Eloise Grey Ethical Fashion Business Blog

Tracey Neuls For Dinner

I couldn't resist sharing a few photos I found on my phone of my visit to the Tracey Neuls shop a few months ago. You may know from my previous post about Tracey Neuls that I have a very soft spot for her work and raved about her artfully curated shop. Her SS11 collection is themed around dinner:

I love her work for it's creativity, humour and all round Britishness. I might see if I can borrow some shoes for my SS12 shoot as they would complement perfectly. Here, another image from outside:

The shoes are most delicious and the shop a work of art. She also sometimes works with veg-tanned leather. The shop is at 29 Marylebone Lane, London W1U 2NQ.

Ancient Marbles in Liverpool

Inspired by Edmund de Waal's masterful work, The Hare With Amber Eyes, I found myself wanting to explore a collection that had been in my grandmother's family. As I had a visit scheduled to her north of Liverpool, I thought I'd try and find an hour to visit the Walker Art Gallery. My favourite piece was this beautiful pot: (I'm sure a more gracious term exists)

The Walker hosts the 'modern' collection, which dates from the Renaissance onwards, including this piece. Mostly, the work is figurative, but this pot inspired me the most. I loved the simplicity and movement of the figures which mirrored the flowing lines of the base and lid.

The rest of the collection, which is of original Greek and Roman marbles, is apparently in the Museum of Liverpool. I shall have to visit this next time. But for the simple fact of my grandmother being born a girl, this collection went to distant cousins and eventually to the town of Liverpool, close to Ince Blundell. It doesn't compare to the tragedy recounted in de Waal's book, but I reflect on this with sadness. I am glad, though, that it is more or less in tact and is in public hands, even if not much of it is on display. I admire this rather parochial but ambitious collector and distant ancestor, Henry Blundell, who built a scaled-down replica of the Pantheon in Rome, to house his spectacular collection:

Maybe he should have created an Act of Parliament, like Sir John Soane, to ensure his house and collection would remain in tact. A curious, though not surprising, use of Parliament in the 19th century.

Giving Life To Ethical Fashion - Lucy Siegle's Book 'To Die For'

Lucy Siegle is the most prominent journalist in the UK exposing the dark underbelly of the fashion industry. So it was with much anticipation that I read her recently published book, To Die For. Lucy is the ethical colunmist for The Observer.

A passioned, yet rigourously researched study of the whole industry from high street to luxury conglomerates, Lucy uncovers foul practice far and wide. Not much was a surprise to me (obviously preaching to the converted) but knowing the detail and travelling the journey was affecting in the way it should be. Depressingly, I have to say that it made me feel rather like giving up what I do. The oceanic forces seemed to be going the other way from the structure of globalised fashion to the way consumers are buying and following trends. I found particularly interesting, though appalling, her study of fashion trends (micro-trends/cheapskating etc), the relationship to celebrity culture and seismic change that has taken place in wardrobe growth.

She charts the environmental impact of the fashion industry from the consumer perspective to the global corporates but the real thrust of this opus is the ethical analysis: what's fair and just. For a comprehensive view of textiles from a sustainable perspective I also recommend Kate Fletcher's Sustainable Textile Journeys.

I like the way she brings it back to our own wardrobes time and time again, making it relevant. Her conclusion, or so it seemed to me, was to spend a little more, buy for the long term (special pieces) rather than being a trend slave, ask the right questions when out shopping about where your clothes are produced and by whom, and consider environmental impact of the garment through its whole life cycle.

It made me think about style and how developing your own style is a good way of future-proofing yourself against trends. If you develop your own style you have a confidence to wear colours in your own way, try silhouettes, play with texture, combine different looks without having to be a slave to trend. Develop a love of clothes that's based on who you are and what delights you rather than taking the lead from mags and celebs. This might be what we can give others: help them detatch themselves from that so-called  'democratising' force of cheap clothing and unleash their own creativity.

In Praise of Farnham Saddlers - Bespoke Dog Collars

You may suspect me of being a horse-riding type, being from rural Surrey. I developed a chip on my shoulder about horses at a young age. I went to the type of school where lots of girls had ponies. However, I was sent to that school because it was hoped that the nuns would be a worthy investment in my after-life. I got over my horsey non-affiliation when I heard that a nice lady called Karen made dog collars and leads at Farnham Sadlers on West Street. It's a lovely old-fashioned shop that sells leather wear: handbags, suitcases, belts, wallets, riding clothes, posh wellies that sort of thing.

So imagine my joy when I heard that I could chose the leather, width, fittings and so on. Also, they were delighted to meet Juno and kindly shut the door so their shop dog and Juno could have some fun. Here is Karen and the dogs in a calmer state after 100 laps of the central display:

Also, when Ms J ate through her lead in the pub one night, they repaired it for nothing. What service.

Some Green Reading and My Next Car Will Be Electric

It's curious what makes you read a book. I have such a backlog of 'must reads' that I am always trying to resist the constant temptation to impulse buy. But then, often I have heard about a book, only to forget the name, where I heard about it, and wanted to read it after all. There was a bit of a buzz about The Great Disruption by Australian Paul Gilding on Twitter. But I think I picked up on attractive comments such as 'the end of shopping' and 'a deeply optimistic message' and took the plunge.

I seem to be desperate to find the ultimate answer to our problems, seeking out these answers to the environmental crisis, but also about many other aspects of life. Disappointingly the answers are never entirely there. Only part of the answer. Maybe it's simply the stuff of existence; solutions are fleeting, vague, visible only in restrospect.

So I read the book with a great appetite. I wanted to believe the optimistic message that we'll be ok, when I was feeling mighty gloomy about the environmantal calamity in front of us, even sometimes losing the will to continue my own personal lifestyle campaign. No one else does it, why fight the tide going the other way? So this book came at the right time. Gilding is an entrepreneurial environmentalist, former Executive Director of Greenpeace International, who went on to create his own corporate consultancy. He appears to be a systems theorist, but really one of these highly networked polymaths who can draw on many disciplines. 

Briefly, his argument is that we'll get to a crisis point, the "Great Disruption", followed by the "Great Awakening", which will cause everyone to wake up. It will be too late for many species and there will be much death and distruction but we'll still stop and change. He equated it to the mobilisation and alliance-making of the Second World War. We will all work together to work towards a 1 degree of global warming, which he provides details on what we have to do. The usual..cut deforestation, car & air travel and so on.

How the world will function is less clear. He proposed the zero-growth model (or the steady-state economic model). The theory being that our growth-driven society is what causes us to use up all our resources in this irresponsible manner. The analysis is good but, as usual, the solution was short on meat for me. I believe it; the growth model is the problem. But, how are we really going to get this change underway? How will we work and live, and trade? It's not clear enough. But, I do really recommend this. It's compelling stuff. I took away from it that I want to develop my knowledge, continue living the way I feel is right, structure my business similarly and hope that this sea-change will happen and be part of it having established a reputation before it becomes a big trend with critical mass.

The zero-growth model needs fleshing out. Our economies, as indeed all global economies are based on this, however flawed, system and we'd be opting for the slow lane if we opted out of it. The alternative isn't clear in practice unless you espouse a seductively charming pre-industrialisation model. Next I suppose I'll have to read Professor Tim Jackson's Prosperity Without Growth.

On a more practical level I really recommend is How To Live a Low Carbon Life by Chris Goodall. It had been a gift and I'd been told it was the best guide to how to live a low carbon life. Surprisingly readable, though maybe I was thirsty for this information.

I don't agree with what he says about wool (that it consumes more carbon in the production). It consumes considerably less in the use phase than cotton as it absorbs dirt less. However, it is thorough and comprehensive and I took away a few key messages. One was that typically when people invest in low-carbon generating products or change their infrastructure, they then indulge in other ways. For example, they insulate their houses and they then enjoy a lovely warm toasty house, rather than turning down the heating to save more money. The other standout message was that it's trips to our friends that really make a difference to our carbon footprint. It's true - and hard to give up. It's difficult to say, 'Sorry I can't come and see you as I am reducing my carbon footprint'. 'Most people' would not understand, find it a bit annoying, and probably tease you or at least raise and exasperated eyebrow.

 
So I think long and hard about my own choices. Then when it comes to it, act rather spontaneously. Or, do you? You think long and hard and then you act suddenly and maybe that thinking has influenced it. I like to think so. A year ago I was very earnestly trying to live the message and tried to share a car with my partner, and got the bus to work in Farnham. This was so unusual for someone under 70 that it felt quite novel. However, waiting sometimes half an hour for the last bus (at 5) and the first only leaving at 10 it was a sacrifice. I'm not sure if it was because it felt like a lonely struggle. I did enjoy it but then, as my life gradually became very stressful, I just thought I'd had enough of being earnest and started driving again. I can't help feeling, though, that doing it on my own was a large part of the burden.

I knew I needed to replace my car; it was costing me too much in repairs and it was consuming too much petrol for my needs. It lacked glamour too. I nearly got an electric car with the idea of hiring a car for long journeys; so I'd need to plan carefully and this would make me drive less. But then I discovered you couldn't take dogs in hire cars so that was a no-no. (We'll leave the environmental impact of having a dog to another post). Then I found came across the Fiat 500 - which had all these environmental credentials. Low CO2 emissions, low petrol consumption, no car tax, no congestion charge. Having lived in Italy for 5 years, I have a lot of affection for the original 'Cinquecento' and this has lots of that charm. The design is delightful, retro cool, with lovely interiors.

I know it's not good to drive, but if you do then best to do it in a thoughtful way.  On that note I might also encourage you read Emotionally Durable Design by Jonathan Chapman. It's all about the use side of products. They should endure emotionally (you want to keep them, use them, wear them) so you value them rather than dispose of them. I enjoy my new car, and so, incidentally, does Miss Doggy. This emotional connection to the products you have is a key factor in how I approach my work.

It was a significant step as I had wanted to give up the car, but living outside London, 5 miles from the nearest station, with irregular bus services, it was a struggle. Also, as Chris Goodall says, you need to cut down on visiting friends. It's another hard one.

But, maybe, as Paul Gilding says, the time will come when we do all embrace this and I'll be there. But it is hard to be a lone voice in the wilderness. Maybe this sea-change will happen and we'll all start giving up cars or at least change our behaviour. I suspect that when we do change, and look back 5 years we think how unconscious we were. Then another five years will pass and we'll do the same big leap. I believe Paul, but I also believe that there will be much destruction, death and land erosion at the same time. So, I am optimistic that our behaviour will change. It will become socially unacceptable to behave in this carbon-binge way, and consequently easier to go with a the low-carbon flow. I hope my next car will be electric or that I'll even be able to live without a car at all.

Royal Wedding Souvenir Blog Post

Inspired by the wall-to-wall souvenir issues at the newsagent, I thought a few pictures would be good for posterity. Here are some taken on my phone from my day watching the royal wedding with some dear friends in Oxfordshire.

My own made-by-me bunting:

 

Emma Bridgewater made a fine selection of memorabilia.

A charming book illustrated by Walter Crane I found in the V&A

My Father and His Watercolour Life

Some of you know that my annual sample sale coincides with a much more established tradition. Whilst my Spring sample sale is merely in its fourth year, my father's exhibition is in its forty-first. In fact, originally I piggy-backed on his flock of visitors, though luckily I now get a following in my own right.

My father, also known as Richard Grey, has been a lover and collector of watercolours since he was just out of his teens. He paints too, oils and in fact he was actually a lawyer his whole working life. Collecting 18th & 19th century watercolours, even though he is one of the experts in the country, doesn't support a large family. In the days before flexible working, he managed to wangle a four day week at his law firm. As a child, on our long haul car journey to Aberdeenshire to see the grandparents, we'd often be stuck in the car outside obscure places on the way while Dad and fellow watercolour collector would sniff each other's wares.

Each year, just before Easter and culminating on Palm Sunday, he throws open the house to all with this year's collection. I like this use of the domestic space in this way. It's intimate and sociable in a way that public galleries aren't. It suits my Dad and his modest personal style.

Watercolours, especially of this era, are a particularly British tradition. If you have managed to get to the Tate Britain Watercolour Exhibition which is on now, you may have experienced some of the extraordinary and subtle effects watercolours can achieve. At my father's exhibition there are normally works by artists such as Samuel Prout, George Barret and the painter of the watercolour below, by David Cox Junior:

My show takes place in the barn. Both the main house and the barn are of historic interest as they were recently identified as dating back to 1442. My sample show and Richard Grey's Watercolour Exhibition are from Friday 15th to Sunday 17th April 2011, 11 - 6pm at The Old Farmhouse, Farnham Road, Elstead, Surrey GU8 6DB. The house is more or less opposite the Golden Fleece pub on the main road going through Elstead and there is plenty of parking inside.

 

Vitra Design Emporium

Each time I go to Basel, I go once a year or so to visit my brother, I find something new and approach life in a different way. This is what's nice about staying with other people especially in other countries; you do life their way. One thing we do is get on a bike and cycle somewhere like France to a Michelin-starred restaurant. Or, less than an hour's cycle ride away over into Germany, you can visit the Vitra factory and The Vitra design museum in a town called Weil-am-Rheim. It's only about 20 mins by car so easily accessible if you're staying in Basel. When I first visited it, they had the factory and the museum and called it The Vitra Campus. But now they have the VitraHaus, designed by Basel architects Herzog de Meuron (architects of the Tate Modern), which is a concept store. Vitra is essentially German company that produces furniture. They work with the best designers and have exclusive license to produce their work. You will probably recognise these pieces, for example:

by Verner Panton

Or these fun elephant stools by Charles Eames (originally designed in 1945)

Or more recent work such as this chair by Ronan and Erwan Bouroullec:

Much as I lament in my romantic way the impact of manufacturing on skills and quality, I would certainly make the exception here. The work is produced to the highest standards with great expertise and using the finest materials. I suppose it's a combination of exacting German standards with longevity through quality of structure and design that lasts decades. I love these 1950s clocks:

They have a fully audited sustainabiity report. I like the way this is an, albeit rather stellar, 'normal company' which is bringing sustainability closer to it's core.

I went to this place before the Haus opened last year. When we went, we got on the architecture tour. I can't recommend this more because there is something a little Ikea about the Haus. Whereas, the architecture tour is rather intimate and serious.

Family-run and integral to the community of Weil-am-Rheim, the Vitra company champions architecture and for each building the commissioned world-famous architects. Such as this building by Nicholas Grimshaw:

and this building by Alvaro Siza:

the owners were so keen on architecture that they bought, and re-erected this splendid 1950's gas station by Jean Prouvé

One of the most recent buildings is the fire station built by Zaha Hadid.

Her work is interesting in many ways - though a little disconcerting there are no right angles. I felt a little like I was being toyed with, like I was in a Pirandello play. It was intriguing.

My favourite space was the conference space designed by Japanese architect Tadao Ando. There was something monastic about the experience. You had to enter the building in single file, which felt like a respectful ritual. Wherever you are you are supposed to see a cherry tree as the space on which the building was erected there were cherry trees all around.

I liked the simplicity of the materials and the use of lighting. Note that you can see the cherry trees even though you are in a basement.

This re-ignites my desire to go to Japan. I hope to go next year.  My thoughts are with their trauma. My work is informed by a Japanese approach to materials and a respectful way of treating every detail. I felt this aesthetic and seriousness in this space.

Next to this building was the museum. When I first went there was a fabulous exhibition by the Brazilian Campana brothers. I suppose pioneers of upcycling - they used waste from the favelas to create art and design objects. The museum is by Frank Gehry:

It has made me reflect on the nature of design and how my work relates to this approach. I do feel in some way that this was like Ikea for more literate, more moneyed consumers. However, especially in the intimacy of the architecture tour I felt the connection with the community of the town, so integral to the factory. The attention to quality of function, creative expression and how we live is important. I suppose my reservation was how the shopping experience is now part of this, how car loads of expensive German cars are flocking here, families, at the weekend to 'shop' and see. I love and respect beautiful things, and honour companies that have a strong culture - which is much broader than being a pure financial vehicle. Maybe it's that it's modern and I'm a little more grounded in traditional skills - ways of making. I favour the artisan, the rougher-hewn piece, the work that has a closer connection to the land. Factories are a little disconnected. Maybe that's what drew me to Tadao's architecture. Its modernist purity appealed to the esthete, the monastic, and the ever-present cherry trees reconnected me with the land and the cycle of seasons. 

However, I have to say that I admired enormously the integrated approach that revealed the whole vision of the company; invited its customers and admirers into its inner workings and shared them. I think it's on the right side of consumerism, on balance. It shows a respect for the object, the materials and the worker and the customer alike.

My Old Studio

I've moved studios, again. But, just after I left, I received these pictures from a talented photography student at UCA Farnham called Hannah Rowsell. She approached me to take some pictures of me for a portrait project. As you can see there was a bit or upheaval, but I quite like it.

That was the week that Juno arrived.  Poor thing, she'd been abandoned and had been in kennels. You'll be glad to hear that she's put on several kilos.

This was also the week of the dog jacket making project as I wrote about last time.

I remember when I was starting out someone told me that if you have a creative job the reality is that you spend at least four days doing marketing, admin, accounts and stuff like that for every day making or designing. It's absolutely true, I spend many hours at the Mac face.

But that week it was more making and packing. One of the secrets of sewing nicely and tailoring in particular, is not about the sewing; it's about the ironing: the pressing. I was 'cool pressing' the jacket ties here. You sometimes need to fold a seam really flat and so what you do is press first with your steam iron nice and hot, then you get your cold iron and press hard and, somehow, it seems to flatten everything really nicely.

I got this iron from a brocante shop in Normandy, France. I returned from my shopping trip with three old irons to a chorus of hilarity from my sister's family. I bought them because they looked nice and only cost me 3 euros. But, they turned out to be amazingly useful as weights (for pattern paper and card) and for cold pressing as above.

I was packing a nice parcel to send some knitwear to New York. It's funny, I really enjoy packing up products to send out. I try as far as possible to use natural materials, especially brown paper.

I haven't put my small vintage collection on the website, but here is a nice 1970s cape. Let me know if you like it.

I love the depth of these images. They have an intensity - without being too hard. Serious, textural and they draw you in. I think Hannah has great talent.

So it's true, my stay at Farnham Maltings was less than a year. I loved being there. It was a great community, especially Sally and David at the box office (dog lovers too). But, having avoided it for months, I really did have to spend a few weeks at the Mac looking at my figures and my business with a cold stare. It became clear that my local strategy, so close to my heart, wasn't working. My customers appear to be mainly online and in the flesh mostly in London. I have had to cut costs in a major way.

At the same time, I have more space at home and have created a whole new studio out of room that was a moth-ridden storage space. Largely out of fear of moths I've had to do a major spring clean and clear out everything, re-store and pack into vacuum bags and discover a pest control expert (who had been to a birthday party of my older brothers' in Elstead when they were still in short trousers). I found an exhausting Sunday to whitewash the unloved room and I now have a wonderful room, that is a showroom, a work room and a creative moth-free haven.

 

 

 

 

 

Doggy Delights

I tore open the latest edition of Selvedge Magazine as soon as it landed on my doorstop. Late as ever, but, rather like my dog, I always feel forgiveness for such misdemeanours when I experience its delights. This time, it's full of animal themed treats, especially doggy things. It inspired me to share some of my dog-themed projects from the last year or so.

We always had dogs as I was growing up but no one told me what a pleasure they are when you form a close bond. It is quite special. I have to confess that it did revolve around trying to find solutions to protecting my carpet, clothes, shoes and furniture from destruction and staining but the upshot was I had a new joy in my life.

The stuff you get in the shops expensive, mostly made in China out of synthetics and decidedly unappealing. So I found myself making things for the dog. Let's start with my most recent creation. I might just add that I make these in a rather hurried way over a couple of evenings. They don't quite receive the same attention to detail my coats receive. I made this oversized dog bed out of three old pillows, an old blanket, another piece of fabric and two old sun lounger covers of my grandmothers' in a nice 1950s print:

This dog in front is Juno, my fairly new-to-me dog. The one behind is my mother's ageing Tibetan Terrier, who I sometimes look after. Juno is approximately 7 months old, according to the vet. She's a rescue dog, abandoned. She's had a good go at an old upholstered chair this morning so I am a little exhasperated. However, she's really an angel and her fur is soft as a rabbit. I suppose that might not last as she's still a puppy. When I got her from the rescue centre, she had a jacket on because it was November and she slept outside and so was cold. I dropped everything and made a tweed jacket for her. I was terrified that she would get cold and I saw that other sight hounds (such as whippets, greyhounds and lurchers) wearing these on the common and assumed that she would need one too.

So I made her a nice one in a large off-cut of organic Silver Herringbone. I lined it with a piece of old blanket. As it happens, she doesn't really need it, except if I have to leave her in a cold car or something. She seems pretty hardy and I reckoned that if I saw her shivering, then that would be a time to get the coat out. Plus, I read this wonderful book, Inside of a Dog, by Alexandra Horowitz. Horowitz is an unabashed dog lover and also cognitive scientist who has directed her studies towards dogs and dispels many of the myths propagated by dog trainers, to my relief. She confirmed my suspicions that dogs are just fine without jackets.

 

Before getting Juno, there was Scooter. A half apparently-lurcher who's father is the village Romeo and half Tibetan Terrier, my mother's dog as pictured above; he was my first true doggy love.

 

He was very sporting. In fact, when my photgraphers IHeartStudios told me they were running a dressed-up dog competition to cheer up Friday afternoons, I thought we had to go for this challenge, especially as I had some teenagers in the house. They were Doctor Who mad and it was shortly after the news of the new Doctor and his tweed jacket styling.  So we fished out a tweed jacket and bow tie and managed to even find a darlek. 

Some people think it a little mean to dress a dog up like a human. It's a dog and should be treated as a dog. But, I've always loved William Wegman's dog fashion photographs. He styled his dog in Versace and other designers. It's so funny and endearing but at the same time a little strange and uncomfortable. I quite like that mix. I have to confess, however, that I was a little concerned that the RSPCA might disapprove so I was rather shy about these pictures when I was up for my RSPCA Good Business Awards so they are only coming out now.

To my great distress I no longer have Scooter. Too sad to say more in this blog, but it was a dreadful wrench. I never really understood the connection people have with animals, nor the loss they experience and the lengths they go to for their beloved pets until I had a dog. In the midst of my grief, I went to Origin, the craft show in London in which I exhibited a couple of years ago. Amongst all the beautiful, high-minded craft from makers such as Helen Beard, Ptolemy Mann, I stopped, mesmerised, at this stand "Knit Your Own Dog".There were about twenty different breeds of dog, all in knitted yarn. The makers and authors, Sally Muir and Joanna Osborne were most sympathetic and interested in the loss of my half lurcher half Tibetan Terrier. You could buy their book, or a kit, or an already-knitted dog of your own in the breed you wanted.

We decided that the best strategy was to buy the book and then I could use their patterns to knit the dog I wanted. I looked in my rather neglected knitting bag and found some organic ardalanish wool and got going, ignoring the suggestions of what wool you should use. Of course, mine came out bigger than the ones in the book, and a little wonkier. But, I like to think, they do have considerable charm. However, they say that creativity is a great cure for depression and loss. It was indeed.

Knitted dog number 1, a whippet, went to Thomas (6).

Number 2, a border collie, went to Lucas (6 m).

Doggy number three, a pug, went to David (grown up box office manager and pug lover at Farnham Maltings)

Next up was the corgi, this one was named Rosie and Jonty (6) is the proud owner.

The most recent one, just in time for Christmas, went to Seth (4). He decided it was Juno, even though I couldn't quite get across that it was a Jack Russell and not a Lurcher.

 You can make them in a few evenings, and aren't too difficult if you've got the basic knitting skills. I messed up a few times with the increasing and so on but I wasn't aiming for perfection so it was fine.