From Factory to Fashion

Growing up, as a Irish girl, in a small city called Newry, I never quite connected with the girls or boys that enjoyed playing with dolls, or kicking a ball. It was all too loud, too busy. I would usually be found sitting at my dad's factory workbench, while my brother was playing football outdoors.

The factory became my escape. A home to designers and makers, created by my parents, when they returned from Denmark in 1979. The smooth sounds of scissors gliding through leather as it was being cut, the rhythmic vibrations of sewing machines at work, and the clanking of tools against surfaces. This was the kind of noise that I felt at ease with.

Soon I became the factory's little helper. I was eager to notch pattern pieces, carry items between the work benches, be involved in any capacity I could think of - and in any way I was able to. It felt right, like I belonged. Yet as I grew older, the feeling of belonging, although as strong as ever, became the norm. No longer my escape. No longer a place just for me to feel at ease. I needed a hobby to go alongside my school work, and my afternoons and weekends at the factory. I thought photography may be it.

At first it was a disposable point and shoot film camera. I carried it everywhere, taking pictures of the inside of the factory, while everyone was hard at work, until the roll of film was full, and no more pictures could be taken. I loved it. I would go on walks, and travel, to take pictures of places I had discovered. I moved to London, at the age of 16, to pursue photography. I thought it was my true calling.

However, the more pictures I took, the less time I spent at the factory. I missed the sound of the humming machinery. I missed running my hands across the fabrics, which lay on tables ready to be cut. Maybe photography wasn't my passion after all? The summer of my 18th birthday, while sitting at my dad's work bench, as he drew designs for yet another chair, I considered my options. To go to university for photography? To work at the factory under my father, excell at the trade and business he had built? Or to find a new, exciting path that could involve everything I enjoyed? I knew I needed an environment that would become my new safe space. In London perhaps?

Although I was never concerned about the clothes I wore, the way I looked, fashion design became a big contender. Having my own tools, a work bench, the sound of machinery... Could this be it? And so it was. I returned to London to pursue my new found passion. I collected a tool at a time. First a pattern master, then a pair of scissors, then a notcher and awl. It felt like being home. My own, new home, with all of the memories of the factory at my disposal. I started to sketch. Then I learned to pattern cut. It was all coming together. It felt right. I felt right. Within no time I was designing, cutting, sewing, printing. dresses, coats, trousers- Whatever took my liking. Whatever inspired me. You name it, I made it! From prints inspired by furnishings from the 70's to silhouettes and colours I had seen in photography at galleries or in books. All of my previously developed passions were now merging into my new found fashion design world. It was perfect.

Now, with all these tools, my knowledge, my understanding, at my disposal, I can focus on design elements that are important to me. Things I adopted from my parents. Not only my personal work ethic, but working with others. Other creatives that excel in their field, building my own community of designers and makers - all with a similar aim. An aim to design, to create a world to feel at ease in.

Focusing on things that matter to me, like sustainability in design. I will never run out of new passions, new ideas within this new world I have built. New clothes and pieces to design. The longing for change, for rediscovery, or something new is no longer a negative, no longer a change of passion. It is my ongoing passion, within this world I have built for myself. A world that is akin to my memories at the factory.