A factory work coat over 100 years old handed down a family line of craftsmen. Whilst retired to the back of a workshop door as a piece of family history and nostalgia the coat was unfortunately caught in an accidental fire. Yet it was not forgotten. It was gently picked up, lovingly wrapped and put in safe keeping with the hope of one day finding a way to restore it…

When Sally brought this coat to me, an object so full of family stories and love, I was certainly stopped in my tracks. It was Sally who had secretly saved the coat from the fire wreckage and kept it for years while her husband Ian thought it lost forever. She commissioned the restoration to surprise him on his birthday, planning to reveal the coat on a pilgrimage trip to Chapel-en-le-frith from where it originated. It was a huge compliment and an act of trust to be given the task to repair it. It has quickly become one of my proudest commissions this year, a brief that both pushed my making skills and offered a new level of satisfaction. I am grateful to Sally for not only entrusting me with her family relic, but also for fully embracing the repair process and giving me the time and space to be as creative as possible with it.

The nature of repair is slow and thoughtful, a pace that was particularly pertinent for this unique coat. Each stage of the re-make was a challenge. Going through the garment to decide what’s salvageable and what needs to be cut loose. Carefully tracing and copying the existing panels to create new ones, cautious to mimic the way the existing fabric has worn and stretched over time. The process was unhurried, methodical and a little fearful at times. Yet my confidence grew as it gradually came together again, enjoying the test to balance old and new. The most gratifying stage was to finish by hand; it felt like a small ode to the journey of the coat as I followed the burn lines in small, detailed stitches.

Who originally owned the coat and was it used for?

The coat was originally gifted to William Brocklehurst (Bill) from his brother after returning from the Battle of Jutland in WW1. His brother worked at Ferodo Brake Linings in Chapel-en-le-Frith in the Peak Districts and the coat would’ve been standard issue for all the factory workers – a rare commodity during the make-do-and-mend era. Bill was a film salesman for Warner Brothers, whilst in his spare time an inventive and avid mechanic, racing motorcycles and a Morgan 3-wheeler on Blackpool sands. He wore the coat almost every evening whilst in his workshop. Bill and his wife Beattie retired to Falmouth.

How has it been passed down through the generations and how has each family member used it for their own work?

When Mick and Jean (Bill’s daughter) were newly-weds Bill gave the coat to Alfred Cleaver, Mick’s father and Ian’s grandfather. Alfred, in his early years was a Radio Operator posted in Negombo in Sri Lanka and in Hong Kong with his family, he was also a skilled cabinet maker and inventor. At the time he was given the coat he was beginning to build his house ‘Que Sera’ in Falmouth.

The coat was then passed on to Mick Cleaver, an RAF aircraft engineer. Mick and Jean settled in Mabe, close to Argal Reservoir. Here he built and ran a forge and vehicle repair shop whilst raising their family. The coat, in memory of his late father and late father-in-law was hung on the back of the forge door; when Alfred would finish a day’s work he would hang the jacket on the back of his door. It had remained there for over 50 years.

Mick now in his early 80’s hung up his tools many years ago, the coat and the workshop, was passed down to his son, Ian, who restores classic cars in his spare time. Ian’s earliest memories of the coat was seeing it hanging on the door of his fathers’ workshop, and similarly to each tool in the workshop that has its place above the bench or suspended on the wall, the coat’s rightful place was on the back of the door, left there in his forefathers’ memory.

Do Ian and Mick have any specific memories about the coat?

Mick’s specific memory of the coat is that his father was always, always in it. Ian’s specific memory of the coat was that it has always been on the back of the door. For both I think their main memories are that it has been ever-present within their lives and just stays where it is. Particularly for Mick, the coat embodies the coming together of two families as it was gifted to his father from his father-in-law and now son.

How did the coat get damaged?

The coat’s twill fabric had weakened over 100 years, it's age and continuous workshop life meant it was far passed its best - and yet it was beginning to take on a new life as a relic. It was miracle that it had survived this long working in such harsh conditions. Several years ago, a serious fire broke out, Ian managed to control the fire until help arrived at the time his concern was to not lose the workshop and everything in it.

Why did you immediately wrap it up and save it?

After the fire I went back to clean up the workshop - I noticed the coat heaped on the floor outside, as I unfurled it I noticed the fires tidal line and missing sections. I distinctly remember thinking this represents William, Alfred, Mick and Ian - all they’ve been through - it must not be thrown away.

How did you discover the Francli workshop?

I discovered Francli Craftwear at a Graduate Art Show, I think I was looking up Instagram accounts and linking interesting groups together; Ali's style and purpose completely resonated with me. When I saw her designs and the artistry of her work I recognised a skilled and talented maker; ahead of her time and from bygone times. I had a leather racing jacket with a tiny tear and took it to Ali to see if she had time to mend it, when I arrived I realised she was the one to take on the 'workshop coat'. We talked avidly about Boro, workwear, stitching, fabrics - I felt confident to hand the coat over - there was no time constraint with the commission, I trusted Ali to do whatever she felt she wanted to. The finished piece feels like art and will proudly hang on the back of the door again.

Chapel-en-le-Frith Peak Districts Ferodo Factory, c.1930.