Linen Workwear (dare we call it Denim?)

During one of our early calls about the collaboration between Fantasy Fibre Mill and the Let’s Grow Flax project, I remember really connecting with Brigitte over the possibility of creating linen workwear. In this context, by workwear we don’t mean the technical kind that might be worn by firefighters or construction workers, or uniforms (for schools or hotels or aviation). We mean the kind that is in fact casual everyday wear, as popularised by brands like Carhartt and Dickies. The clothes are (should be) hardwearing, with simple functional cuts, and yet just enough flair to make you feel ready for the day. Historically, this kind of clothing has its origins in the garments worn by “labourers” - whether that be on a farm, in a mine, or in a factory. These garments were overwhelmingly made from a fabric called denim, which is why workwear and denim have become almost synonymous. However, (and without wanting to get into sticky discussions about what is and isn’t denim), “blue collar” (bleu de travail) chore jackets are a classic example of workwear that isn’t denim.


In the world as it is today (2024), workwear is made from cotton (or poly-cotton) and so is denim. This is because cotton dominates the natural fibre market, and it is what the consumer expects. However, this world domination of cotton is only fairly recent - look back 250 years (pre-industrial revolution), and most clothing worn in the UK would have been made from wool, linen or hemp (or even nettles). In fact, linen, hemp and nettles, being long bast fibres, make much more hardwearing fabric than cotton, and for this reason are actually much better suited to making workwear than cotton. Brigitte and I were particularly excited about combining the old and the new - could we make a modern looking garment using a traditional linen cloth? Because of the widespread appeal of denim and jeans, we decided to make a pair of jeans as we felt this would be easily recognisable to a broad audience.

Design

Earlier in the year, I had taken a two-day course with world denim expert Mohsin Sajid at the London College of Fashion. Over the course of the weekend we made a pair of 5-pocket (2 front, 2 back and the coin pocket) selvedge jeans, with a single piece button-fly front. I felt particularly well equipped to take on the challenge of transforming Brigitte’s stunning linen cloth into a finished garment.

Mohsin teaching the denim course

 

Jeans Nick made

Brigitte selected a genderless Selvedge jeans pattern. We discussed making various modifications to make the jeans more size-inclusive, like adding a buckle cinch at the back. In the end, we settled for a more modest two button approach at the front, which allows the wearer to loosen or tighten the fit by a couple of centimeters. Driven by the requirement that the jeans contain only bio-degradable material, we replaced the zip fly by a button-fly. All the buttons were made on commission by a local wood turner. This also required us to find an alternative to metal rivets - a staple on denim since the late 19th century. In one of Mohsin’s online history of denim videos he mentions certain embroidery techniques that were used instead of rivets, as a form of decorative reinforcement. I did some experiments but ultimately decided to simply reinforce the corner pockets (where the rivets would be) with some careful handstitching over existing seams. All topstitching was done using a yellow naturally dyed (onion skin), bio-degradable tencel thread, all other stitching was done using natural or black tencel thread.

Construction

When it came to sewing the jeans together, I had two main concerns: would we have enough fabric and how would the fabric behave. I had never sewn with a handwoven fabric before, and I was curious whether the looser weave and thickness would cause issues. The fabric was not woven wide enough for us to lay the two back pieces side by side. To work around this problem, I split off a bit of the rise into a separated piece and then attached this back on later. This seam was nearly invisible, and in any case fell in the crutch area which, in technical sewing terms is “where the sun doesn’t shine”. As for the fabric, it handled amazingly well. It was easy to cut, pressed well and my machine (an old Brother industrial) had no issues (I did use a 100 thickness needle).

The Brother industrial machine

For the seams, I ultimately made the (potentially controversial) decision to use the overlocker. While felled seams are always my preferred option, in this case they were not suitable. Felled seams require slightly more fabric, especially in this case as the loose weave meant you could not fold over small allowances. The layplan was extremely tight, and I just did not have enough fabric for this. Also, because of the loose weave, the fabric did want to fray quickly, and binding everything neatly with the overlocker made things more workable. Finally, there was something quite appropriate about applying a modern garment making technique (the overlocker) to a more traditional fabric. This approach was very much in the spirit of the project.


For the waistband, Brigitte and I also decided to take a slightly alternative approach. Normally a jeans waistband would be constructed by folding a rectangular piece of fabric in half, and sewing it on in a two-step process. In our case, since Brigitte was going to handweave the fabric, we decided she could handweave the waistband in a single piece that we could sew on in one go. In the end, we didn’t get the weight of the waistband right the first time round, so had to reinforce it with a second band. However, I really enjoyed this approach, which is zero-waste and takes full advantage of the opportunities of working directly with a handweaver.

Did we make denim jeans?

Although I say this myself, I was really chuffed with how the jeans turned out. They fit well and the fabric really worked well for the garment. If added to my wardrobe, they would quickly become one of my go-to pieces. The overall aesthetic of the garment was quite surprising however, quite unlike anything you could buy in a store. As my work with linen progresses, this is a realization that gets stronger and stronger - the fashion industry has developed to make certain kinds of cloth, and certain types of garments. These kinds and types are actually quite heavily constrained by the infrastructure and pressures of mass-production. As we open up new (or actually rediscover) ways of working with natural fibres like linen, we are going to access new aesthetics.

This is tremendously exciting, and I can’t wait to make more linen workwear.