Patrick Grant has spent his lockdown in Blackburn, Lancashire, attempting to fix the many thousands of holes in British COVID-19 resilience through the manufacture of scrubs and other pieces of medical apparel and PPE at the factory Cookson & Clegg, using fabrics from a nearby manufacturer Pincroft, both of which are part of Grant’s Community Clothing network. On the phone Grant reported that in addition to the workers, up to 700 volunteer sewers have been contributing to the effort, and added: “We’re wondering, how many people would like to actually make this their career? Because there are a lot of other jobs that are not going to return.” More broadly, he added, he understands that the number of Britons who have been voluntarily sewing scrubs and other medical items during this period is approaching 50,000.
Grant is tuned into this partly because of his starring role on The Great British Sewing Bee—a sewing-themed version of The Great British Bake Off—but also because this is where his unique entrepreneurial journey has taken him. This encompasses a broad range of businesses, from the high church of Norton & Sons on Savile Row (a sector he expects to face significant downturns ahead) to the doughtily democratic Community Clothing. In the middle lies E. Tautz, the dormant brand he revived as his fashion-land incarnation.
This is a look-book review, so to candidly critique clothing is impossible. Suffice to say that the collection was partially based on a random rewatch of Cocoon and the 1980s mania for Scratch and Sniff stickers. The collage images you see here are inspired by the work of Romare Bearden, and include past E. Tautz runway images overlaid with the garments and placed atop images Grant shot of local sporting fields in Lancashire—apparently the locals thought he was barmy. In these very febrile times, could a collaged image combining a black model and a white model be negatively interpreted? “People can interpret anything the way they want. But our record on casting diversely across the years is pretty solid.”
This collection, as I can see it, looked like a form of pleasurable escape for Grant and his team. To think of Don Ameche perkily playing shuffleboard in Cocoon, or David Hockney in his studio wearing a rugby shirt as punchily colored as any canvas, is a form of imaginative confectionery. Given all the far more serious work he has been doing, doubtless Grant—and many potential customers too—might appreciate this collection as a moment of sweet escape. Fun clothes for serious times, why the hell not?
