The Knitwear Revival: Why I’m Rebuilding What Was Almost Lost

For the past ten years, I’ve had one north star: to revive the British knitwear industry. Not in a nostalgic way, and not to create a museum piece, but as something living — worn, loved and, most importantly, made to last.

After years of working in the fashion industry for luxury and premium brands, I began to notice something uncomfortable: labels celebrated “British heritage,” yet very little was actually made here. The factories had closed. The skills were disappearing. Machinery was being sold off or quietly scrapped.

What made me realise this wasn’t my day job, but the way I spent my holidays and personal time — visiting knitwear factories, buying old industrial machines, restoring them in my studio and knitting late into the night. I met former knitters who had lost their jobs in the 1980s when production moved overseas. Craftspeople who had waited, hoping work would return, only to eventually pack down their machines. I heard of factories closing due to rising costs, and others because there was no one to pass the skills on to.

What struck me most wasn’t just the loss of work, but the loss of community. Entire towns built around knitwear had gone quiet, with younger generations moving away in search of new careers.

However, I can now say a quiet revolution is underway in British manufacturing, driven by makers who refuse to let heritage craft disappear. Many knitters have come out of retirement to knit again, even if only for a short period, and new factories have opened. I wanted to be part of that shift, to give these knitters the chance to knit again.

In 2015, I launched my brand with a commitment to manufacture in the UK. It wasn’t easy. It took years to save enough to buy an industrial knitting machine and find a studio large enough to house it. But in 2025, in our tenth year, we opened our own micro-factory in Hertfordshire — not just to produce garments, but to protect and rebuild skills.

Here, we make fully fashioned knitwear using heritage techniques and modern design. We invest in quality over quantity. We bring craft, knowledge and production under one roof. This year, we took on our first apprentice to train in linking — the construction of a garment. Next is hand intarsia, a skill now held by just a handful of masters in the Scottish Borders. I plan to shadow them, learn and immerse myself in the craft, and then pass it on. Because crafts can’t skip a generation.

Over the years, I’ve collected and restored machines that would otherwise have been scrapped. I’ve trained alongside the last makers who know how to run them. And I’ve seen first-hand that revival doesn’t happen through wishful thinking — it happens through action. It’s hard work. It isn’t driven by money. It’s driven by something deeper: a raw pride in making something well.

Last week, I met a customer who bought one of my hand-knit cashmere jumpers eight years ago. She was still wearing it. It looked beautiful and was still in amazing condition. But more than that, it had become part of her life. That is the point. Heritage craft isn’t about the past, it’s about longevity. It’s about natural fibres, real skill and garments that become part of you. It’s about reconnecting people to the story behind what they wear, and why it matters.

And the best part? I’m not the only one championing these crafts. Across the UK, I’m seeing a quiet revolution. Small brands are choosing to manufacture locally, from weaving and leatherwork to button making. Founders are investing in skills to rebuild capacity before it disappears, ensuring supply chains remain intact. Because it doesn’t take much to break a chain.

Heritage and innovation aren’t opposites. They are the foundations of a resilient, sustainable future. This year, my focus is simple: to connect and train a new generation of makers, upskill locally, build community and keep the machines running, so British knitwear continues to be iconic and loved around the world.