Where Time Slows Down: From Tweed in New York to Slow Living in the West of Ireland
- David j.
- Mar 20
- 3 min read
There’s a particular rhythm to life on Ireland’s western edge — one that resists urgency and rewards patience. A recent Condé Nast Traveller piece captures this beautifully, tracing a landscape where time stretches, weather dictates, and craft still matters. Reading it, I was struck not only by its sense of place, but by a familiar name woven into its narrative: Aoibheann MacNamara.
Long before her work was celebrated for its quiet devotion to slow food and slow fashion, I had the privilege of working alongside Aoibheann in a very different, high-energy context - the promotional launch of The Tweed Project at WearingIrish NYC in 2018.
At the time, I was managing Galway Print Studio (GPS), and we were brought in to help realise a bold vision. Supported by Bank of Ireland, the showcase brought ten of Ireland’s most exciting fashion and accessories designers to New York, presenting their work to influential buyers in one of the world’s most competitive markets. It was a moment of ambition - Irish design stepping confidently onto a global stage.
But Aoibheann was never interested in blending in.
From the outset, she was unwavering about one thing: authenticity. Every piece in The Tweed Project had to be genuinely made in Ireland - not partially produced, not outsourced, not finished elsewhere. Completely, unapologetically Irish. And she wanted that message to land.
Her chosen slogan raised eyebrows, even then:
“Fucking Made In Ireland.”
It was direct. Confrontational, even. But it was also honest - a reaction against the dilution of provenance that so often accompanies global production. For Aoibheann, this wasn’t just branding. It was principle.
Our challenge at GPS was to bring that message into physical form.
Printing onto t-shirts was straightforward enough - something we could organise with experienced textile printers. But the real test came with the tweed scarves. Tweed is not a forgiving material; its texture, density, and irregular surface make printing far more complex than standard fabric. Finding a printmaker capable of achieving clarity without compromising the integrity of the textile took time, experimentation, and more than a few false starts.
But that difficulty was, in a way, fitting.
Because everything about The Tweed Project resisted the easy route. It demanded care, attention, and a willingness to slow down - values that, at the time, felt almost at odds with the pace of a New York showcase.
And yet, that tension was precisely what made it compelling.
Now, eight years on, seeing Aoibheann featured for her work at Ard Bia and her continued commitment to The Tweed Project feels less like a progression and more like a deepening. The seeds were always there. What has changed is the context - and perhaps the world’s readiness to appreciate it.
The same ethos that drove her insistence on “Made In Ireland” now finds expression in slow food, in homespun textiles, and in a way of life that aligns closely with the western landscapes described in Condé Nast Traveller. A place where things take time. Where process matters as much as product. Where authenticity is not a slogan, but a practice.
Looking back, that bold phrase - controversial as it seemed - now reads less like provocation and more like a declaration of intent.
A refusal to compromise.
And, perhaps, an early signal of a wider shift: away from speed, toward substance.
In the west of Ireland, that shift feels not like a trend, but a return.
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