Most of the time with stories in this series, we’ve celebrated how quality clothing becomes more beautiful with age – unlike the cheap product we see everywhere around us. It always feels like a story worth telling, one few adverts shout about.
Today’s example is slightly different. Unlike the patina on a pair of good leather shoes, or the fading on a piece of vintage outerwear, this cardigan has hardly aged at all. It’s 16 years old, but doesn’t look it.
The type of ageing we’re celebrating today is how quality knitwear can last many years if cared for properly: through pilling and washing and moths and repairs, this cashmere shawl has stood the test of the time.
The cardigan was a very kind gift from Michael Drake (above), back in 2009. I was still a full-time journalist, writing the blog in my spare time, and one lunch break I went over to the Drake’s tie factory to interview Michael.
The factory was a big, open-plan affair back then – this predates Haberdasher Street. The staff were on a long platform raised above the production floor, and people like Michael Hill (now, of course, in charge) and Ann Ryley (who went to Begg & Co) had desks alongside Michael’s own area.
We talked about many things, including how he preferred the style of the French over the Italians, and the particular delights of a 50oz silk tie. The whole place felt like the epicentre of the craft and understated elegance I aspired to.
A few days later Michael sent me this cardigan, and it was a most unexpected and generous gift. We saw each other occasionally over the next few years, often at his favourite, the Chelsea Arts Club.
Perhaps it was because the cardigan was a gift, and so more personal, or because it was connected to that early, formative menswear experience, but this piece has always been precious to me. I’ve looked after it fairly well as a result.
I remember I washed it a few months in, with much trepidation. I soaked it gently in lukewarm water in the bath, with a little wool detergent. I then wrung it out gently in a towel, as I had heard someone recommend. And finally I dried it flat, slowly, on the rack that sits above our bath.
It took an age to dry. It was probably only a couple of days, but because the rest of the family’s washing had to replace it more than once, and the cardigan then take its place again, it felt particularly drawn-out.
As with so much however, the more time I put into it the more precious the cardigan felt. Time is precious.
Darning the thing wasn’t quite so successful. I was horrified – no actually, I was angry – when I found my first moth hole. Mostly angry at myself for not looking after it better.
I found some similarly coloured grey wool, and I darned the hole fairly loosely. It was rough and stood out a bit, but it secured the hole.
The next time I found damage, it was a lot worse. The whole cuff had a cut in it about an inch long, where the bastards had been chomping away all summer. Again, I confess I didn’t really do the right thing but simply lived with it for a while. My moth regime improved (tips here) but I didn’t repair the cardigan.
Finally, the following year, I decided it was worth paying to repair it properly. So I sent it to Cashmere Circle, asking them to wash it, de-pill and repair the holes – the full revive service. The estimated cost was £87.
Unfortunately, when they received the cardigan, they identified a total of 10 holes on various parts of it. The extra cost was £88, brining the total to £175.
The holes were not possible to hide entirely. Above you can see the echoes of them where the yarn looks the same but the knit of the cardigan changes. They’re scars, but ones I value for the story they suggest.
It’s always a wrench when you have to spend good money on something you already own (like servicing a watch) but in the long run it’s usually worth it.
The knit was as good as new, and I’ve continued to wear it in the same way ever since. In fact I’m wearing it right now, as I write this in the airport, preparing to fly to Pitti. I’m wearing it with a knitted T-shirt and cords, though it’s more often partnered with a T-shirt and jeans, as pictured.
I’ve continued to wash the cardigan but rarely – once a year at the most – and after depilling it once or twice in the first year (tips here) it hasn’t needed that since. I think the knit is slightly softer than it was at the beginning, but it’s really quite hard to remember.
To me, it feels just like the same thing from 2009, except with layers of experience and meaning on top of it – and of course better value the longer I have it.
Those old interviews with Michael Drake are worth revisiting by the way. There is one from April 2010 that expounds his opinions on dressing in general, saying things such as: “It’s not a question of having the world’s largest wardrobe, and certainly not an elaborate one. It’s a matter of the right clothes, that illustrate the inspiration and taste of the man wearing them.” Hard to argue with that.
There’s a brief one with words from Bruce Boyer, and finally a good piece I did a couple of years later which has lines such as: “The French like that old English, school look. The Italians, apart from Naples of course, are much more fitted, more self-conscious and deliberately sharper.”
All good stuff, and nice to have it still available for reference.
The cardigan is an old model, and a different fit from the current Drake’s cardigans. It also originally had leather football buttons; I replaced them after a few years.
The other clothes shown are a white PS Tapered T-shirt, old Levi’s Vintage Clothing jeans, Alden LHS snuff-suede loafers and a Frank Clegg tote.
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