, but if we are to move forward, we must find ways to involve as many voices as possible. Wool highlights historical fallacy and inequalities that we can learn from and like wool in the present day, we have two options; can we ‘rebrand’ and place greater value on existing technologies, or will we too end up on the compost heap?

If you wish to use this essay please use the following reference:

Patterson, A. (2024) ‘Wool & The Anthropocene: An Essay’, Loose Ends Fibre, 9 November. Available at: https://looseendsfibre.co.uk/2025/11/09/wool-the-anthropocene-an-essay/.

With thanks to Dr Martin Mahony & Dr Dave McLaughlin who teach the wonderful Human Geographies of the Anthropocene module, and to Mark Goldthorpe for featuring my short piece about wool on the ClimateCultures website, which houses contributions from academics and creatives.

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Fibre Representations: Part 1 Fairytale Faux Pas

One of my pet peeves is watching a film or reading a book and seeing spinning, weaving or knitting represented incorrectly. I’ve seen critical commentaries before for period drama’s and sewing representations (particularly on YouTube) and found them both entertaining and informative, however I have yet to see one that looks at fibrecrafts specifically, so thought I would give it a go for a bit of fun, starting off with some well known fairytales! Since we are about to enter the realm of fantasy, I’m suspending my disbelief regarding the magical qualities these objects might possess, rather I’ll be exploring whether what is being shown/described is accurate within the context.

I’ve included images throughout, but sometimes what I’m referring to is clearer in video form – where possible, I’ve linked it to YouTube videos (not mine) showing the scene if you click on the image.

Sleeping Beauty

One of the most iconic representations of the spinning wheel is from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, but it’s also quite a misleading one…

Image: Sleeping Beauty (1959). Walt Disney Studios.

Aurora is cursed to prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel on her sixteenth birthday, but the wheel pictured above is completely spindle-less! Most spinning wheels of the above Saxony style have a bobbin rather than a spindle (though neither is actually depicted here); Charkha’s and Great wheels do have spindles (aka quill spindles) and they can be quite sharp, however these spindles sit sideways on the wheel (see below). Those two types of wheel are also usually hand operated, so would not have a footman (the long pole attached to the centre of the wheel) connecting to a treadle at the base.

Positioning of a quill spindle. Photo: https://www.ashford.co.nz/product/quill-spindle/

Spindles and bobbins are also designed to hold spun yarn, rather than the loose flax like fibre as depicted in the film, which leads me to the conclusion that what Disney’s Aurora actually pricks her finger on is a distaff (something that could either be attached or separate from the wheel to hold the fibre to be spun). Disney had the opportunity to fix this mistake in the live action Maleficent, but disappointingly never did.

Image: Maleficent (2014). Walt Disney Studios.

This time, as the spinning wheel comes together in the film I can see a bobbin and flyer, meaning this wheel definitely would not have had a quill spindle and distaffs don’t normally have very sharp metal spikes added to the top – someone could get hurt! The spinning wheel ‘graveyard’ does however raise an interesting question regarding the impact of the events of the film on women. Spinning was an important source of income for many women through the ages, so destroying all the spinning wheels would have had a devastating effect on women’s independence, not to mention the impact no spinning wheels would have had on the textile industry as a whole (but perhaps that’s something to explore another time!).

This leads me onto a more plausible depiction of the fairytale in Neil Gaiman’s The Sleeper & The Spindle, which features a strong willed female protagonist forging her own path.

Image: Gaiman, N. & Riddell, C. (2014) The Sleeper and the Spindle. London: Bloomsbury Publishing Plc.

In the book, the spindle in question is a drop spindle and looks to be a bottom whorl (the circular weight is towards the bottom), so the yarn is wound on in the correct manner (the spindle is being held upside down in this illustration). The base is unusually pointed and the whorl heavily embellished with skulls; however drop spindles come in all shapes and sizes and given it is a magic spindle within a gothic narrative, I don’t see why these customisations couldn’t exist.

Rumpelstiltskin

Unlike Sleeping Beauty, the character of Rumpelstiltskin should be adept at using a spinning wheel. One of my friends suggested I look at the spinning in a TV series called Once Upon a Time – I haven’t watched the show, but found a compilation on YouTube of the character at a wheel and was aghast at the spinning crimes being committed!

There are several types of wheel used. In some scenes Rumpelstiltskin uses a great wheel (spindles appear to be in the right place, although there is some questionable drive band placement), however he spends most of the time turning the wheel very slowly while standing or sitting, rather than doing any actual spinning (he would need to walk back and forth to draft and wind if spinning properly). In these scenes the character seems more contemplative, so I’m guessing this could have been a conscious decision for the character and would have made it easier to deliver lines since spinning takes a lot of concentration, particularly as a beginner.

There are some scenes where the actor is sitting in the right position and even appears to attempt some spinning (or at least go through the correct motions) BUT on many more occasions things have gone horribly wrong!

In several scenes (including one where the character appears to be teaching someone else) Rumpelstiltskin is sitting at the side of the spinning wheel pulling gold thread from the bobbin at speed with his hands. Anything being spun on the castle wheels in the above pictures should be going through the orifice onto the bobbin.

I assumed that perhaps the straw thread turned to gold during the unwinding, but then I saw a clip where straw was being pushed into some sort of holder on the side of the mother of all which houses the flyer and bobbin, implying it would somehow be fed through that onto the bobbin. I’m left questioning why this would be needed when it could just be threaded through the orifice as usual?

Image: ‘Once Upon a Time’ (2011-2018). ABC Studios.

I also need to return to the unwinding; it is unwise to start removing yarn from the bobbin without having something like a niddy-noddy or skein/ball winder to hand, lest your hard work end up a tangled mess. During the unwinding depicted the flyer is moving quite fast, which suggests the tension hasn’t been released in these scenes (fully release the tension and only the bobbin should be moving). Unwinding under tension makes the process harder and could lead to yarn breakages, but flyers also have metal hooks which could catch on yarn being unwound, or the spinners hand at speed.

I will close on a literary depiction (thank you to the legend of YA fantasy @kbbookreviewer for suggesting this one to me!). I haven’t read Gilded, however Marissa Meyer has clearly done her research into spinning.

The straw was nothing like the thick, fuzzy wool she was used to, but she inhaled a deep breath anyway and loaded the first empty bobbin onto the flyer. […] Usually she started with a leader yarn, to make it easier for the wool to wrap around the bobbin, but she had no yarn. Shrugging, she tied on a piece of straw. The first one broke, but the second held. Now what? She couldn’t just twist the ends together to form one long strand.
Could she?
She twisted and twisted.
It held sort of.
“Good enough,” she muttered, running the leader yarn through the hooks, then out through the maiden hole. The entire setup was beyond precarious, ready to fall apart as soon as she pulled too tight or released those weakly connected strands. Afraid to let go, she leaned over and used her nose to push down on one of the wheel’s spokes, so that it gradually started to turn. “Here we go,” she said, pressing her foot onto the treadle. The straw pulled from her fingers.

(Meyer, M. (2021), p.99, Gilded. London: Faber & Faber.)

I enjoyed this description of an attempt to spin straw into gold for two reasons; the process is described accurately, from the loading of the bobbin to the use of a leader and the threading of the yarn through the orifice, but I also think the nerves and failure described, resonate with all spinners trying out a new fibre for the first time. There’s nothing worse than getting set up at your wheel, only to find you haven’t secured your yarn properly to the leader and watching it get snatched from your hands. For first time spinners, spinning any kind of yarn can seem just as impossible as spinning straw into gold does for this character, and I think that giving it a go despite the odds stacked against you is a good message to end on.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey into fairytale spinning – there’ll be a part 2 later in the month that won’t be so spinning focused. If you have any more depictions of good or bad spinning, weaving, or other fibrecrafts that you think I should see, do let me know in the comments below!

Welcome to Wovember 2025!

Happy Wovember!

This is my 5th year taking part in Wovember – a month celebrating everything wool. If you’re curious about how Wovember started you can visit the original website here and also the newer Love Wovember website. In previous years I’ve explored what wool is, given book recommendations, investigated the connections between wool and fairytales/mythology and released some Wovember Wind Down videos (I have a new Wovember’s Past page should you want to explore the archive).

This year I’ll be exploring how accurately spinning & weaving are represented in film and literature, sharing academic contemplations and tackling some projects using the Black Welsh Mountain fleece I’ve recently been processing (if all goes to plan, by the end of Wovember I’ll be looking more like the wool witch I’ve been affectionately termed!). There’s no word prompt challenge on Instagram this year, (though I’m sure Wovemberists will still be sharing woolly gems of information throughout the month), but I thought it would be fun to share some woolly knowledge in the comments section too; so do feel free to share any fun and interesting wool facts, references/bloggers/woolly people you recommend, or questions you have about wool on any posts throughout the month!

I look forward to joining you over the coming weeks – and if you or anyone you know is also running with Wovember in their own way do let me know!

Fibre Prep: Black Welsh Mountain

The Fleece

I purchased this fleece from an online marketplace several years ago when I was just starting out and hadn’t heard of yarn shows, made connections with local flock owners, or discovered breed societies selling fleece online. I also didn’t know that when buying fleece, it’s always good to check for weaknesses in the yarn by tensioning a lock in your hands as any snapped fibres indicate a poorer quality fleece. The seller contacted me apologising that the fleece had got unexpectedly damp in storage and that they could dry it out before sending it to me, or refund me, and I opted for the former as I was happy to take a chance and the fleece wasn’t pricey.

I’ve since read several spinning books which suggest that any fleece that isn’t up to standard is only good for compost, and while wool contains a lot of nutrients, I’m of the opinion that all but the most dirty, tangled fleeces can be used for something – it just takes a bit more preparation and thinking outside the box, so hopefully these BWM posts will serve as inspiration for anyone wondering what to do with an imperfect fleece.

Washing

Once the fleece arrived I inspected it (there was very little VM or particularly dirty areas), washed it in the suint bath and then detergent, dried it thoroughly and stored it in a cloth sack indoors until I had time to process it. Unfortunately I don’t have any photos of the washing as I didn’t record as much in my early days of blogging!

Combing

When I got the fleece out ahead of this year’s TDF I tested to see if the fibres snapped in my hands – some did, but most of the fleece seemed ok. I decided to comb rather than card as combing separates out the longer and shorter fibres and would also separate out any broken fibres from the combed tops. This would give me the best fleece to spin with and mean that I could use the combing ‘waste’ to felt with, as any broken fibres wouldn’t matter.

Baskets of combing waste, combed nests and some very dusty wool combs

Combing was fairly straightforward, although some areas had a shorter staple length, which made combing a little more challenging. It produced more combing waste than I was expecting, which is good for the felting project, not so good for spinning, but happily the project I have planned for that shouldn’t require too much yarn!

Since my experience with this fleece is likely to be different to working with better quality BWM fleeces, do feel free to share your experiences in the comments below!

Happy Crafting!

Further Reading about Black Welsh Mountain:

  • Breed Society Website – https://blackwelshmountain.org.uk/
  • British Sheep & Wool by the British Wool Marketing Board – ISBN 9780904969108
  • The Field Guide to Fleece by Deborah Robson & Carol Ekarius – ISBN 9781612121789
  • The Fleece & Fiber Sourcebook by Deborah Robson & Carol Ekarius – ISBN 9781603427111