When you grow up in the Hebrides among your tough Harris Tweed-clad menfolk and the smell of wet tweed and feel of rough wool is as familiar to you as your own skin you have permission to mess with it.
The ancient coming together of our island sheep wool in woven and knitted form is an eternal delight for the senses.
In tiny stone homes folk carded the wool and spun it making threads that bound communities of hand knitters and weavers in industry and clothed, as it turned out, the world.
Slamming Harris Tweed fabric up against Harris wool or any other pure wool feels natural.
To be wild with it; to let the ragged edges show, bare, to cut it imperfectly, to cherish tiny pieces of fibres and let them sing a different tune feels like an evolution of our Hebridean spirit.
As an indigenous Hebridean woman taught a traditional craft of our people, playing with our natural fibres makes my heart sing.
A hydrangea cutting from last year decided to make Spring even more exciting by creating its first ever flower when nothing else bloomed in the garden. Brought indoors its single blossom came to be appreciated and admired all day long for weeks and weeks. Thanks to its beautiful influence this Spring I was drawn to …
When Faerie Magazine tweeted about the interview with INNER WILD last week, {what a magical experience that was!} it reminded me how shocked I was when I realised how many INNER WILD creations I’ve modelled over the years wearing fairy paraphernalia. And yes, even with an actual fairy! How have I accumulated so many pairs …
Hello Autumn you beautiful harvest season of misty mornings, long nights and mellow fruitfulness. We surrender to crisp leaves crackling underfoot, the zing of cold air sharp in our lungs and the soothing, cosseting bliss of wrapping ourselves in layers upon layers of natural, hand knitted wool, silk, cashmere, alpaca . . .
We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue to use this site we will assume that you are happy with it.OK
As familiar as skin: Harris Tweed
When you grow up in the Hebrides among your tough Harris Tweed-clad menfolk and the smell of wet tweed and feel of rough wool is as familiar to you as your own skin you have permission to mess with it.
The ancient coming together of our island sheep wool in woven and knitted form is an eternal delight for the senses.
In tiny stone homes folk carded the wool and spun it making threads that bound communities of hand knitters and weavers in industry and clothed, as it turned out, the world.
Slamming Harris Tweed fabric up against Harris wool or any other pure wool feels natural.
To be wild with it; to let the ragged edges show, bare, to cut it imperfectly, to cherish tiny pieces of fibres and let them sing a different tune feels like an evolution of our Hebridean spirit.
As an indigenous Hebridean woman taught a traditional craft of our people, playing with our natural fibres makes my heart sing.
Related Posts
Spring: blossom inspiration
A hydrangea cutting from last year decided to make Spring even more exciting by creating its first ever flower when nothing else bloomed in the garden. Brought indoors its single blossom came to be appreciated and admired all day long for weeks and weeks. Thanks to its beautiful influence this Spring I was drawn to …
Inspiration: Faerie Magazine
When Faerie Magazine tweeted about the interview with INNER WILD last week, {what a magical experience that was!} it reminded me how shocked I was when I realised how many INNER WILD creations I’ve modelled over the years wearing fairy paraphernalia. And yes, even with an actual fairy! How have I accumulated so many pairs …
Autumn feelings
Hello Autumn you beautiful harvest season of misty mornings, long nights and mellow fruitfulness. We surrender to crisp leaves crackling underfoot, the zing of cold air sharp in our lungs and the soothing, cosseting bliss of wrapping ourselves in layers upon layers of natural, hand knitted wool, silk, cashmere, alpaca . . .