Tweed’s youthful makeover resurrects symbol of Scottish heritage
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Harris Tweed stoles displayed at the Isle of Harris Tweed shop in Tarbert, Isle of Harris, in the Outer Hebrides, northern Scotland in April.
PHOTO: AFP
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Isle of Scalpay, United Kingdom – “When you see tweed on the runway, you don’t expect it to come from here,” jokes former banker Alexander MacLeod as he sets up his loom in a converted barn on the shores of a Scottish loch.
Mr MacLeod, 38, became a weaver two years ago, joining residents on the islands of Lewis and Harris, off Scotland’s north-west coast, in helping to rejuvenate the tweed industry after a significant period of decline.
“It’s a good thing to keep the tradition going,” he says.
Tweed is a symbol of Scottish heritage and has “always been part of the culture” on the Outer Hebrides, adds Mr MacLeod, who hails from the island of Scalpay, which is connected to Harris by a bridge. It is now “an attractive sector to be in”, he says.
Tweed weaver Alexander MacLeod on his loom in his atelier at his home on the Isle of Scalpay in the Outer Hebrides, northern Scotland.
PHOTO: AFP
He left the Hebrides for seven years to work in banking, but the pull of his roots proved too strong.
Now, during the day, Mr MacLeod works for a small local cosmetics company. In the evening, he puts on a podcast, usually about espionage, and patiently begins to weave. Only the steady hum of his machine disturbs the calm of the old stone barn.
Harris tweed, traditionally made from 100 per cent wool, is the only fabric protected by a 1993 Act of Parliament.
It must be “handwoven by the islanders at their homes in the Outer Hebrides, finished in the Outer Hebrides, and made from pure virgin wool dyed and spun in the Outer Hebrides”.
Blackface sheep and lambs, whose wool is used in Harris Tweed production, at the Isle of Harris in the Outer Hebrides. Harris Tweed, traditionally made from 100 per cent wool, is the only fabric protected by a 1993 Act of Parliament.
PHOTO: AFP
The weaver speaks of his “satisfaction” once the tweed is finished.
The fabric, once associated with the British aristocracy, then goes to the spinning mill for a quality control check, where the slightest flaw is flagged. Finally, it receives the precious “Harris Tweed” stamp – a globe topped with a cross – certifying the fabric’s provenance and authenticity, issued by the Harris Tweed Authority (HTA).
The tweed then leaves the island to be purchased by discerning companies abroad, including luxury brands such as Christian Dior, Chanel and Gucci.
Several sneaker brands such as Nike, New Balance and Converse have also used it for limited-edition products.
A weaving loom at work at the atelier of weaver Alexander MacLeod.
PHOTO: AFP
The traditional staples are jackets, caps and bags, but the fabric can also be used for furniture.
There are 140 weavers, according to the HTA, which launched a recruitment campaign in 2023 and offered workshops to learn the trade following a wave of retirements.
This know-how, often passed down from generation to generation, is now being nurtured by a different profile of weaver.
Harris Tweed Authority’s operations director Kelly MacDonald behind a weaving loom at her office in Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, northern Scotland.
PHOTO: AFP
“It’s nice to see younger people coming in,” says Ms Kelly MacDonald, director of operations at the HTA. “When I joined the industry 22 years ago, there was a severe period of decline. I was wondering, ‘Is there going to be an industry any more?’”
But the industry is now enjoying a resurgence and significant growth, with more than 580,000m of tweed produced in 2024.
“We are always looking at new markets,” she says, and tweed is now exported to South Korea, Japan, Germany and France, among other countries.
It is no longer dependent on the American market, as it once was, and should be largely shielded from the tariffs imposed by United States President Donald Trump.
A staff member at Carloway Mill processing and preparing the wool for the weaving of Harris Tweed in Carloway on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, northern Scotland.
PHOTO: AFP
Tweed has “modernised”, says Mr Cameron MacArthur, who works at Carloway Mill, one of the three spinning mills in the west of the Isle of Lewis. He is only 29, but has already worked there for 12 years.
The mill, with its large machines, looks as if it has not changed for decades. But Mr MacArthur has seen it evolve to embrace a younger workforce and newer fabrics, meaning it is no longer just the ultra-classic Prince of Wales chequered pattern or dark colours that are on offer.
Harris Tweed stoles displayed at the Isle of Harris Tweed shop in Tarbert, Isle of Harris, in the Outer Hebrides, northern Scotland. The fabric has modernised, and no longer features just the ultra-classic Prince of Wales chequered pattern or dark colours.
PHOTO: AFP
Coloured wool used for Harris Tweed at Carloway Mill.
PHOTO: AFP
“Nowadays, we’re allowed to make up our own colours... and we’re just doing different things with it, modernising it, making it brighter,” he says, showing off rolls of turquoise blue and fuchsia pink.
“We’re so busy... it never used to be like that,” he says, adding that he is “proud” to be working with the local product.
The “Harris Tweed” stamp – a globe topped with a cross – that certifies the fabric’s provenance and authenticity, issued by the Harris Tweed Authority.
PHOTO: AFP
Ms MacDonald says tweed is an antidote to environment-unfriendly “fast fashion”.
“How nice to own a product where you can actually look on a map to a tiny island and say, ‘That’s where my jacket was made.’ That’s so rare now, and I think people really engaged with that.
“Every stage of the production has to happen here, but from start to finish, it is a really long process. We are the epitome of slow fashion.” AFP
