Rye

In June, I took the train down to London to go to my publisher’s Summer Party. It was the first of the 2026 official heatwaves, baking hot, and like any sensible stitcher, my thoughts turned to linen. 

For a long time I have been aware of the phenomenon which is Merchant and Mills. Their sewing patterns are just my sort of thing, and their fabrics are, well, even more my sort of thing. The bricks and mortar shop is in Rye, not far from the Sussex coast, and I seized the opportunity to pay the place a visit, making the best possible use of my Monday afternoon. 

Rye is an hour and a bit from central London, and the train from St. Pancras was stuffy and full, but entertainment was provided by a small boy who was keen to demonstrate the many fascinating features of his toy cars as we journeyed through the yellow-tinged countryside, and as a mother of sons, I knew how important all these things were so I listened carefully, and hopefully made the right noises. The trip was a month ago now, but the landscape I saw from the train windows was already starting to look pretty dry. 

The shop opens just after noon on weekdays, and I needed to be back in London no later than five, so I timed my trip with that in mind.

I had never visited before, but everything my friend Judith had told me was true. The shop is stacked with the most mouthwatering rolls of cloth. Bolts of linen and cotton from around the world are piled onto deep shelves, and it made me feel as though I was in a sort of old fashioned confectioners emporium, but with textiles rather than sugar. 

Merchant and Mills have cottoned (sorry) onto something very important though. They understand that buying good fabric is an investment activity, and there is nothing more frustrating than making a dress in beautiful cloth and finding that the neck doesn’t suit you, or the bodice is too baggy or too snug. To fix this potential problem, they have SAMPLES, and each of their patterns is made up in what I think is a bracketed section of sizes. 

Some in 10. 14, and 18 ( and more) and others in 8, 12, and 16. 

The samples are made up in different weights of linen and cotton, in checks and stripes and plains. It is absolutely genius.

I tried on the Florence, the Trapeze, the Camber (named, I assume after the Camber Sands beach which is not far away). The staff checked the fabric layouts for different fabric widths in their huge Lever Arch files, and they helped me to measure the lengths of each dress. I am 160cm tall, or five feet three in old money, and we figured out that on the Florence, for example, I could buy 2.5m of linen instead of 2.7m. It doesn’t sound like much of a difference, but it all adds up.

I was there for more than two hours, trying on different dresses in bracketed sizes, and attempting to choose from the enticing selection of fabrics. If you have seen Ella Bruccoleri playing Mary Bennet in The Other Bennet Sister, you may remember the scene where she goes to buy cloth for a dress and ends up with a deep crimson frock accented with Granny Smith green trim. Well, that was me. Not the pink, because it’s my least favourite colour, but I could definitely relate to the overwhelm and decision-making difficulties she portrayed so well.

I travelled back to London with sufficient fabric for four dresses which is enough to last me until next year, and two remnants, one of which is pictured above. This one is linen, and I have 1.3m of 150cm wide fabric. Not enough for a Florence, but with some careful cutting out, maybe a shirt or even some trousers. 

On my way home on the train the next day, I tried to work out if I could do a visit to Merchant and Mills as a day trip from Edinburgh, because I’ll definitely be paying another visit to Rye. Even if it means leaving home at four in the morning and getting back at midnight, I really think my potential hotel budget could be much better spent on fabric and patterns.