On Wool With Knitwear Designer Ilana Blumberg

“I really can’t sew,” says knitwear designer – and woolsmith – Ilana Blumberg, humbly, as she shows me a set of what to me look like perfectly stitched, pleated woollen skirts from her recent collection ‘Never Be Cold’. “Did you use toile to practice?” I ask. “Honestly, no. It’s just origami, you’ve got to consider length, waist, width and the rest is just folding,” she justifies, downplaying the skills she’s acquired en route. “And if it’s shit? Well, it’s shit.”

Ilana’s woollen oeuvre is far from. Even Harry Styles would agree (for reference, see him donning his custom intarsia house-motif sweater in the promotional imagery for his album Harry’s House). Snood jumpers with elongated everythings; sturdy skirts that graze the ankle with plenty of wiggle room; knee-length knitted over-robes; and berets with thick straps that tie up under the chin, fathomed from the simplistic certitude that a beret alone makes cold ears ensue. Her garments are pragmatic… and semiotic of her persistent desire to be warm, quite conveniently modelled in real-time by the series of thick knits she wears.

We sit on a set of fold up chairs on the ground floor of her mezzanine studio on Hackney Road, London. Cones of coloured yarns are stacked neatly on shelves where a curated selection of books about wool sit adjacent. Next to that stands her manual knitting machine – where the magic happens, and closeby is an empty space, saved for the soon-to-arrive robot machine which marks the finale of her scale-up.

Ilana never studied fashion design. She studied architecture and before that engineering, a course she never finished but recalls thoroughly enjoying the maths. “There are similarities between architecture and design,” she shares, and knitting, a game of numbers and calculations, appealed to the mathematician within.

She introduces me to her knitted snood top. “Everything is extra long so it ruffles up making it really warm,” she says, demonstrating the ruching system permitted by the elongated neck, sleeves and body. “Although, I worry people might not realise that and accidentally wear it as a dress. Which I really don’t want.” She pauses, then laughs: “It’d be a really weird dress.”

“How would you describe my designs?” Ilana asks me. I spitball, hesitantly: “Mid 19th century; pre-technological revolution; slightly proletarian; with a contemporary twist?” A man on a penny-farthing bicycle passes; a glitch in the simulation. “I love it!” She laughs.

“It’s difficult to encapsulate. It’s meant to be funny, yet it’s also actually extremely serious.” She’s conscious of the paradox, but I understand what she means. Satirical, humorous yet fundamentally utilitarian and meaningful. “I want to say: ‘Look at this ridiculous thing… but I’m deadly serious. It’s not even a joke, it’s actually a really good thing’.” Her robe exemplifies this perfectly. I’m sold.

Ilana seeks inspiration from themes of essentialism, origin and tradition. “I guess that’s probably why you say mid 19th century as in some way such themes return to a time when, yes, fashioning oneself was important but it was also about survival.” And, clothes, whilst being critical utensils in semaphoring messages of identity, better explained by our dear cultural theorist and historian Anne Hollander, they also serve a purpose, which, as per the title of Ilana’s most recent collection, is to avoid ever being cold. “And, if I feel like what I’m making is really useful then I don’t have to feel bad about making it.”

Ilana only works with wool, which is, in essence, the reason we’ve met today.

Wool is something of a miracle fabric; it’s high performance and totally technical. When used with quality in mind, it resists deterioration, it’s durable, it’s easy to maintain as its self cleaning properties allow for less frequent, low temperature washing. Wool reacts to changes in the body’s temperature meaning it keeps you cool in summer and warm in winter. It’s soft; it’s coarse. Hell, it’s even flame resistant. The supply chain from fleece to functional yarn is short and can be local. Not to mention, the process which transforms the yarn into a product (… knitting) is generally an additive manufacturing process as opposed to a subtractive process so waste is at a minimum. And, when the time comes, it can be biodegraded. Collectively, the above make wool a far better alternative to petrochemical-based materials.

“Wool is an amazing yarn to work with,” says Ilana, “All of its natural oils mean it’s always changing. You can just get so much out of it.”

What she looks out for when sourcing her yarns is a wide range of colours, a fair price and a quantity that will allow for consistency when making. And, quality is key. “I want wool that doesn’t pill,” she says, again, pointing to the sleeves on her grey robe that are allegedly pilling (or bobbling in layman’s terms). Though, I really can’t see any bobbles.

Wool isn’t always used to the best of its ability and Ilana has her qualms. “Nowadays, a lot of knitwear is too lightweight. It seems if a brand can make it 100 grams lighter to save money, they will. They’re not prioritising the quality,” she says. And, when quality isn’t a priority, longevity is jeopardised. “If it doesn’t do what you want it to do, it’s not fit for purpose. And, if it’s not fit for purpose, it’s not going to go the distance.”

“I wanted to make the perfect jumper,” she says, pointing to the thick red knit that lines her over-robe. Such a thing is hard to come by. She reels off her ideals: “Comfortable, extremely sturdy, ages well, really warm, practical.” She breathes, then adds: “And, is easy enough to make that it’s affordable. But not so affordable that it’s compromised, it feels luxurious, and, you know, I also have to make a living from it.”

We liaise on the concept of luxury, coming to the conclusion that luxury fashion does not sit on a spectrum with fast fashion as it can still be both fast and damaging alike any fast label, take Shein for example.

“Sustainability used to be really important to me,” she admits, “then I think I became disillusioned and now I view it as somewhat unrealistic. Logistically it was difficult, too.” She continues: “Using second-hand yarns made reproducing a garment near impossible as each yarn would behave differently and the entire garment would have to be recalculated. It’s not like working with fabrics where you can just cut it to the same shape, everything would have to be one of a kind and I’d have to sell it for a lot more money.”

“I feel like doing better by the planet is incredibly important but at the same time, I feel I’ve slightly stepped back from the burdensome feeling that it’s my responsibility,” she says, pessimistically.

It’s a seemingly bureaucratic and totally intricate affair which, without extensive research and question, makes itself elusive to gauge. “Honestly, I don’t understand what half of the certifications and qualifications actually mean. I would like to understand but that requires time that I don’t have.” That’s the reality of it. Infrastructure is set up in a way that makes it hard to understand and easy to gloss over. It takes near interrogation to get to the bottom of these things, leaving plenty of room for greenwashing hidden behind the power of a certification which actually might mean very little.

“For example, recycled yarns are something I like to use, and more and more recycled yarns are becoming available which is exciting. But, I had a conversation with one of the representatives at Pitti Immagine Filati, the yarn show in Florence, and they told me that recycled yarns are actually just collected bits of the floor and put them into another machine rather than back in with the virgin wool. Speaking to the person at the fair was really amazing as even though we learned that the certification didn’t really mean anything, at least we are no longer fooled by it.”

Asking questions is a good place to start. “I’d advise to talk to agents, reps and ask lots of questions. I think learning to understand the certifications would be a good place to start for better understanding and measuring factors related to sustainability and animal welfare.”

“I feel lucky to be doing knit because you build the textile to the shape you need it to be. It’s an additive process which means waste is at a minimum.” As opposed to subtractive manufacturing. “That’s not to say that there is no waste,” she clarifies.

“What about dyes?” I ask. She’s earnest. “Currently, honestly, I know very little, and with time, as I grow, it’s something I’d really like to know more about.”

Ilana is already working greener than many; the nature of knitting with wool is inherently more sustainable than other avenues of fashion manufacturing. She agrees but is reluctant to make any claims to being a sustainable brand. “I would never go and shout about it because I don’t have the grounds to do that, and sometimes quiet responsible action speaks louder. At the end of the day, as designers, it is our responsibility to try.”

“That being said, as a single person running a brand, I have to pick my battles. At the moment, it’s about producing high quality pieces that will last for a long time. This to me is sustainable.” It is. A model like this will help alleviate throwaway culture. “I’m really rooting for the creation of sustainable products that I can use, but in the meantime I’m not going to claim to be fully sustainable.”

Ilana also works as a consultant, liaising with brands that are exploring knit. She candidly shares her dilemma. “When I’m consulting, I wonder how much of it is my responsibility in terms of guidance regarding the materials a brand might choose. I did a project recently and I showed them two options: a 100% wool option and a blend with polyester. The brand wanted to use better materials, but they also wanted to achieve a certain effect which could only be achieved by using a blend. They went for the blend.”

Frustrated by reality yet relieved by admission, she adjusts her legs which are now dangling over the back of the chair. She reaffirms: “This is what I mean by stepping back from seeing it as my responsibility. There is an entire industry, factories and everything, that make yarns, materials, garments and more. Obviously one needs to buy the right materials responsibly, but I can’t take on the responsibility of all these components.” This is the price one has to pay when starting out, and many industries, in particular fashion, are rife with compromise, meaning integrity is lost in the name of making ends meet.

Much of the above works on a demand basis. That’s not to say it’s made to order, like Ilana’s business model, but as long as demand for a product exists, so will the product.

Ilana is hopeful that if enough people sourcing fabrics are opting in for the better version – the recycled yarns, the organic cottons, the deadstock or second-hand fabrics, the biomaterials – then the right message is sent, and with time, production will shift to be more indicative of this. “The pressure is on and many brands and corporations are having to prove themselves.” It’s just ensuring that pressure extends further than self validation or gratification to genuine, meaningful action. “I sound like I’m trying to relinquish myself of the responsibility. I don’t really feel like that. I feel I should be doing more.”

She doesn’t take enough credit for what she is doing: small scale, made to order, additive manufacturing from natural biodegradable fibres that don’t distribute microplastics and can be washed at low temperatures with quality and longevity in mind using less energy and less water than polyester or cotton alternatives. That was a mouthful. As concerns for detrimental plastic and synthetic materials grow, wool provides an alternative to reduce the impact. Experts from Leeds University have highlighted wool for its unique properties in storing atmospheric carbon, aiding in preventing stored carbon from contributing to greenhouse gas emissions.

Hours have passed and I think I ought to let Ilana get on with her tax return. Deadlines loom. “What’s this?” I ask, spying what looks to be a tulle wedding dress tucked away in a corner of her studio on my way out. “It’s a wedding dress.” Ilana’s not getting married, she’s celebrating her thirtieth birthday. “When I was young I always thought I’d be married by thirty. Now I am thirty, I realise I’m still so young. Anyway, the theme was a white wedding, and this is the dress I made to wear.” So, she can sew!