“Counts the stitches.—It’s that number is in it [crying out.] Ah, Nora, isn’t it a bitter thing to think of him floating that way to the far north, and no one to keen him but the black hags that do be flying on the sea?” – J.M. Synge, Riders to the Sea
One imagines the Aran Islands to be perpetually shrouded in mist, where strange and dark dramas unfold. Whether this be through the imagination of J.M Synge, Martin McDonagh, or its tourists, the current of mystery pulls people towards its white shores – or sometimes the current is weak, and the consumer is drawn towards the nearest Carrolls to buy an Aran jumper.
Under the bright lights of these Irish gift shops, the wayward consumer will find the Aran jumper marketed as timeless and traditional. These words are echoes of the folklore woven into the history of the jumpers, which can only be accurately dated to the beginning of the 20th century. The stitches in the jumpers are said to differ between families and clans, helping to identify fishermen lost at sea, an idea perhaps propagated by the reading of the stitching on a stocking in Riders to the Sea. Further, the patterns are meant to be bearers of spiritual Celtic significance, harkening back to a mythic and intangible past.
Yet, the truth of the Aran jumper is simply that they were created by working-class women for fishermen to protect them from the elements as they worked, and to be sold when weaving was encouraged as a way to alleviate poverty. It is not a tradition but a relatively modern innovation in which the women wove unwashed wool so that its natural oils would render the jumpers water-resistant as well as warm.
The Aran jumper was brought to attention relatively quickly when Dr. Muriel Gahan commissioned the first one to be sold in The Country Store in Dublin during the 1930s. Within the next two decades, an Aran knitting pattern was published in Vogue, bringing the Aran style to the global stage, and soon celebrities such as Grace Kelly were seen wearing Aran jumpers.
This success helped to bolster the Irish wool and textile industry after suppression from colonial rule, and yet while the industry remains dedicated to producing locally knitted Aran jumpers, they have become almost kitschy in their appeal to tourists. Furthermore, their marketing perpetuates a false and often harmful conception of Ireland as a culture buried in the past, which can not envelop the present or accept the way it has changed.
What is interesting about the Aran jumper is its roots in working-class communities and its creative innovation as resistance to difficult conditions, both of which are aspects of modern Ireland that have become a much more culturally diverse place than has yet to be accepted. In discussing the revival of Irish fashion and Irish symbols in fashion from the claddagh to the harp, I fear the neglect of the Irish present. The amplification of Irish heritage is essential, but the most fertile ground for Irish fashion lies in the continuous past and diverse present, as well as in the resistance to fast fashion. Knitting, then, becomes a nexus for concerns surrounding craft, tradition, and modernity.
The craft has a long history, with the oldest knitted artefacts dating to the 11th century in Egypt, and making their way to Europe a couple of centuries later. Throughout its history, knitting has been marked as a form of resistance, from Revolutionary America to the Belgian Resistance in World War II. Whether that resistance be to economic oppression or fascism, knitting carries a resonant significance in discussions of modern Irish fashion.
The question of what it means to be Irish holds violent tension, one that persistent xenophobia makes difficult to resolve. Yet, I propose that perhaps knitting, an Irish tradition, can yet again be a form of resistance, because it is a global tradition too.
An Aran jumper is notable for its patterns and its wool, but the patterns are what marks them as an Irish knitted good. What I would like to see is the blending of these Irish textile traditions and those from the budding or neglected communities within Ireland. This is the most fertile ground for Irish fashion, not just a simple echo of the past, though it has its place, but an introspective blend of the past and the present, which interrogates the current culture. Knitting is but one site upon which to innovate, to resist xenophobia and marketing nostalgia.
Artistic innovation is an Irish tradition, sustainability and community investment draw significant focus, and fashion has its place here as a nexus of development. Knitwear is only one form of many in which social issues can be tackled in creative ways, because clothing is a crux of community and provides a space in which to address questions of inclusivity.
It was a wandering journey to the end of this, but the intention is to provoke thought about how change starts with the individual – and how we think about tradition and the present through the lens of fashion, because curiosity and creativity will always drive change.
“[She] stops her wheel with a sudden movement, and leans out to listen.” – J.M Synge, Riders to the Sea
