MOON - Woven With Northern Soul

https://www.abrahammoon.co.uk/

 

We are currently only able to ship within the UK for online orders of both samples & fabrics.

For international trade enquiries, please email customerservice@moons.co.uk.

 

ABOUT US

Founded in 1837 and with our roots in apparel, we are one of the last remaining vertical woollen mills in Great Britain, with a reputation for consistent quality and innovative design. Here you can discover more about the Abraham Moon mill, our illustrious company history, and the many natural benefits of wool fabrics.

 

COMPANY HISTORY

Our company's fine history is just one of many features that come together to make Abraham Moon products extra special, and is something we're rightfully proud of. From supplying fabric for a growing Leeds market throughout the 1800's to supplying the major fashion houses of modern times, this rich tapestry all comes together to create quite a story over the past 180 years.

 

FROM HUMBLE BEGINNINGS TO INTERNATIONAL RENOWN

1837 - A memorable year in at least 2 respects. It was the year in which Queen Victoria succeeded to the British throne and it was also the year in which Abraham Moon & Sons was founded.

 

Abraham Moon, a considerable standing in the community of Guiseley, on the Northern fringes of Leeds and the Southern fringes of the Yorkshire Dales, supplied many local families with yarn to weave cloth on hand looms in their homes. When the cloth was woven he would collect the pieces, paying the weavers for their work. The cloth was then scoured (washed) locally and hung out to dry in the surrounding fields. Abraham would then transport the pieces by horse and cart to Leeds for sale in the market.

 

 1868 - Abraham had a three storey mill built on Netherfield Road in Guiseley, less than 300 yards from his house at the top of Oxford Avenue. The mill had an abundant source of local water which was soft and ideal for scouring (washing) and other processes necessary in woollen manufacture. Today we still use the pure water springs underneath the mill for scouring; as manufacturing technology progresses with time it's these simple historic details that make our fabrics special.

 

The newly built railway to Leeds ran directly behind the mill which had its own sidings. This proved an invaluable form of transport both inward (wool for processing, coal for power) and outward (distribution of cloth to the expanding consumer network). The company’s records show exports to both Western Europe and Japan as early as the 1890’s.

 

 1877 - In August 1877 Abraham Moon lost his life in an accident. A report from the local newspaper at the time sets the scene:

 

“Mr Moon was attending the annual Yeadon feast in his horse-drawn carriage. When a band struck up the startled horse bolted down Henshaw Lane. Two passengers managed to jump clear and were unharmed but Mr Moon stayed in his carriage trying to calm his horse. In its panic it tried to turn into a familiar lane where there was no room for the carriage. The vehicle demolished part of a wall into which Abraham Moon was thrown. He died soon afterwards from a head injury”. The article goes on to report that the horse survived the accident!

 

After his death, Abraham’s son Isaac succeeded him in the business, which continued to flourish throughout the remainder of the Victorian era.

 

 1902 - The original multi-storey mill burned to the ground. Undeterred Isaac Moon built a much larger single storey mill. By this time the mill had become fully vertical, meaning all manufacturing processes took place on one site – from raw wool through dyeing, blending, carding, spinning, warping weaving, and finally finishing the fabrics. We are one of the very few remaining vertical woollen mills left in Great Britain today. Isaac Moon took the business forward until his death in 1909.

 

Design and pattern books which date back to the early part of the Twentieth Century tell a story in themselves. Fashion fabrics from 1900 to 1913 gradually give way to army shirting, trouserings and greatcoat cloths from 1914 which in turn are replaced by the emerging fashions of the 20s. Today designers use the old pattern books for inspiration with new designs and the re-creation of retro looks.

 

 1920 - The Moon family sold their shares in the company in order to pursue other interests. The shares were purchased by Charles H Walsh who was both designer and mill manager at the time with the borrowed sum of £33,000, the equivalent of £1.25m today. Charles' death in 1924 saw the company passed onto his son Frank, who was already in the business.

 

1954 - Frank’s nephew Arthur took control, only retiring as chairman in 2010. The current managing director is John Walsh, the fourth generation of the family which succeeded the Moon dynasty. 1952 also marked a further extension of the mill, still located at the original site on Netherfield Road, making more room for the warping and weaving of the fabrics.

 

 1990 - Throughout the 1990's, wool faced increased competition from man-made fabric. While many mills tried (and failed) to compete on price, Moon focused on quality and concentrated on the luxury market, taking advantage of the manufacturing control and consistency that only a vertical mill can offer. Our customer list includes major international brands such as Burberry, Paul Smith, and Ralph Lauren.

 

2009 – Bronte Tweeds was purchased by Abraham Moon & Sons. Already a well-known producer of throws and tartans, the combination of Bronte's extensive market knowledge and our dedicated in-house design team and manufacturing versatility has seen our accessories division grow exponentially in the years since. Bronte Tweeds was rebranded as Bronte by Moon in 2013.

 

The showroom space was renovated from our old finishing department, where for decades our fabrics went to be steam pressed and rolled before the final quality control checks and despatch.

 

We have archive pictures of the space from even further back, 1912 in fact, when the area was used for burling and mending. You can clearly see the Victorian-era building archways and brickwork behind our new Sales & Marketing office.

 

This original building work was then extended in the 1950s, adding approximately 10m to the width of the mill on what was previously a courtyard. This is where our mill stands to this day, in close proximity to Netherfield Road.

 

Now it has been completely transformed into what you see here and below; an opportunity for us to not only give our ever-expanding product range a permanent display, but to tell the story of our unique heritage and historic craftsmanship.

 

CONTACT INFORMATION

We love to hear from you on our customer service, product range, website, or any other topics you wish to share with us. Your comments and suggestions will always be appreciated; please complete our ‘Get in Touch’ form with your feedback.

 

Our customer service team aim to respond to all messages within 24 hours; during our busier periods this may not be possible so please allow up to three working days for a reply.

 

For the address, contact number and opening hours of the Abraham Moon shops in York and Guiseley please see below:

 

YORK

33 Stonegate, York, YO1 8AW

Mon-Sat: 9am-5:30pm   Sun: 11am-5pm

 

GUISELEY

Netherfield Road, Guiseley, LS20 9HQ

 

Mon-Sat: 10am-5pm   Sun: 10am-4pm

 

 

THE FABRIC SHOP

 

Our stock supported fashion fabrics are now available online. Pick from classic best-selling tweeds in a wide range of colours from the Abraham Moon range.

 

We're pleased to provide this special cut-length service, through which our fabrics are used for all manner of projects including tailored jackets, trousers, skirts, hats, and even footwear. All Moon tweed fabrics are British made at our unique woollen mill in Guiseley, Yorkshire, where we have been crafting fine cloths with love & precision for 180 years.

How is Tweed Made? | Inside Lovat Mill

 

Our Story

Situated on the banks of the river Teviot, in the picturesque Scottish Borders town of Hawick, Lovat Mill is 'The Home of tweed'.

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The Home of Tweed

The product we all recognise as “Tweed” has its origins in Commercial Road, Hawick, just a few metres away from where Lovat Mill stands today.

Read more

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Our Craft

Lovat Mill has a worldwide reputation for woven excellence in design and quality. As well as the production of Tweed, the mill is also famous for its woven pure cashmeres and other luxury fabrics.

Read more

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Our Process

Our production process is a seamless blend of traditional craft skills and modern technology. Find out how we go from design to delivery.

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Discover

Be inspired by our range of luxe tweed and cashmere products, the perfect gift or treat for yourself.

Read more

Lovat Mill
Commercial Road, Hawick
Scotland, TD9 7AQ

+44 (0)1450 373231
admin@lovatmill.com

British Country Style for Men | Fall Style Guide

 

25 British Clothing Brands That Still Make Everything in Britain

0:00 25 British clothing brands that still manufacture their products in Britain.

1:05 Trickers

1:40 Edward Green

2:08 Cheney

2:45 Sanders

3:15 Grenson

3:45 Loke

4:16 Barker

4:52 NPS

5:31 Turnbull and Asser

6:04 Emma Willis

6:41 Private White VC

7:14 Walker Slater

7:59 Old Town

8:34 Cookson and Clegg

9:10 Community Clothing

9:47 Pantherella

10:22 Glenmuir

10:51 William Lockie

11:25 Begg X Co

12:34 Malaliers of Delph

13:11 Fox Brothers

13:45 Abraham Moon

14:27 Hainsworth

15:06 Burberry

8 Towns In England Where People Still Live In Houses — Older Than America

 

The World of Downton Abbey and The Buccaneers

It is impossible to follow "Downton Abbey" without associating it with the world of rich American heiresses who came to England to marry, and rescue with their money, ancestral houses and titles ... as described in "The Buccaneers", the last unfinished work of Edith Wharton ...

Jeeves

You may be surprised by the many similarities between the plot of Downton Abbey and the history of the Highclere Castle and the Carnarvon family. Julian Fellowes, the writer of Downton Abbey, is life-long friend of the Carnarvons and used bits of family history as inspiration. One of the more striking similarities is between Cora Crawley  and Almina Carnarvon.

As the result of the rapid industrialization of the late 19th century, a new upper class was created in the United States. It was almost impossible for the "new money" to integrate themselves into the established American upper class due to the attitudes of the established old money. Beginning in the late 1870s, the new American heiresses began to turn to Britain to find suitable husbands in the aristocracy. At the time, the British upper class was land-rich but were running out of money. They were in desperate need of cash in order to run their vast estates. They gladly turned to the new American money so they could avoid losing their family estates. In Britain, the rules of inheritance was based on primogeniture and property was almost exclusively passed to the eldest male. In the United States, property was usually spilt between children, enabling women were able to inherit large sums of money.  For fifty years, there were many marriages between British aristocrats and American heiresses. These new members of the British aristocracy were referred to as Buccaneers. By 1900, it was estimated that about a quarter of the British House of Lords had an American connection.

As the first installment of Downton Abbey revealed, Cora, an American heiress, married Lord Grantham for her money. Cora was the daughter of a dry goods millionaire and a member of "new money" American class. When she married Lord Grantham, the estate of Downton Abbey was near financial ruin. Afterwards, Cora's large dowry and later large inheritance, was tied up in an entail (see this post on Austenprose for info). Though the the marriage was initially one out of convenience, it grew into a love match as seen in the series.
In the book, The World of Downton Abbey, it is stated that Cora was inspired by the real-life Buccaneer, Lady Curzon. However, there are several parallels to Lady Almina Carnavorn, real life chatelaine of Highclere. In the late 19th century, the 5th Earl of Carnarvon was in serious debt, about 150,000 pounds. He owned 6,000 acres from four estates, including Highclere Castle. At the time, Highclere was in poor shape due to the large amount of money required to maintain the house. In 1895, Lord Carnarvon married Almina Wombwell, an heiress with access to an enormous amount of cash. Officially, Almina was the daughter Marie and Fred Wombwell but she was rumored to be the love child of Marie and Alfred de Rothschild. Rothschild was a wealthy banking tycoon. Unlike the social norm, he did not shun his illegitimate daughter and only child. Instead, he provided his "god-daughter" with a sizable dowry and eventually, inheritance. Almina had many suitors as a result. Once married, Rothschild not only provided a large dowry, but he also gave the couple a substantial annual allowance. Rothschild's money paid for Highclere's expenses and it also provided money for the couple to maintain several other homes as well as fund the Earl's Egyptian adventures in the 1920s. Initially, Almina was looked down upon by society.  She eventually won society over and her husband through "her wit, brave spirit and fabulous dresses."

While there are some differences between the stories of Almina and Cora, there are several parallels. Both women married into the British aristocracy because of their money and were responsible for saving the estate from severe financial ruin.
Posted 10th January by Abby in http://nookstowersandturrets.blogspot.nl

Remains of the Days
Three Books Explore the Reality Behind the World of ‘Downton Abbey’
By JUDITH NEWMAN
Published: February 3, 2012 in The New York Times
The British costume drama “Downton Abbey,” shown here on PBS, is now unfurling in all its magnificence, and I, like its millions of American fans, will again be reminded of what it would take for my life to be truly suitable:
— Everything brought to me on a silver salver.

— Breakfast in bed daily, because I am a married woman and that is my prerogative.

— A steward’s room boy whose entire job it is to watch a panel of bells, each connected to a different room in the house from which I might ring for service. Since I live in a 1,500-square-foot co-op, this isn’t such a bad job.

— The soles of my shoes polished.

— My newspaper ironed.

— My sheets ironed.

— My shoelaces ironed.

Until “Downton Abbey,” I never realized how many of my deepest desires involved ironing. True, it would also be nice to have a great deal of furtive sex with my social inferiors, preferably in crinolines. But at this point, I’d settle for a crisp newspaper.

I know I should feel guilty about my cravings for these things. But that’s the beauty of shows like “Downton Abbey” and its venerable ancestor “Upstairs, Downstairs”: the lives of the gentry are filled with so much intrigue, excruciating protocol and silent suffering that it would be churlish to resent their unimaginably comfortable existence.

And there’s another draw for Americans, particularly in an election year. We continue to labor under the delusion that we live in a class-free society — that social mobility is a birthright, not a remote possibility. If we’re not continually upgrading our circumstances, as Newt Gingrich reminds us, it’s our own damn fault. We are expected to be “Oprah”-ishly self-actuating and self-improving, and only sloth prevents us from achieving spiritual clarity and financial success. How perversely comforting, then, to turn our attention to a world where you will die where you are born and where the heroes are the rare overachievers who work their way up to butler from footman.

The merchant class, which is to say the publishing industry, is mining the popularity of “Downton Abbey” with the release and re-release of two books that inspired the show, and the inevitable companion volume to the TV series (inevitably titled “The World of Downton Abbey”). One memoir is written from the point of view of upstairs, one from downstairs. See if your keen discerning eye can spot the difference:

“Highclere was a symbiotic system, and mutual respect was the key to its success. The fifth Earl prided himself on an Old World courtesy, and that set the tone for the entire household. He took an interest in the well-being of the staff and the cottagers on the estate; often a donation would be made towards a fund for a tenant whose livestock had died, and money was also made available for the staff to have medical treatment.”

“On Christmas Day after breakfast all the servants had to line up in the hall. . . . Mr. and Mrs. Cutler, and the daughter and the grandchildren, were assembled complete with Christmas smiles and social welfare expressions. The children looked at us as though we were beings from another world. . . . When we got to the Christmas tree we deferentially accepted the parcels that were handed to us by the children, and muttered, ‘Thank you, Master Charles, thank you, Miss Susan.’ ”

The first selection, from “Lady Almina and the Real Downton Abbey,” is written by the former fashion designer Fiona Aitken, now the eighth Countess of Carnarvon. She and her husband, the earl, are the current residents of Highclere, the 1,000-acre Hampshire estate that, not surprisingly, resembles Parliament, considering they share an architect, Charles Barry. Highclere is also the filming location of “Downton Abbey.”

The countess’s book tells the story of the beautiful and diminutive “Pocket Venus,” Almina Victoria Marie Alexandra Wombwell, who lived at Highclere from 1895 to 1923 with her husband, George Edward Stanhope Molyneux Herbert, fifth Earl of Carnarvon. He is best known as the co-discoverer of King Tutankamen’s tomb — after a series of expeditions financed by Almina. Because, like many aristocratic families of the time, the Carnarvons were long on lineage and short on cash. So he did what every self-respecting gadabout did: look for an heiress who could rescue him, and his family pile, from ruin.

Enter Almina, for Burke’s Peerage the child of Capt. Frederick Charles Wombwell and Marie Boyer but rumored to be the illegitimate daughter of Sir Alfred de Rothschild. A director of the Bank of England for 20 years and the first Jew ever to hold that position, Rothschild doted on his “godchild” and made it known that he was prepared to give her a “fortune” on her marriage. He also wanted to solidify both her standing in society and his own. He paid up Lord Carnarvon’s debts and settled on her a sum of £12,000 (roughly $1.5 million in today’s currency) a year. Almina proceeded to turn Highclere into a social epicenter of Edwardian England.

When World War I broke out, the perfect society lady became the perfect nurse, opening her home to the wounded and transforming it into a hospital. Loyal servants who wanted to go off and fight were promised that their jobs would be available upon their return. Does oblige ever get more noblesser? When Lord Carnarvon died, allegedly of a mosquito bite and blood poisoning, a pall fell over the dozens of grieving servants. At least this is the eighth countess’s story. Almina was a woman of great charm and courage, and the family universally beloved.

This account differs somewhat from that in a biography of Lady Almina that came out last year. William P. Cross’s “Life and Secrets of Almina Carnarvon” tells of a woman who traded her money for a prestigious but arid marriage, took lovers young and old (including her husband’s best man) and burned through Rothschild’s dowry, leaving her feckless son enraged and penniless when he finally inherited the estate. Lady Almina did, in fact, open her home to the wounded, and went on to open a series of tony nursing homes (and discreet abortion clinics) for the rich and famous. But the homes never paid for themselves, and she and her second husband, a military officer named Ian Dennistoun, whom she married a few months after Lord Carnarvon’s death, ended up in bankruptcy court. Almina died in greatly reduced circumstances in Bristol in 1969, at the age of 93.

I suspect the real story of the relationship of servants to their masters is more accurately told by Margaret Powell, in her simple and quite brilliant “Below Stairs.” Here she throws the last shovel of dirt on the myth of the devoted help and their unfailing love and respect for the stately home. Powell notes that G. K. Chesterton “wrote about the malignity of inanimate objects,” and then adds that she thinks “they are malign because they take up so much of my time dusting, polishing and cleaning them.”

First published in England in 1968, Powell’s memoir was an inspiration for the classic television series “Upstairs, Downstairs.” She recalls her years “in service” from the time she was a desperately poor girl from a family of seven, growing up in a few rented rooms in Hove, to her years working long days as a kitchen maid and eventually cook in the houses of the good and the great. Apparently she was sufficiently immune to the charms of her employers to seek escape through marriage, children and higher education. “Below Stairs” was a hit, and Powell went on to write other books about her experiences. But perhaps none were quite so powerful as this one, which describes in simple and often excruciating detail the divide between Us and Them. “We always called them ‘Them,’ ” Powell writes. “ ‘Them’ was the enemy, ‘Them’ overworked us, and ‘Them’ underpaid us, and to ‘Them,’ servants were a race apart, a necessary evil.” In those carefree days before nondisclosure agreements, it was assumed by everyone that “what they upstairs did, although it was a subject of scandal and gossip and laughter, was their privilege. Not because they were better than us, but because they had money and it was no good having money if you couldn’t deviate from the norm.”

What makes Powell such a credible narrator is the fact that she’s never reflexively bitter or nasty. When she worked for a family that treated her with kindness and without condescension, she was deeply grateful and desperate to please. These families were rare. More common were those that showed their utter disregard for the servants by practicing necessary “economies” on the staff, monitoring their food and furnishing their rooms with broken castoffs. As the arbiters of morality for the help, a girl’s employers could dismiss her for paying too much attention to her appearance, since there was a slippery slope from wearing makeup to having an out-of-wedlock child (cause for immediate dismissal, of course, without pay and indeed, usually, without anyplace to go). In one home, Powell was excoriated for passing the day’s mail to the lady of the house by hand: “Tears started to trickle down my cheeks; that someone could think that you were so low that you couldn’t even hand them anything out of your hands without it first being placed on a silver salver.”

Well. It made me kind of rethink my whole silver salver fantasy. Though I still want my sheets ironed.

All these years later, “Below Stairs” retains its peculiar fascination. Powell does nothing to romanticize poverty or domestic service, and considers the few servants who Stockholmishly identified with their masters as jack­asses. But she also makes us understand that service could be tolerable and, in some cases, almost pleasant. There’s a certain freedom from stricture, at least in your life outside work, and a certain pleasure in knowing you’re a capable person, while the people you serve are not.

Later in her career, Powell had occasion to work for older ladies in reduced circumstances — perhaps ladies like Lady Almina. “I can’t help thinking that people who were once wealthy and now have to live on a fixed income are worse off than ordinary working-class people,” she observes, while “people who are living on fixed incomes like these old ladies have got to keep on trying to keep up some sort of show.” And that, perhaps more than anything, is what united servant and master. Not love, not admiration, not even fear — but a certain measure of pity. That man standing at attention in the white gloves may be feeling just a little bit sorry for you.


Judith Newman is the author of “You Make Me Feel Like an Unnatural Woman: Diary of a New (Older) Mother.

THE WORLD OF DOWNTON ABBEY
By Jessica Fellowes
Illustrated. 303 pp. St. Martin’s Press. $29.99.
LADY ALMINA AND THE REAL DOWNTON ABBEY
The Lost Legacy of Highclere Castle
By the Countess of Carnarvon
Illustrated. 310 pp. Broadway. Paper, $15.99.
BELOW STAIRS
The Classic Kitchen Maid’s Memoir That Inspired “Upstairs, Downstairs” and “Downton Abbey.”
By Margaret Powell
212 pp. St. Martin’s Press. $22.99.

The Glitter and the Gold
Author: Consuelo Vanderbilt Balsan
For fans of Downton Abbey, this is the riveting real-life story of the Vanderbilt heiress who married the Duke of Marlborough in 1895. A fascinating insight into upstairs-downstairs life and the highest circles of Edwardian aristocracy.
Consuelo Vanderbilt was young, beautiful and the heir to a vast family fortune. She was also deeply in love with an American suitor when her mother chose instead for her to fulfil her social ambitions and marry an English Duke. Leaving her life in America, she came to England as the Duchess of Marlborough in 1895 and took up residence in her new home - Blenheim Palace.The 9th Duchess gives unique first-hand insight into life at the very pinnacle of English society in the Edwardian era. An unsnobbish, but often amused observer of the intricate hierarchy both upstairs and downstairs at Blenheim Palace, she is also a revealing witness to the glittering balls, huge weekend parties and major state occasions she attended or hosted. Here are her encounters with every important figure of the day - from Queen Victoria, Edward V11 and Queen Alexandra to Tsar Nicholas, Prince Metternich and the young Winston Churchill.This intimate, richly enjoyable.
in http://www.qbd.com.au

Because of their "new money" background, four American girls have difficulty breaking into the upper-crust society of New York. Laura Testvalley, the governess of one of the girls, suggests a London season and thus the young women set sail for England and the unsuspecting English aristocracy. In England, all the girls soon find eligible husbands and the youngest girl, Nan, seems to land the best husband of them all: the handsome and very wealthy Julius, Duke of Trevennick. Nan and Julius meet for the first time in a ruin, which is an indication of where their marriage is soon heading. After the nuptials, Julius seems more interested in clocks and stable boys than Nan's happiness, and all the girls soon discover that English upper-class men are not at all what they expected and hoped for.

What Life Was Really Like for Consuelo Vanderbilt at Blenheim Palace