Knitting, Behind the scenes

Shetland… Or Shetland-ish? The Sneaky Side of Yarn Branding

Sophie shares her thoughts on the recent ‘Shetland’ wool debate ruffling a few feathers in the knitting world this month.

In our woolly, wonderful world of yarn, fibre, and textiles, names and places matter. The words on our ball bands carry weight, they paint vivid pictures of rolling hills, sheep-dotted landscapes and centuries-old traditions. They also set expectations – about the quality of the yarn we’re swooning over, its history, and, most importantly, its origin. But what happens when that evocative name doesn’t quite match reality? Is it just a bit of clever yarn branding, or are we being led astray as we blissfully add to our ever-growing yarn stashes? And for us knitters, does it really matter where our skeins actually come from?

Billie Eilish unknowingly set the wool world alight when she took to the stage to woo the crowd wearing a so-called ‘Shetland’ cap at the Grammy’s earlier this month. Eagle-eyed knitters quickly clocked the Moon branding, a respected West Yorkshire wool mill and the word ‘Shetland’ embroidered boldly in red beside it. Could a celeb really be rockin’ a Shetland wool hat at a glitzy award ceremony? Turns out, not quite! It was merely ‘Shetland type,’ which is just marketing talk for “it sort of looks the part.” 

According to an article Janice sent me, Moon took to socials to clarify that the term referred to the character of the wool, not its actual birthplace. Which, in this case, involved fibres from as far afield as New Zealand and South Africa. An imposter in a world of authentic Shetland wool!

It’s not the first time a yarn (or in this case, a cap donned by a massive celebrity) has been given a name that suggests more than it delivers. And it got Janice and I thinking – how often does this happen in the yarn world? Because let’s face it, Billie’s cap might be the latest culprit, but it’s bound to be far from the only woolly offender. I made myself a cup of coffee and asked myself: when it comes to yarn branding, does a name really matter? Or is it just clever marketing fluff?

A flock of shetland sheep in a field by water
Shetland: sheep-dotted fields and beautiful British wool, or something else entirely?

Knitters, what does the word Shetland mean to you?

For us knitters, yarn isn’t just yarn. Every skein we add to our stash carries a little history with it or, at the very least, a very good excuse for why we needed another one. When a yarn bears the name of a well-known place on its label, it suggests more than just a marketing ploy. It suggests the origin, a lineage, traditional methods or a particular way of making.

Take Shetland wool, for instance. When you hear ‘Shetland,’ what comes to mind? Beautiful Fair Isle patterns? Hardy native sheep braving the elements? Wool that’s strong, grippy, and perfect for steeking? All of the above and so much more? 

The name means something, it carries weight. So, when a product uses the name without any real connection, it can feel a bit…off.

Loch Lomond, a big body of water amongst fields and hills in Scotland. The water is still and the surrounding landscape is reflected in its surface
Loch Lomond is a place in Scotland that holds a lot of meaning. Is it really okay to take its name in vain?

Loch Lomond by BC Garn, a very un scottish wool.

Another prime example of this is Loch Lomond by BC Garn. With its beautifully tweedy, rustic appearance and neppy texture, the name instantly conjures up images of that iconic loch, of the surrounding highlands with its red deer and oak woodland. It makes you think of wool production steeped in history and the romance of traditional fibre arts. But here’s the kicker… Loch Lomond isn’t made in Scotland at all. The woolly fibre actually comes from mulesing-free farms over 5000 miles away in South America and then spun and dyed in Turkey, no where near the Scottish freshwater loch at all.

Clever branding or misleading marketing?

Alright, if we’re honest with ourselves, yarn brands are always going to use place names to make their yarn sound more romantic, more rustic, more steeped in history than it might actually be. And sometimes, they’re upfront about it. BC Garn, for example, doesn’t necessarily hide the fact that Loch Lomond yarn is sourced from South America and produced in Turkey – it does say so on the yarn label and in the product description on their website. But in other cases, yarn branding can be vague, leaving knitters to make assumptions that aren’t quite accurate.

And that’s where things get tricky. Is it misleading? Or is it just clever marketing?

If you’re buying yarn because of its look, feel, and knitting qualities, maybe it doesn’t matter so much. But if you’re consciously trying to support local wool industries, reduce your yarn miles, or invest in heritage fibres, then, yeah, discovering your “Scottish” yarn is actually from the other side of the world might be a bit disappointing.

A bundle of 100% british wool sits in a basket atop a table. The sun is low and the lighting casts a beautiful shadow across the shot
Buying British wool is important to some knitters. Do we need to look closer at the yarn labels?

Transparency is key

At the end of the day, I’m a firm believer in honesty. As knitters, we care about where our yarn comes from. Whether it’s seeking out British wool to support local farmers or simply wanting to know where a particular fibre has travelled, transparency in yarn branding helps us make informed choices. And let’s face it, if a yarn is high quality, well-made and knits up a treat, it doesn’t need a misleading name to sell itself.

So, what’s a knitter to do?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying yarn and fibres from across the world are bad and my yarn stash is a reflection of that with its healthy mix of local and international wool. Right now, I’m knitting up a Champagne Cardigan by Petiteknit in Sandnes Garn Peer Gynt, a 100% Norwegian wool, but I also make a conscious effort to stock up on homegrown British wool – like the World of Wool Isle I just made my latest handknit sweater in. It’s important to me that I try to shop more sustainably, support smaller businesses and make the most of the glorious British wool we have right here on our doorstep, but I’m not dismissing others. I’m not saying we should ditch all yarns with lovely place-based names. But I do think we deserve to know where our yarn actually comes from without having to dig through layers of clever yarn branding and marketing fluff.

I guess, bottom line is, whether you’re picking up a skein as a holiday souvenir or hunting down a ball that’s full of history and tradition, a quick label check, or a chat with your friendly local yarn shop owner can make all the difference.

So, what do you think? Have you ever been caught out by a yarn name and a bit of sneaky yarn branding? Or do you think a name is just a name and, as long as the wool is good, you’re happy to knit it up? I’d love to hear your take on things.

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