First published in our March 1993 catalog, this essay chronicles the painstaking weaving of one of the world's finest fabrics, and one of Mother Nature's most paradoxical plants. 

by Cathy English

Linen is a labor of love for John McAtasnay. One of perhaps a dozen handweavers left in all of Ireland, he's been turning golden flax yarns into elegant linens for over 40 years.

Working on a 150-year-old loom located in, appropriately, a linen museum in Lisburn, we watch as he rhythmically works the treadles with his feet, the shuttle with his hands.

"Few people bother to work with linen anymore," he tells us in his thick brogue. Getting the fibers from the flax plant takes months. Spinning is difficult because the fibers are so long (12-20"). And weaving, well...

Just setting this loom up (preparing the warp yarns prior to weaving), took McAtasnay three months. No wonder there are 3,000 yarns across, each nearly as fine as a human hair!

Every l/2 yard or so, he puts a "dressing" of flour, water and animal fat on the yarns "to make them smoother." And he uses a goose wing to dry the fibers.

If a yarn breaks, McAtasnay must stop and repair it. He demonstrates a weaver's knot so fine you can't feel it with your fingers, won't see it in the finished cloth.

His weekly output of linen equals what an electronic loom weaves in an hour.

"When I first started," McAtasnay says, "my wages for three weeks' work was half a crown." Or, roughly 25 cents. (He won't reveal his age, admits only to being "old enough.") Among other things, he's created beautiful damask table linens for Princess Anne.

We wonder if McAtasnay spins yarn too. "If I had to spin the yarn and set it up," he tells us, peering over the top of his glasses, "you'd not see any fabric a' tall!"

How long does it take to learn to weave linen? "All your life."

And you can see a lifetime of loving care in the fabric as he weaves away.

The world's finest linen.
Does McAtasnay weave the exquisite linen for our new clothing? Of course not. (At his rate of production, we might have enough to make a blouse every month or so!) But he symbolizes what makes this particular fabric so extraordinary: the people behind it for whom linen is not just a product, but a passion.

Prized for cool elegance since ancient Egyptian times (it's actually the coolest of all fabrics), linen must be created with great care to bring out the best of its natural beauty.

Which is why we do go to Ireland, and Belgium as well, for our fabrics: they've been making the cream of the world's linen crop for centuries.

Each of the mills we use boast a rich heritage. Between them, they've created linens for several European royal families, embassies and the world's finest hotels. Even our White House.

They showed us what makes their fabrics so extraordinary, starting literally, from the ground up.

"The flax plant is a paradox of Mother Nature."
John Libeert pulls one from the ground, roots and all, and explains. From it comes a fragile blue flower that lasts only a few hours, and a fiber that creates one of the most enduring fabrics on earth, linen.

The flax field we're standing in is just down the road from Libeert's mill in the village of Meulebeke, Belgium. Flax has been grown here in the Flanders region since the 13th century, and is considered the highest quality in the world today. One reason is their mild, rainy climate, which flax loves. The other: cultivation skills that have been handed down for generations.

Take Libeert, one of Europe's leading authorities on flax and linen. He can trace his linen lineage back five generations. (His children carry on with tradition in the company's marketing, design and retail areas.)

"Our mill, Libeco, started in 1864, is small by American standards — 125 workers," he tells us. "But all are highly skilled, because linen is difficult to work with. It's the only fabric we make. You can't be in too many fibers and do them all well."

From flower to fiber.
One reason linen is so prized and, admittedly expensive, he says, is the long, painstaking process of turning flax into fabric. Many of the steps have changed only in degree of mechanization since ancient Egyptian times. And Flanders is one of the few areas where all phases can still be found.

Some are now machine operations, but others are still done by hand here to bring out the best features of the fiber. "Our methods may seem old-fashioned or outdated," Libeert continues. "But they produce the highest quality flax — nice and soft. Which makes better yarns, which means better garments."

Flax is sewn in the spring, and three months later produces its delicate blue flower. "The flowering of a flax field is a rare sight — lasting just a couple days," he says. Harvest is in midsummer.

"You never cut flax plants, but pull them from the ground because the fibers extend down into the roots," Libeert continues. He breaks up the woody stalk to reveal the long, golden fibers encased inside.

Extracting them takes many months.
Once harvested, flax is dried in the fields. Then the fibers have to be loosened from the pectin gums and woody stalk in a process called "retting."

There are two ways to do this, Libeert says, and both require expertise in timing as well as handling. In "dew retting," flax is laid in the fields to absorb the morning dew, which takes about 3-6 weeks. "Water retting" is done by soaking the flax in rivers, ponds, or more recently, tanks of warm water.

One small retting operation we visit, where huge cement tanks are tightly packed with bundles of flax, Libeert calls "practically a museum." Why? Although much faster (3-5 days long), it takes more manpower and may cause pollution problems. Thus, most flax in Europe is dew retted today. (Amazingly, the same method used by ancient Egyptians.)

He takes us to another field where row upon row of small cone-shaped bundles called "chapels" stand at attention.

The flax is being dried once again. The stalk and seeds are removed, then the bundles of flax fibers are "hackled" (combed smooth), and look remarkably like human hair.

Finally, after many months, the flax is ready for the spinning mill.

"You can't rush flax."
Libeert points out that good quality flax should be long, the fibers even in length, with a soft, supple feel that's "silky" to the touch.

There are faster ways of processing flax, he admits, but warns: "It can turn brittle or coarse — I don't understand how they can make garments out of it."

Spinning and weaving, through Irish eyes.
Linen is as synonymous with Ireland as the shamrock. Like the Belgians, the Irish have been growing flax and weaving linen since the 13th century. Today the center of the linen trade is Northern Ireland.

From bustling Belfast, we head southwest through the hilly countryside quilted with neat farm fields to Dungannon, home of the 200-year-old Moygashel Mill.

It soon becomes clear why theirs is the aristocrat of the world's linens: from chief executive Noel McEvoy, to the women who hand-inspect every inch of cloth before it goes out the door, they put their hearts into the shimmering cloth.

Master spinners.
"If the yarn's not right, your fabric won't be right," says general manager Dan Adair firmly. True to his heritage, he can tell yarns spun in Ireland from those that aren't, just by looking. "See? They're finer, more uniform. Others are split and irregular. "He ought to know, having been in the textile industry 40 years (McEvoy calls him the "god of linen in Northern Ireland").

Part of the secret, Adair says, is that unlike wool or cotton, long flax fibers can be "wet spun." We watch as they're immersed in warm water to soften the gummy pectins holding individual fibers together, enabling them to be spun into unbelievably fine, even yarns. (The shorter flax fibers don't go to waste, but are "dry spun" into coarser yarns perfect for wallcoverings, canvas and home furnishing fabrics.)

Weaves, elegant to intricate.
It's a far cry from handweaver John McAtasnay's 150-year-old loom to what we find in Moygashel's weaving room.

Surrounded by the din, we watch as 40 computer-controlled looms briskly turn out reams of airy plain weaves, as well as intricate damasks.

But even with all this modern technology, weaving linen is still a challenge, says manager Tommy Patterson (who has 34 years of experience). Mainly because of the inelasticity of the yarns, humidity becomes a key ingredient — huge pipes in the ceiling keep it around 80%. (That's why Europeans used to weave in caves.)

Finishing touches.
To demonstrate the importance of finishing, we're handed two fabrics to compare. One is sand-colored, feels stiff and scratchy like burlap. The other is a lustrous snow-white, and fairly shimmers with silky softness.

Joe Wilson, who runs the finishing plant, has been working with linen for 49 years, is his family's sixth generation in the business. In the past, we're told, woven linen was spread out on open fields to be naturally bleached by sunlight, rain and dew.

Today, more modern methods are used. We think. Everyone is pretty close to the vest about their finishing techniques. (It's a bit like getting someone to reveal the secret to their prize-winning recipe. ) Our Belgian mill said it's "a little bit of this, a little bit of that." McEvoy goes a bit farther, crediting the soft water in Irish rivers and streams. He also says their bleaching methods are "the same as those used 500 years ago."

Next stop: the States.
Our story doesn't end on the other side of the Atlantic. These luxurious linens are put into the hands of our fastidious tailors here in the States, who are as passionate about fine tailoring as the mills are about fine fabrics.

We price our clothes exceptionally, in the Lands' End tradition. Each and every one is, from flax to finished garment, a labor of love.

The Beauty of LINEN

• Thought to be delicate and fragile, linen is actually stronger than cotton or wool, and second only to silk in strength. Durable? Think of heirloom table linens, powerful sailcloths and Egyptian mummy wrappings.

 
• Unlike most fabrics, linen only gets stronger when wet, making it ideal for tea towels and other household items.

 
• Linen cools you faster than any other other fabric, including cotton.

 
• While pure linen in naturally prone to creasing, it's often woven with cotton or rayon to help reduce wrinkles. (Which you'll find in many of our new fabrics. For purists who find the creases enhance linen's character, we have plenty of 100% linen products