In what I can only describe as fickle (AF. Excuse my French) and fundamentally confusing times that is managing to spur a notoriously apathetic generation and an ENTIRE GENDER to be hot and bothered, my visit to Barrie Knitwear in Hawick, Scotland comes as a balm.
There is an air of enduring timelessness to Barrie, suppliers of Chanel knitwear: a distinct lack of fuss or noise, save for the gentle whirring of machines and crisp snip-snaps from thread cutters sprinkled across a well-lit assembly hall. The main objective: the craft. It’s a no-brainer. It’s evident in the sculptural jumper worn by my guide (whom I end up awkwardly hugging/petting in the end, because CASHMEEEERE), in the knitted brows (see what I did there) of the men and women mounting the rib panel stitch-by-stitch, and the multiple quality control stations that punctuate the entire process.

It has been quite a journey to reach this point, my guide tells me, however. In 2012, Barrie’s holding company had hit a financial bind and was forced into administration, which is when Chanel’s subsidiary company Paraffection (meaning “for love”) had given a hand in the name of savoir-faire. This poignant purchase has since aided the mill in securing scores of jobs, serving the Hawick community, and resuming some 140-year heritage and expertise. In a sense, arguably it’d been a natural acquisition, given that Chanel had been working with Barrie for thirty years’ prior on producing twin-sets and the perennial two-tone cardigans that is still a staple of the brand. No stitch was to be dropped (aren’t I just full of puns today) in Barrie’s cause for highly finessed knitwear production.

A stitch-by-stitch pattern is constructed based on sketches from Paris.

While final design input is made by Chanel, Barrie’s technical know-how is trusted in composing the best creation method.

All Chanel knitwear is made in the ‘fully fashioned method’, which results in neater seams.

Above: a steady hand boldy shears through a cardigan in its final stages.

Hop, skip and a world away

As we start to make somewhat of a dent in this brand new year (mine still in its original packaging – MINT! – as 2016 continues to die hard with a stubborn cold and badly time-manged deadlines I’d inherited from pre-holiday frenzy), I realise that I had unknowingly scratched off a bucket list item in the infamous year that will probably go down in history as this one word: Asshole. The funny part of this is though, I had no idea Scotland (and a nine-hour car drive) was even on my bucket list.

Now, this is in no way a passive dig at our Northerly neighbours or the tourism board’s general gallant efforts. If it helps to explain things, according to many of my well-informed Londoners (and non-Londoners alike), one of the best seafood joint in town is mere 3 minute around the corner from my flat. Eleven years on, I am yet to set foot in this establishment.

Some have cried that it’s basically a crime, especially should you love oysters (+ wine and soda bread) as passionately I do. “LATER!” is the battle cry. Now apply the same dawdle-logic to Scotland, and voila – the allegory works, right down to the oyster detail*.

Alas, I had an appointment to keep, Tuesday 29th, 11:30AM at the factory doorsteps of Chanel group’s renowned knitwear suppliers: Barrie. On Monday 28th, exactly 24hours prior, we loaded a car with three strapping men (more on this later) and a suitcase-load of Chanel/Barrie samples. We knew not what the road held in store for us – only snacks and wholehearted road-trip joshing – but once we crossed that border in Gretna Green, every hour it scratched at the new-fangled bucket-list item: Scotland.

*After having sampled fresh-picked rock oysters off Fort William after this very shoot, it transpires that indeed it was a crime to have lived without said Scottish jewel.

full look CHANEL AW 2016 knitwear produced at BARRIE

There is no better way to interpret Karl’s ‘Front Row Only’ Chanel AW16 collection at the helm of what is possibly Great Britain’s best scenery, silently but majestically unfolding atop our very windshield, and Barrie’s cream-cashmere in its own home ground. The setting is somewhat reminiscent of the immaculately cow-mowed rolling hills of Austria, save for the mob of sheep and mossy rocks, underneath one highly expressive heavens. FREEDOM! It seemed to cry (a la a certain M.Gibson), as we ambled about the glen (valley) on the look for backdrops. We were spoilt for choice. In a sense, within the medley of sepia, fir green and cloud greys, broken up only by a tuft of spruce forest with a wisp of fog in its hair, the landscape was that of nature’s best couture salon.

More on Barrie soon, I promise.

This is something I noticed only on my second jaunt to the Indian Ocean, but the Maldives isn’t your usual fly-and-flop destination. It’s an archipelago of paradise islands that is as close to blank canvas as you can get on a holiday. There is no silver screen reference starring a Hepburn sister, or stripy/nautical uniform a la French Riviera, and certainly no techno beats reverberating out of the clubhouse, courtesy of DJ Ibiza. There are no rules, or things ‘you must/mustn’t do’ (i.e Do not order a Mai Tai in Saint Tropez). In fact, you may have troubles packing for your first time. All that’s provided is nature in its incorrupt, innocent entirety, and wholehearted Maldivian hospitality. Add to that: Sun (unabridged), celestial skies, immaculate coral beaches and at times, warm rain. The Conrad Maldives understands this well, which is one of the many reasons for my return. The two private islands – joined by a footbridge overlooking the occasional manta ray – is full of nooks and crannies. This lends an illusion of being alone on an island, with a fully-equipped gym, water sports centre and a sunrise yoga session, or an excellent in-villa dining menu and a comprehensive DVD library, if you wish. It’s a DIY holiday – any agenda fits.

The dress code? Come as you are. White does swell, but any colour you find in the Maldivian sunset is a safe bet. No heels, unless it’s a ‘housewarming’ item, like your favourite candle from home.

Eighteen. A number not commonly spotted in the usual roster of suspects, nor accompanied by some far-fetched superstition that leads 4’s to be scratched off elevators and 13’s to haunt perfectly innocent Fridays; it is perfectly harmless, almost mundane. Little do we realise that 18 is, in fact, a glorious number. A not round but so-very-round figure that bottles in just enough experience, evolution and ‘manhood’ for a product to be deemed ready for the world.

Be it in a gawky, all-arms-and-legs teenager or a dusty bottle of Bordeaux from your parents wedding, 18 of anything is a painstaking process of trial & error, handicraft and refinement. Even if Joe’s braces aren’t coming off until next Springtime. Chanel is a master of said 18, hours of which it takes (depending on material) for one handbag to be produced. Each is subject to meticulous care, from sketch to packaging – every step sanctioned by quality control – after which it is then ready to begin its story. Now multiply this by decades of finesse and perfection.

The aged calfskin is quilted by needlework according to a lozenge “diamond” pattern.

A template is placed onto the leather and cuts the different components, which are then individually lined with thin foam.

The emblematic double C is sewn onto the leather, appearing underneath the flap inside the bag.

The two bags are placed one within the other to create a single bag and then assembled; this is the “bag in the bag” technique.

Eyelets are inserted on the bag for a chain made of flat links in metal known as the “jewellery chain”. A rectangular turn-lock clasp, called the “Mademoiselle lock”, is positioned.

The bag is complete and the finishing touches are checked before it is packed and sent to the CHANEL boutiques.