From the workshop, Sunday afternoon #6

I asked what the last oilskin product should be. You told me. There were more replies than I expected and I read every one.

A few patterns came through.

The biggest was clothing. Ponchos and capes - one described as Jedi meets bushranger. A hooded jacket with a heavy two-way zip. A wide-brim hat. A hat you could scrunch into a motorcycle pannier. A child's rain coat, Driza-Bone cut, for a daughter still learning to walk. There is something in all of it. Oilskin started as clothing - sailors waterproofing old sail canvas with oil. It would be a return of sorts.

But for most of it, this is the wall, and the reason I have stayed away from clothing for ten years. A tarp fits everyone. A blanket fits everyone. A coat fits one person, and only if the shoulders, the sleeve and the length are right, sight unseen, for someone I have never met. Online there is no trying it on. The fix is a full size run, which means patterns I do not have and the last of the canvas tied up in stock that might not sell. Or made to measure, which is its own trade, and a slow one.

The poncho is the way around it. A cape does not fit. It drapes. One size, near enough, for almost anyone - which removes the whole problem at once. And I am most of the way there already. The Anchorwatch is oilskin and wool, cut and finished, a blanket you sit on or lie under for warmth and throw over the top for weather. Someone wrote in to say he wants to wear his as a poncho on a cold night, hood up, against the wind. He is not wrong to. It is a short step from a blanket you wear over you to one you wear on you. That one I can see.

Then the rolls. A map and chart roll. A rifle roll, the kind thrown over a saddle in an old Western. These I understand. I already make field rolls. The material wants to be rolled.

Then the camp gear. An oilskin waste bin that hangs from a branch, out of reach of anything with a nose. A spare-wheel cover with pockets. A folding chair, for emergencies. Practical, all of it.

And the smaller things. A waterproof phone sleeve with a leather strap. A bag that unrolls into a desk mat, felt inside, oilskin out. An apron - cook's weight, woodworker's weight, blacksmith's weight - cut so the off-cuts become the pockets and straps. That last one is close to how I already think about the material. Nothing wasted. We used to do aprons. Perhaps this is the return?

I have not decided. That is the truth of it... Every one of these is a decision about where the last of the canvas goes, and once it is cut it is cut. Not only is it about scarcity, but also about whether I can make it efficiently as a small operation. So much in our lives is sewn - I look around daily at sewn objects and have ideas, yet my thinking stretches beyond "I could/should make that" to "what does it take to tool up efficiently for this idea, how large is it for shipping, does it fit within the Kohutt ecosystem, does the idea require notions I don't have, and if so can they be sourced with quality and cost in mind, can it be made to last a lifetime" etc. So I am taking my time.

I have not managed to reply to everyone yet. There were too many for that. But I will, in due course.

The offer still stands. If your idea becomes the product, the first one is yours.

I will let you know which way it goes.

Nick