Several years ago, I got the above Shetland tweed jacket in an end of the year sale at J. Press. It was probably about 75% off, maybe more. It didn't cost a great deal, and I kind of wondered if I was buying a pig in a poke, but I've come to like it a great deal. It not only has that warm horse blanket feel about it, but it also has very natural shoulders and soft construction. It's also most like wearing a cardigan with lapels. Most of all, however, without being loud, it is simply one of the most colorfully complex tweeds I have ever seen. So I was recently very surprised to see a jacket made from the same soft Shetland tweed cloth being offered by O'Connell's (below) on their website.
It's obviously cut from the same cloth as my J. Press Shetland tweed jacket, and is no doubt a well-made jacket. It looks to have very natural shoulders, perfect lapels and a nice 3/2 button roll. They've also picked up the rust windowpane in the jacket by pairing it with a rust foulard tie.
One of the things that I find fascinating about tweed is the sheer amount of color that some tweeds contain. I have an old brown Harris Tweed herringbone that appears to be solid brown, but also has flecks or kneps of red, blue and green in it. It is very subtle, but the colors are there when examined closely. The tweed jacket above is much more complex than the above images (mine and O'Connell's) suggest. O'Connell's likens it to the "Argyle & Sutherland" coloration, and it is indeed suggestive of that. Just don't wear that regimental tie with this tweed. In addition to the grey and brown tones evident above, this tweed sort of shimmers in the light with yellows, blues, greens and even a bit of purple. In spite of the name of this blog, I know very little about the actual manufacture of tweed. Sure, I've watched with great interest and fascination videos showing tweed manufacture on the internet, and increased my knowledge a bit, but I still have no hands on experience making it, which is probably what it takes to move beyond the rote memorization of tweed names to a level of genuine understanding. If I was able to make the yarns, set up the warp and the weft of the loom, and even have a hand at weaving, then I might understand a bit more about why this jacket behaves like it does in the light. Though I think that such understanding probably takes years of diligent labor, not merely a single hands on sort of experience. Such tacit knowledge comes solely from an experience of active participation that leads to, not only mastery of a task, but also to a level of circumspection that allows one to understand the process of a given task and its outcome. The persons that are involved in making the yarns and weaving them have both a knowledge and an understanding of tweed that I will never have, and I simply can't learn that sort of thing from a book.
It's obviously cut from the same cloth as my J. Press Shetland tweed jacket, and is no doubt a well-made jacket. It looks to have very natural shoulders, perfect lapels and a nice 3/2 button roll. They've also picked up the rust windowpane in the jacket by pairing it with a rust foulard tie.
One of the things that I find fascinating about tweed is the sheer amount of color that some tweeds contain. I have an old brown Harris Tweed herringbone that appears to be solid brown, but also has flecks or kneps of red, blue and green in it. It is very subtle, but the colors are there when examined closely. The tweed jacket above is much more complex than the above images (mine and O'Connell's) suggest. O'Connell's likens it to the "Argyle & Sutherland" coloration, and it is indeed suggestive of that. Just don't wear that regimental tie with this tweed. In addition to the grey and brown tones evident above, this tweed sort of shimmers in the light with yellows, blues, greens and even a bit of purple. In spite of the name of this blog, I know very little about the actual manufacture of tweed. Sure, I've watched with great interest and fascination videos showing tweed manufacture on the internet, and increased my knowledge a bit, but I still have no hands on experience making it, which is probably what it takes to move beyond the rote memorization of tweed names to a level of genuine understanding. If I was able to make the yarns, set up the warp and the weft of the loom, and even have a hand at weaving, then I might understand a bit more about why this jacket behaves like it does in the light. Though I think that such understanding probably takes years of diligent labor, not merely a single hands on sort of experience. Such tacit knowledge comes solely from an experience of active participation that leads to, not only mastery of a task, but also to a level of circumspection that allows one to understand the process of a given task and its outcome. The persons that are involved in making the yarns and weaving them have both a knowledge and an understanding of tweed that I will never have, and I simply can't learn that sort of thing from a book.
However, like many things, the more time I spend with doing something or observing something, the more I find I come to know and understand. I think tweed is a bit like this. The more of it that I have the opportunity to see, handle, or even wear, leads to a deepened appreciation of it. The photo above was an attempt to capture some of the Argyle & Sutherland blues, greens and yellows in this jacket, and though it's a bit washed out, it's a different looking tweed than the dark grey looking images above. Tweed is more than simply color and patterns, it is a fabric that can subtly change shades of color as the light around it changes. For example, I have another brown Harris Tweed jacket that at times looks dark brown and at other times looks like a combination of what I have come to call 'granite seaweed'. I suppose that's the way it should be, as the colors of tweed often mirror the land and the sea nearby the areas where it is made. Like many people, however, I can't just pack up and move to the Outer Hebrides to learn about tweed. I can, however, continue to wear tweed and learn as much as I can about it. A tweed jacket is a potentially long-term relationship, and after years of wear, I might just come to know a little more that I did about the land and the sea that inspired it. Not exactly the same as "Be the ball, Billy," but through wearing tweed one does perhaps, in the very smallest of ways at least, participate in the land and the sea that inspired its creation. So with these random thoughts on my mind, I remind myself that there is no better time of the year to increase my understanding of tweed - and I think I have just the madder tie to go with that granite seaweed Harris Tweed jacket.
Image may be NSFW.
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Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.![]()
Clik here to view.