The world’s softest wool garments are hand-knitted by this hermit artisan
You’ve heard of Ermenegildo Zegna’s alpaca wool, Armani’s vicuña fleece and Dunhill’s Camdeboo mohair. Now meet the designer who is knitting luxury Fair Isle sweaters
Mati Ventrillon is one of the last people on earth making true Fair Isle sweaters.
And she doesn’t just knit them — she raises the sheep, she gently shears them, and then she works with clients one by one to select colours and patterns. Then she begins knitting.
The French-Venezuelan designer lives and works on the island of Fair Isle itself, which is located off the northeastern coast of Scotland. At one-and-a-half miles in diameter and home to just 55 people, it is the most remote inhabited island in the United Kingdom.
Ventrillon’s garments are adorned with mysterious, historic patterns and brought to life with vibrant colours. Universally popular and worn for centuries, this sweater is a classic, at once at home on the backs of preppy Ivy League grads or windswept fishermen.
However, maintaining a business to produce these garments means committing to a life of hardship and solitude.
Although tiny in circumference, it’s easy to feel dwarfed by Fair Isle’s dramatic features. Severe cliffs and rock faces jut from the ground like uplifted, petrified wings, as if poised to push the island ever deeper into the middle of nowhere. Waves replace the rustling of leaves — trees do not grow here — as they swell and crash in the distance.
Travellers wishing to visit must brave a 12-hour ferry excursion across the North Sea from Aberdeen to the Shetlands, followed by a turbulent flight on a twin-propeller aircraft from Tingwall ‘airport’— a generous term for what is little more than a tiny strip of asphalt hidden amid the shallow valleys of Veensgarth — before finally touching down on the island.
Mati lives on the far, southwestern corner in a small, weather-worn stone house where she knits and sells her sweaters, continuing a tradition passed on by generations.
“It’s called Fair Isle because it originated here on the island. No one really knows how or why it happened. The patterns were found in many different places in Northern Europe and the Baltic countries around 1850, and it’s been manufactured here continuously since then,” Ventrillon explained. “In terms of maintaining the tradition, location is absolutely crucial, which includes using only local resources.”
The local resources include sheep, of which Ventrillon has her own flock. She breeds and tends them throughout the year.