On four collections, finding my own style, and learning that less is more

i. Everything, all at once

Before Cotswold Knit, I spent years designing for big companies. Producing lots of ideas was the job, and I loved it. So when I started designing my first collection in 2020, I did exactly the same, lots of yarns, lots of styles.

At the design houses I could take on a client's style and make work that looked like theirs. When the question became what my own collection should be about, I didn't have an answer. I liked an array of things, almost like every design could have been its own collection.

Whether it's a stand at an event, a shelf in a shop or a page online, you only ever have so much space. Fill it with too many ideas and it becomes overwhelming. early on, I was trying to answer everybody's accessory needs in one collection, on a tiny budget, and spreading myself far too thin.

What I learned, quite quickly, was that less is more. One style, one clear look, so people understand straight away what you're offering. I think I knew that already, but it didn't really sink in until I'd made the mistake myself.

After those first two collections I started to use a kind of funnel. I watched what sold well and what people came back for, and I focused on what Cotswold Knit really does best. We're on our fourth collection now, and I feel far more focused. Having that direction gives you a real drive...some days I just can't put it down.

The first two collections were a sticky start, but they were a crucial part of the journey.

Without casting the net out really wide, how could I bring it all back in to exactly what worked?

The first collection gave me a challenge...selling in person; that came as a shock! I had never sold anything in my life. My part-time jobs had been behind a bar or washing pots in kitchens, never in a shop. I hadn't appreciated that selling ( especially in person) is a real skill.

At my first few shows I stood behind my stand looking out into the abyss. Stiff, worried and probably not seeming very approachable... not what I wanted to be radiating!

Then, at one event, I was placed next to a woman selling food. She was pulling people in from right across the room. She taught me everything without teaching me anything. Watching her was like a light switching on, I'd seen somebody do it, so I knew I could too.

I've since learned that design is a smaller percentage of what I do than you would imagine. The rest is talking to customers, keeping that connection going, and showing up whether I feel like it or not. It's an emotional thing, because it's my business and I care about it.

She taught me everything without teaching me anything.

After a slow show, I used to think it all came down to price. Were my prices too high? Should I lower them, because people can find things cheaper on the high street?

I've learned that the price is the price. If I sell too cheaply, I don't have a business. I don't mind putting in the hours, but working out afterwards that I haven't charged enough is just completely wrong.

My prices aren't for everybody, and that's OK. Customers sometimes tell me they've been saving up, or they've used some birthday money. That's how I shop now too. If there's something I really want, I wait, I put the money aside and I don't buy something else in the meantime. When I finally buy it, I enjoy it and I look after it. Looking forward to it is part of the pleasure.

Fast fashion gives you an immediate buzz that fades almost as soon as the parcel arrives. It never looks quite the way it did in the photograph. My pieces aren't high street prices, and they never will be. I don't buy in volume, I don't mass produce and I don't use cheap materials. A Cotswold Knit piece is a considered purchase.

Looking forward to it is part of the pleasure.

My relationship with colour has grown up alongside me. I still love bright colour, lots of it, and I love wearing it. But I've learned it needs space to rest. Not everybody wants shouty colour, so there are calmer, softer colourways now, sitting alongside the vibrant ones.

I feel more at ease as a designer now. You don't need a huge collection, and not everybody has to like what you make. When you design something yourself, that can feel very personal. But you're not designing for everybody, and it's OK for a piece not to be right for everyone.

The textiles have always been at the heart of it. It all starts with the fabric: the pattern, how it feels, how it looks. From there I find my way to the product, usually by cutting up samples and swatches and wearing what I make around the house.

The garden is always there too. It's built into me. My grandmother's garden keeps coming back, collection after collection. 

I still only make what I believe in. On the high street you sometimes design things you'd never wear yourself. If I don't believe in a piece, I can't put it on my website.

When I started, I designed for myself. I've since discovered that many of my customers are my mother's age and beyond, in their seventies and eighties. That was a lovely surprise, and knowing it helps the decision process on what to make next. The twisted snoods are a piece that will always be here to stay, the feedback is always so great and comes from all generations of customer. People wear them with pride and then buy them for friends as gifts and then come back again for a second colourway.

My dad was a packaging designer, and I've always loved beautiful packaging. It's what I want to work on next, for gifting especially. Cotswold Knit began as gifts for friends and family, so it feels right to come back to that.

When something arrives beautifully wrapped, it raises the expectation, and opening it becomes part of the experience. Good packaging protects what's inside and does justice to the work that went into it. It's also a chance to tell the story: where a piece came from, the heritage behind it, the idea that started it.

If I could tell the woman who knitted those very first scarves one thing, it would be this.

My gosh, it's going to be hard work1