I grew up on a small island in Scotland, before moving to the mainland for high school - a decision I’ll always be grateful to my parents for. It gave me opportunities, perspective, and independence. But it also sparked something else: a deep urge to leave, to explore, to see the world beyond what I knew.
When the time came, I did exactly that. I chose a university as far away as possible, while still remaining in Scotland, and immersed myself in my studies. I loved the creative process, the people I met, and the industry projects that gave a glimpse into the world beyond graduation.
But stepping into that world was a reality check.
The fashion industry was competitive, demanding, and often inaccessible. Many entry-level roles simply didn’t offer a sustainable wage, and for me, that wasn’t an option. After years of developing my skills and finding my creative voice, I was ready to build something — but it had to be viable.
At the same time, I found myself quietly resisting something more personal.
With a distinctly Scottish name and a Highland island upbringing, there was a natural assumption that I would become a “tartan designer.” I pushed against that idea. While I deeply respected Scotland’s textile heritage - both my grandfathers were Harris Tweed weavers - I didn’t yet feel connected to it in a way that felt contemporary or aligned with my own vision. I admired it, but I didn’t fully understand it. Not yet.
It was only when I moved to the other side of the world that my perspective began to shift.
Distance has a way of sharpening identity. While I wasn’t homesick, I found myself reflecting more deeply on where I came from. Scotland’s landscapes, its colours, its textures (and its textiles) began to take on new meaning. What once felt familiar became distinctive. What once felt traditional became rich with possibility.
Tartan, in particular, drew me back in.
I began designing again, this time with a different approach — blending traditional structures with softer, more contemporary textures. I explored marled yarns, subtle colour shifts, and designs that felt both rooted and reimagined. From personal and family tartans to more playful creations (including one for Nessie — because even the Loch Ness Monster deserves a kilt), the process became both creative and deeply enjoyable.
I came to realise something simple but powerful: tartan has rules, but it is never limiting.
Years later, after building a career in TV and film costume, I felt that pull once again - back to textiles, to craftsmanship, to Scotland.
MMM Cashmere is, in many ways, a continuation of that journey. It is about rediscovering and reinterpreting Scottish textile heritage through a modern lens — honouring tradition while creating something that feels relevant today. Inspired by the colours of the landscape, the richness of the materials, and the stories woven into every thread.
This time, it’s not something I’m moving away from.
It’s something I’m building with.
And this is only the beginning.
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