In the Making: A Journey Through Fashion, Factories, and Far Away Places.

What Four Decades in Apparel Taught Me

Funny how life works, isn’t it? If you’d told 17-year-old me, hunched over my mum’s old Singer sewing machine listening to John Peel on the radio, that one day I’d end up living and working in China, I’d have dismissed it with a well-rehearsed scornful scowl and turned the volume up.

Funnier still is that 40 years later, I’m sat here in Shanghai hunched over my laptop and writing my first blog about it all.

So, where better to begin my very first post than at the start?

Art School’s Unexpected Turn

I left school at 16 for art school – or so I thought – to become a graphic artist. Why? My dad wasn’t having me end up in some dead-end job. Further education was happening like it or not, and after all, I liked drawing, didn’t I?

Art school in the mid-80’s wasn't just about studying; it was where subcultures thrived, and music wasn't just background noise – it defined who you were. For me, that meant spending hours altering clothes to get the looks I couldn't find in shops. By year two, we had to pick a specialisation to take us into higher education. For me, fashion was the only thing that made sense.

My first glimpse into apparel manufacturing came during my final year of fashion college, when a Berkshire-based factory – Mr. Harry of Woodleigh - agreed to produce my final collection: men's suits in pastel shades. The machinists smirked at my colour choices, but watching them bring my designs to life taught me a crucial lesson: design is one thing; production is something else entirely.

Welcome to the Rag Trade

I never saw myself as the next Gaultier and Galliano, high street fashion was always my reality. Fresh out of design school I dived headfirst into London’s rag trade.

No gentle introduction. One day I'm a graduate, the next I'm pattern cutting, dressing exhibition stands, taking orders from the big names on the high street, and discovering how clothes really got made in the East End workshops - cramped spaces where speed and cost ruled everything.

There were no intern schemes, no manuals. Just the relentless pressure. I became a jack-of-all-trades out of necessity, learning between missed deadlines and last-minute fixes. It was chaotic, but it forged an understanding that no classroom could provide - and it later defined my career.

Going International

As my career unfolded, I left design and the back streets of Hackney behind. As a product developer I discovered proper manufacturing facilities across Portugal, Italy, Romania, and Hong Kong (with some very memorable day trips across the border into Guangdong)

This was production on an entirely different scale: organised factories, specialised equipment, trained workforces. Quality could be controlled. Deadlines could actually be met.

Sourcing Asia

The 90s were the era of export quotas for Chinese apparel. And now as a retail buyer I found myself exploring alternative manufacturing hubs across Southeast Asia. Indonesia for socks, India for underwear, Thailand for polos, Malaysia for nightwear, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka for shirts.

I avoided supplier presentations in hotel lobbies. I wanted to walk the factory floors. These trips were never just transactional; they were about relationships, production methods, cost structures, and pricing intelligence—everything that strengthened my negotiating position.

It was also the dawn of ethical trading and social compliance. Watching a Dhaka shirt factory transform into a fully compliant operation was proof the industry’s priorities were starting to shift.

From Buying to Making

In 2002, I jumped from buying to manufacturing. I’d realised the real challenges—and opportunities—weren’t in choosing what to produce but in how to produce it.

China’s WTO entry removed trade barriers, and the resulting surge of exports cemented its place as the world’s number one apparel hub. As the industry’s shift to "Made in China" priced our Eastern European operations out of the market, I booked a flight to Shanghai, and within two years, we were fully committed.

Pioneering Spirit

Back then, managing production in China was a different world. No smartphones, no high-speed trains, no instant translations. The internet came through a dial-up modem (remember that screech?), downloads crawled, and every international call made you wince when the bill arrived.

Getting to suppliers meant hours in a cramped car; once you got there, you were on your own. English was rare, and misunderstandings were part of the itinerary and lunch was often best skipped.

It was hard and messy, but there was a raw thrill to it. Every trip felt like stepping into the unknown with nothing but instinct. And when you made it work—solved a problem, earned trust, landed the deal—it felt like striking gold.

Looking back now, with video calls, real-time translation, and bullet trains, it seems almost unthinkable how we managed. But those early years mattered—they forced you to adapt fast and trust yourself when nothing else was certain

You Gotta Be There

By 2008, I was living there full-time. Why? - because you can't properly manage manufacturing from an office halfway around the world.

Decisions aren’t made in conference rooms. They’re made between the machines. Problems get solved standing next to the production line, not in an email chain. Trust is built during late-night quality checks and eight-hour round trips to a factory in the middle of nowhere.

Being there meant catching issues before they became disasters. It meant suppliers knew we were serious because we showed up. If you’re not on the ground, you’re not really in the game.

Making it Happen

Looking back across four decades, one truth holds: clothes may be designed in studios, but they’re made in factories.

Manufacturing isn’t about ideas; it’s about execution. Not inspiration, but repetition. Not “what if,” but “how to.”

That’s where I’ve built my career—not admiring finished pieces, but perfecting the process that creates them. It’s also the foundation of Active Connections: years of practical experience, honed to solve the challenges I once faced alone.

So here I am, older, hopefully wiser, still in the game. Not for the glamour, but for the grind. Not for the final product, but for the challenge of making it happen. (And also, because I still haven’t figured out what else to do with my life.)

The People Who Shaped My Path

No career happens in isolation. Along the way, I’ve been lucky to cross paths with people who shaped not only my work but my outlook on life. From mentors who challenged me, to colleagues who shared their wisdom, and friends who kept me laughing—each played a part in my journey.

This blog is just as much about their influence as it is about my own experience. To those who believed, pushed, questioned, and inspired me: thank you.

Matt Jones - Neil Hendy - Jennie Hiett - Dave Cochrane - Alan Flux - Paul Healy - Robert Simon - Paul Eveleigh - Stephe Chong - Chris Horsefield - Jonathan Hart - John Kelley - Britta Blomgren - David Krantz - Roy Prescott - Kevin Parkin - Ewa Skinder - Paul Smith - Dave Rawsthorne - Joellah Crowther - Ian Monroe - John Owen - Joel Brown - Carol Ridgeway - Walter Wood - Nathan Helfgott - Frank Qi.