a stansborough experience

The name Stansborough is familiar to “Lord of the Rings” fans as being the company responsible for producing woolen costumes for the trilogy – most notably, the Elven cloaks. Josephine’s cloak had come from the Stansborough showroom three years earlier, and she was excited to “take it home.”

“It won’t exactly be ‘home,’” Vic warned her, explaining that, thanks to the attention gained through their work on “The Lord of the Rings” and “The Chronicles of Narnia,” Stansborough expanded. The small shop we had visited last time was recently replaced with a larger, more tourist-friendly facility called Experience Stansborough. This, however, was but a minor detail to Josephine.

“As long as Cheryl and Barry are still there, it will still be ‘home’ for my cloak,” she said. She was referring to owners Cheryl and Barry Eldridge, who not only run the facility we’d be visiting, but also own the rural farm where Stansborough’s unique grey wool comes from a flock of carefully-bred Gotland Pelt sheep.

Located in the suburb of Petone (pronounce “peh-tone-ee,” not “pet-one” like Lisa admitted to thinking at first), Experience Stansborough took roughly half an hour to reach via the Wellington Urban Motorway, which snakes along Wellington’s inner coast and eventually joins up with Hutt Road, or State Highway 2.

When we arrived at Experience Stansborough, those of us who had visited the old location let out various exclamations of surprise at the large, melon-colored building before us.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Raewyn asked as we clambered out of the van. “Just wait until we get inside.”

We were met in the entryway by Cheryl, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile and a determined air about her. She sat us down on plush ottomans and couches upholstered in some of Stansborough’s unique fabric, and told us the “Stansborough story.”

More than twelve years ago, Cheryl and Barry Eldridge purchased Stansborough Farm in the Wairarapa Region, roughly two hours north of Wellington. They spent the next ten years breeding the Stansborough Greys, a flock of grey sheep with especially soft and lustrous wool that is now the only one of its kind in the world. And if the selective breeding of the flock weren’t impressive enough, Cheryl and Barry also shear their own sheep and alpacas, hand-spin the wool into fine thread, and weave yards and yards of their intricately-designed textiles on two massive nineteenth-century looms. The looms are housed in the Stansborough Weaving Mill, which is attached to the building we were sitting in, hence adding to the “interactive time warp” element of Experience Stansborough.

“But I suppose I should tell you how we got involved in ‘The Lord of the Rings,’ shouldn’t I, since that’s why you’re here?” Cheryl asked. She went on to tell us how Ngila Dickson, the costume designer for the trilogy, discovered samples of Stansborough fabric in New York City, before filming for the trilogy began.

“It’s ironic,” Cheryl said. “Our fabric had to go thousands and thousands of miles away to be discovered by someone right down the road.”

After successfully designing for Peter Jackson’s trilogy, Stansborough went on to work on fabric for the “Narnia” films. They have since worked on quite a few film productions, and Cheryl said those contracts are what’s keeping Stansborough afloat.

“And,” she said, a glint in her eye, “I probably shouldn’t be sharing this with you, but we recently got a call about designing a cloak for Gandalf in ‘The Hobbit.’”

“How exciting!” Raewyn exclaimed from one of the ottomans. “Maybe that’s the next cloak you’ll all have to buy,” she said to all of us.

“Oh, I think I’m going to be buying at least a couple later today,” Echo said, running her hand over the couch that was covered in “Narnia” fabric.

After Cheryl finished talking, it was time for the “Experience” portion of the tour. It began with going “through the wardrobe,” just like the characters in the “Narnia” films do. Cheryl pulled back a curtain to reveal a faux-wardrobe door, complete with fur coats, a lamppost, and falling snow on the other side. It was an unexpected, yet charming, introduction to the tour. Next came a brief DVD on Stansborough Farm, followed by the “time warp.”

For this, we were led into an adjacent room, where a spinning machine and the two large, rickety-looking wooden looms stood, waiting. The looms weave their own sort of history. Dating from roughly 1890, they are some of the first mechanical looms designed. Only four of this particular type of loom remain in the Australasia region, and two of them belong to Cheryl and Barry, who have learned the intricacies of using them over the years.

Here, Barry, dressed like a 1800s factory foreman, joined us. In a somewhat theatrical fashion, he showed us how the looms work. Before weaving can begin, each loom must be hand-threaded, thread by thread. This process in itself can take up to two days, Barry said. He explained how specific Stansborough patterns – like the Elven cloak one – are made. It includes a contraption that slightly resembles chain links, with individual links missing here and there. The missing links represent the weave pattern. The links are then fed through the machine, which “reads” the pattern.

“If you think about it, it’s the earliest form of a computer,” Barry said.

I was still thinking about threading the wool, strand by strand. It sort of made my head hurt. But not as much as when Barry turned on the loom. The looms are mechanical, and fill the whole room with clacking and banging as the wooden shuttles fly, lightening-fast, from one end of the loom to the other. Josephine and Echo covered their ears.

“Understand now why those young girls in factories lost their hearing so young?” Barry yelled over the racket. After a few minutes, he switched the loom off again, and invited us to look around – but not to touch. “Plenty of people have lost fingers and arms in these things,” he said, indicating the loom.

Our last stop at Experience Stansborough was the Gallery. The Gallery showcases the finished products Stansborough produces, from cloaks to hats to baby booties. For us, it should have just been called the gift shop. Nearly everyone bought something small – a pair of gloves, a soft scarf, a baby blanket for a friend. But a few tour members decided to pull out all the stops. Charlotte and Echo both doled out $700 for Elven cloaks, and Echo added two “Narnia” cloaks and roughly six scarves to her bill.

“I knew this would happen,” she said as she relinquished her credit card to Cheryl. “But I think I deserve to spoil myself this one time.”

“Not spoiling,” Josephine, still wearing her own Elven cloak, told Echo. “You’re cherishing yourself.”

“Now that’s a great way of thinking about it,” Susi, hiding beneath a floppy wool hat, said. “I think I’m going to cherish myself, too, with this hat.”

The cherishing carried us well past lunchtime, and it was with some reluctance that Echo finally turned her back on the Gallery.

“About time,” Anthony said, winking playfully at Echo. He and Dulce had been ready to go an hour earlier.

“Not my fault you two bought your cloaks last time you were here,” she countered. “It’s my first time; gimme a break.”