The small town of Dunkinfield is built on the south bank of the River Tame in Cheshire, a few miles outside of Manchester. It faces Ashton-under-Lyne on the north bank and the neighbouring county of Lancashire. Tower Mill, built at the end of the 19th century, towers over the terraced housing that lines Park Road and the streets that stretch away from it. At the time it was built, the town was home to 14 operating cotton mills.
The Greater Manchester area – previously known as “Cottonopolis” – is the historical home of cotton spinning: in 1900, 80 per cent of cotton throughout the world was produced within 20 miles of Manchester. Cotton spinning caught the cultural imagination; novels such as North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell depicted harsh working conditions in the northern mills, the air thick with lethal white fluff and child labourers scrabbling beneath dangerous machines. The last British mill stopped spinning in the 1980s, putting an end to a slow and steady decline that had begun in the early 20th century, when countries like India and Japan began producing cotton on an industrial scale.
Thought never to return, spinning was consigned to Britain’s manufacturing history; another trade from our industrial past which was simply snuffed out, to the extreme detriment of millions of workers and hundreds of towns like Dunkinfield. So final was its end that the return of cotton spinning with English Fine Cottons is a highly unlikely revival.
English Fine Cottons describes the mill as the most technologically advanced in the world, and claims that the purity of the product makes it some of the finest cotton in the world. Machines execute every step in the process, and workers respond to them when a flashing red light signals an issue, as well as wheeling giant barrels of cotton and discarded piles of cloud-like substance around the mill. The raw cotton – from California – is cut and picked to make one mass. It is processed through a series of large mechanical vats to extract any impurities, making the long cords of cotton softer and softer to touch until it’s ready to be spun. It’s spun into gradually finer strands, from the recognisable bobbins to cones. The whole place is loud – ear plugs are worn – and hot, like a greenhouse.
The plant is gradually tamed as it makes its way up through the mill until it reaches the top floor. Huge continuous rows of spinning machines stretch the length of the Victorian building.
Bobbins are everywhere, crowding the view. Through them it is possible to catch glimpses of an employee, darting from one row to the other. Upon close inspection, it’s possible to see the tiny strands of cotton spinning around the machine.
English Fine Cottons, owned by synthetic materials producer Culimeta-Saveguard Ltd, received investment from the Textile Growth Fund in 2015, an EU fund aimed at bringing textile production back to the UK. When the mill opened, senior management expected and hoped the company to have 10-15 customers on its books buying its products, but have been shocked to receive something like 20 enquiries a week. “We’re quietly confident of success and we’ve already started reinvesting in more machinery,” says general manager Andy Ogden. When the company “fully matures” in five years, it expects to be employing 80 people and making a profit of between £5-10m.
So what changed in the international market to allow the UK back into this industry? “Nothing,” Ogden replies bluntly. “It could have happened in the UK all the way through that period.” He points out that Italy, Germany, and Portugal have never lost their spinning. The cotton mills in the UK were owned by conglomerated as opposed to family-owned companies, who had few qualms about pulling out when the going got tough. While cotton was dying in the UK, other European countries were adapting, and targeting the luxury market. “They moved into markets that were more suited to their textile industries. We really didn’t do that.”
English Fine Cottons aren’t trying to play the likes of India at their own game, but are producing high-end cotton that can be bought in small amounts – a possibility when you don’t need to ship. “It’s a quality, luxurious product; it’s a heritage product; it’s an heirloom product.” As such its competition is predominantly European. Bespoke, “Made in Britain” products are more fashionable than ever, and Ogden believes it is only right that Britain is producing its own cotton once again. “Jermyn Street is known as the shirt maker of the world, [but] it’s not British shirting.”
So what does this signify about British manufacturing in general? Ogden is emphatic about the ability of the UK to produce. “We are a country of doers. Why can’t we do it? Why can’t we make this work? … [With] investment in machinery, staffing and training we can be the best manufacturers in the world.” In the past, have politicians and companies given up too quickly? “In pockets, every government has supported some part of manufacturing. The one area that we saw that hadn’t been until very recently focused on is
the essential industries [including textiles]. If Brexit meant that we couldn’t buy any imports, how are we going to clothe ourselves?”
While the return of cotton spinning is creating revenue and jobs for the local area – almost 50 per cent of the mill’s staff walk to work – the historical and cultural significance of the industry also makes the revival emotive. Manhar Agraval is the mill’s spinning manager, and he worked in cotton spinning before it disappeared 30 years ago. Did he ever think it would come back? “No. A lot of people I meet say they never thought that it’s going to come back again.” For Agraval, cotton is personal. “What I am today is all down to the cotton industry.”
Ogden sees the return as symbolic of northern potential. “The ingenuity of the North, the drive, the passion, the dogged sheer determination is something that I’m very proud of.” Is English Fine Cottons part of the Northern Powerhouse? He cites a chain of locally owned companies through which the life cycle of a cotton product can be traced, beginning with the mill. “A network of partner businesses that are all working together to generate something that’s got value and quality, that stays within the region. That’s the Northern Powerhouse.”
Looking out from the top of the mill through the snow, it’s possible to make out bursts of smoke rising from industrial buildings stretching into the distance until the Pennines emerge as a wall. It’s a scene straight out of a Lowry painting. With the whir of cotton spinners behind, it feels like the industrial North has been resurrected.
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