On Monday Cara and I started something we have both been dreaming about for a long time: our bespoke tailoring training with Poppy Wright at her studio. It felt like a real milestone for Làmhan, the beginning of a new phase in our journey of learning, making, and reconnecting with traditional craft skills.
Poppy at work on one of her industrial sewing machines. Not as scary as I first thought.
Each Monday afternoon from now on, we will be travelling to Poppy’s studio for hands-on training in the skills of tailoring. Our goal is to build up our understanding of this slow, meticulous art form not only so that we can make beautiful things ourselves, but so that we can share what we learn with others and help keep these skills alive in our community. This opportunity has been made possible by a grant from FEL, whose support is allowing us to invest in learning so that what we gain can be passed forward. It is part of Làmhan’s ongoing commitment to sustainability, not only in materials but in knowledge: valuing the people, patience, and processes behind handmade things.
There is a calm, purposeful feeling as you step into Poppy’s studio. Thanks to the gigantic Victorian windows, the whole space is filled with bright, generous light that seems to illuminate every surface. Sample pieces hang on the walls, showing stages of work in progress, while sewing machines, pressing tools, and neatly stacked materials line the room. It is not a show space but a working one — a place where garments are being shaped, tested, and refined. The air carries the warm scent of cloth and steam, and there is a quiet focus that immediately makes you want to begin making something yourself.
Number one item on my personal wish list for our studio. This iron set up is beyond amazing
Our first task was to learn how to make a breast pocket. It did not seem simple at all. In fact, I found it quite baffling at first — the geometry of it, the precision, the careful sequence of steps. Coming from a background where I am more familiar with eighteenth-century tailoring, I was struck by how much more complex modern methods are. The techniques, materials, and underlying structures have evolved into something intricate and highly engineered. What looks like a small detail on a finished jacket is, in truth, a miniature piece of architectural design.
We began by marking out the pocket on our fabric using tailor’s chalk and a ruler. Poppy explained each step carefully: how the angle of the pocket affects the overall look of the jacket, how the welt must be perfectly aligned, how even a millimetre of difference can change the outcome. Cara quickly became fascinated by the industrial sewing machine — the hum of it, the speed, the sense of precision it offers once you find your rhythm. She said afterwards that it felt powerful, almost meditative, to guide the fabric through and see a crisp, straight line appear under the needle.
I, on the other hand, gravitated toward hand sewing. There is something deeply satisfying about the quiet rhythm of needle and thread, about watching the fabric respond to your hands alone. I did try my hand at the machine for part of the pocket, though, and I can see why Cara loves it. There is a thrill in learning to control a tool that is so central to the craft. We both agreed that one of our unexpected highlights was using Poppy’s professional iron. It is heavier and more powerful than any domestic iron, with a built-in steam unit that presses fabric to perfection. Tailoring relies on pressing just as much as stitching; it is what gives structure and definition to the garment. Poppy reminded us that an iron is not only for finishing — it is an active tool in shaping fabric, helping it remember its form.
Most tailors, Poppy explained, traditionally work standing up at a high cutting table — a posture that allows for accuracy, range of movement, and speed. Thankfully, there was also a lower table and a chair for me, which made it much easier to settle into the fine detail of the handwork. I could see, though, why standing is important to the art of tailoring — the constant motion between marking, cutting, pressing, and sewing. It is a physical process as much as a creative one.
One of the best parts of this training is learning directly from someone who has spent years immersed in this craft. Poppy trained as a bespoke tailor and runs her own studio where she creates custom garments made to measure. She carries a deep respect for the traditional processes — measuring, drafting, cutting, fitting, and finishing — while also finding ways to make the practice sustainable and relevant today. Throughout our first session she moved between us, demonstrating, adjusting, and explaining. She never rushes. Every step is an opportunity to understand why something is done a certain way, not just how.
When Cara completed her pocket, Poppy came over to examine it carefully. After a quiet moment of looking, she smiled and said, “You are a natural tailor.” Cara’s face lit up. It was not just a passing remark, but a genuine recognition of her skill and potential — a small moment that carried so much encouragement. Seeing Cara’s joy and pride made the whole room brighter.
As the afternoon went on, something shifted. The work began to make sense; the shapes and layers came together, and the earlier confusion gave way to small moments of understanding. Near the end of the session, Cara began giggling with delight — pure, unselfconscious joy at seeing her pocket take form and realising what she had achieved. It was such a lovely sound, echoing through the bright studio, and it made all the hard work of the last few weeks feel entirely worthwhile. Moments like that are what remind us why we do this — the joy of learning, of making, of seeing something come together through patience and effort.
At Làmhan, our work has always been about hands — the meaning of our name itself. We believe that making things with our hands is not only about producing objects, but about creating connection: to materials, to each other, and to our environment. Bespoke tailoring fits beautifully into that philosophy. It is the opposite of fast fashion — it is slow, deliberate, and personal. Every garment is shaped to an individual body; every stitch has purpose. In learning these techniques, we are reconnecting with a lineage of makers who understood that care and time are forms of respect — for the wearer, for the maker, and for the resources used.
Terrible photo of a beautifully tailored jacket (which Poppy made entirely by hand)
There is also a powerful sustainability story within tailoring. Well-made garments last decades; they can be repaired, altered, and cherished. Learning even the basics — such as setting in a pocket properly or pressing a seam to hold its shape — helps us understand how to extend the life of clothing and reduce waste. We want to take that knowledge back into Làmhan’s wider work, whether that is through community workshops, collaborations, or simply by demonstrating that slow, skilled making is both possible and valuable today.
This training has been supported by a £1,000 grant from FEL, which is helping to cover part of the cost of our year-long learning. Poppy has been incredibly kind and generous with her rates, making it possible for us to train with her regularly. Her belief in sharing skills and keeping traditional craft accessible has made this project achievable. It is an investment not only in us, but in the wider community we hope to reach through Làmhan.
We know that tailoring takes years to master. But we also know that every journey starts with a single stitch, and that building even a basic understanding opens the door to so much more. It is about cultivating patience, attention, and confidence — qualities that extend far beyond the sewing table. There is something profoundly sustainable about learning to make clothing from scratch. It changes the way you see everything you wear. Suddenly you notice seams, darts, the way a collar rolls, the tiny hidden stitches that hold shape — and you realise how much work and thought go into even the simplest garment.
Learning bespoke tailoring feels like learning a kind of respect — for the craft itself, for the materials, and for the body that will wear what you make. It asks for time and care, and it gives something lasting in return. Each choice matters: the fibre, the weave, the thread, even the temperature of the iron. Nothing is rushed, and nothing is wasted. Poppy encourages us to reuse offcuts for practice pieces, to think creatively about pattern layout to minimise waste, and to approach every project as something that will last. That is something we want to bring more into Làmhan’s work — exploring how traditional techniques can inform modern sustainability. In a world of mass production, handcraft is both a form of resistance and of hope: a way of slowing down and reconnecting with what truly matters.
As we left Poppy’s studio after our first afternoon, we were buzzing. Our samples were not perfect — the lines wobbled here and there, the pressing could have been crisper — but they represented the start of something real. There is a deep joy in making something tangible, in seeing progress measured not in words or numbers but in fabric held between your hands. We talked all the way home about what we had learned, what we wanted to practise, and how we might apply it. Cara could not stop talking about the industrial machine — how responsive it was, how she could feel herself improving even after a few seams. I kept thinking about the hand stitches, about how they anchor everything together invisibly. It is a reminder that much of tailoring’s beauty lies in what you do not see — the hidden craftsmanship beneath the surface. And of course, we are already looking forward to next Monday.
Over the coming months, we will be spending one afternoon each week with Poppy, gradually building up our skills and confidence. Between sessions, we will be practising at Làmhan — refining our technique and keeping notes so that we can pass on what we learn. Our hope is that this training becomes the start of a longer journey — one that connects our community with the deep, sustainable satisfaction of making things that last. There is a real hunger for skills that reconnect people to materials and processes, and tailoring offers such a beautiful way into that. We plan to share regular updates from our sessions — the challenges, the breakthroughs, the tools we fall in love with (especially that glorious iron), and the slow magic of learning something by hand.
What struck us most in this first week was how tailoring teaches patience. There is no rushing it. Every stage — from marking to stitching to pressing — requires attention. You cannot cut corners, because the fabric remembers every move you make. Tailoring, at its heart, is about respect — for the craft, for the materials, and for the person who will wear what you make. That sense of respect underpins everything. It is also what makes tailoring such a sustainable practice — it refuses disposability. Even though we are just beginning, we already feel the shift. It is not only about sewing pockets; it is about seeing clothing differently. Understanding the structure behind a jacket pocket makes you look at all garments with new eyes. You start to notice how things are built, how they could be repaired, and how design and function intertwine. We are only one week in, but already we have learned so much — and more than anything, we have rediscovered the joy of slowing down.
My first breast pocket. So much to improve on, but I’m sure I will with time.
Bespoke tailoring takes years to learn. That might sound daunting, but to us, it is exciting. There is no finish line here — only continual growth, deepening understanding, and the satisfaction of getting a little better each week. In a world that often values speed and convenience above all else, choosing to spend years learning a craft might seem countercultural. But for Làmhan, it feels perfectly aligned with what we stand for. We believe that sustainability is as much about time as it is about materials — taking time to make, time to learn, and time to care.
We are grateful to FEL for their support, and to Poppy for her generosity, patience, and skill. Learning from someone so passionate about her craft is a privilege. We are grateful as well to everyone who supports Làmhan — who comes to our workshops, follows our projects, or simply shares our belief that making things with our hands still matters.
So that is the story of our first week. One afternoon, one pocket, one stitch at a time — and already we are hooked. We will be back next Monday for more, ready to pick up our needles, switch on the iron, and continue learning the quiet art of making something properly, patiently, and with purpose. We cannot wait to share the next chapter with you.