A graphic new weave, brought to life on a rare loom, with a yarn that took us somewhere unexpected…

A Yarn with a Different Ending

In early 2022, we sourced a batch of wool and mohair yarn from Stucken, the renowned South African spinners based in Uitenhage. The goal? A new Mungo blanket. Something warm, weighty and soft, that could be cherished for years to come. But as we began weaving test runs, something wasn’t quite right. The yarn’s micron count – the measurement of fibre fineness – gave the cloth more structure and texture than softness. Beautiful, yes. But not quite right for the kind of blanket we had envisioned.

But one of the perks of having our own mill, and our full operation (from design through to finished product) under one roof, means that we have room to reimagine and reiterate…

So our design team went back to the drawing board, and looked for a new application. We considered the yarn’s qualities – handle, weight, texture – and began to reimagine it as a cushion cover. What emerged was the Pixel Cushion: bold, graphic, and dimensional.

With just a limited run fresh off our looms, this is a special once-off weave that will briefly join our current cushion cover range. But the good news is that this isn’t the end of our wool story. We’ll continue to refine and develop our approach to weaving with animal fibres – so a wool and mohair blanket is still on the horizon…

On the loom – the Pixel Cushion Covers.

The Weave: Overshot, Reimagined

The Pixel Cushion design uses a traditional overshot weave – a structure that pairs a plain (tabby) weave with floating weft threads to create a patterned, raised surface. Originally popular in the 18th and 19th centuries for bedspreads in America and England, it’s been reinterpreted here for a bold, modern cloth, full of depth and dimension.

“By enlarging the block design, using some vibrant colours, and incorporating yarns with varying textures, we were able to create this graphic, textural effect – something that feels quite contemporary. The final cloth is full of dimensional blocks, contrasts and shadows. At the same time, there’s this very traditional weave structure. So it becomes a fabric that’s both modern and rooted in tradition. This old-meets-new design approach is very true to Mungo and how we work – drawing on contemporary palettes, aesthetics and influences, while using traditional weaving techniques and technologies (like our antique shuttle looms) to create something that’s both modern and timeless.”

– Lenore, Mungo designer

The Challenges of the Saurer Loom

The Pixel Cushions were woven on a particularly special machine: our mid-century Saurer shuttle loom, donated to us by renowned South African mohair weaver, Jan Paul Barnard. Thought to date back to the 1960s, the Saurer was once the height of weaving technology. It bridges a key gap in our collection at the Mungo Mill – sitting between our 100+ year-old Hattersley domestic loom and the modern Dornier rapier machines crafted by the post-WWII aircraft company of the same name. This loom’s inclusion completes our story: a working display of weaving evolution, from hand looms to industrial-era innovation. And it’s one you can witness in person – our open mill in Plettenberg Bay invites you to see the full process, from first threads to finished cloth.

While the Saurer has its charms, it’s not without quirks – particularly when it comes to patterning. To create the Pixel Cushion weave, our design team worked with an old-school pattern card system. Unlike modern Jacquard or electronic looms, the Saurer reads punched cards, fed in by hand. Each hole determines which threads lift or stay down, guiding the formation of the weave. Complicating things? The cards had to be punched in reverse order. A painstaking process, requiring close collaboration and a good deal of patience.

“This was our first experiment with patterning on the Saurer. We had only woven plain weaves on it before. But we were excited to push the loom further. It took quite a lot of figuring out and reiterations, but I think the end result is something quite special.”

The Pixel Cushions

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We went to Italy to visit Linificio, our linen yarn spinners, on their 150th anniversary – a chance to witness masters at work, spinning flax the old way.

Linen is a fibre that refuses to be rushed. Spun from flax, it needs just the right blend of conditions to grow: mild weather, long sunlight, gentle rain. Too much of one, too little of another and the crop changes. Every harvest is slightly different. Imperfectly perfect.

Spinning these fibres takes extraordinary skill, a balance of patience and precision. Few still do it the traditional way, and seeing it in action was a reminder of the care, craft, and people behind every thread.

In a world that prizes speed, linen asks for time. And it reveals its charm slowly – in its texture that gets better with age, its subtle imperfections, and the quiet beauty of something age-old and carefully made.

Watch the video

View our Linen Products

It’s three o’clock on a warm afternoon. We’re seated in a coffee shop in central Paarl, moving from outside under the trees to a quiet corner. Light cracks through the window, illuminating the sage green wallpaper, patterned with storybook-style birds and creeping vines. There are hanging plants, an eclectic mix of artworks, and pastel-toned ceramics – very on-brand for the guest.

I’m sitting down with artist Lené Ehlers. Over the course of two hours, we’ll talk about art and process – and a creative approach to life. About trusting your intuition, and following the path that feels most aligned.

Although we’re tucked into this cosy nook, beside a doorway where visitors come and go (one of whom is Lené’s mom), I imagine her back in her studio: a familiar pair of overalls, flecked with paint.

“There’s a pair of pants I always wear, and a T-shirt with paint spots – I have to wear that uniform, because the paint gets everywhere.”

The image adds to the idyll: life and work flowing interchangeably. The artist part of the process; blending into her work. Leaving touches of herself – like a signature. The hopeless – or in this case, hopeful – romantic embedded into every stroke.

I wonder about the interplay of living and working – the degree of separation (if any) required for the creative. Particularly for someone who lives in a home-meets-studio.

“Aren’t you tempted to just roll out of bed, pick up a brush, and do another stroke?” I ask.

“I used to be like that. But the thing with painting is that you need the right light. I’ve tried candlelight, but natural light is best – so I don’t have that temptation to work through the night.”

Looking at Lené’s pieces, there is considerable romance. The palettes are soft and calming. The overall effect is dreamy and sensory.

We talk about her chosen subject matter, and the feeling it evokes. The drawing of inspiration from something visually pleasing – and how this itself is a kind of fresh, radical concept. How the pursuit of the pleasurable, of beauty, might stand against modern art as we know it: pieces viewed with a sense of detachment or disillusionment. Works in white-walled spaces that require a certain kind of cerebral engagement.

Emotive. Sensory. Pleasing in palette and subject. Lené’s floral-driven works create a sense of softness and comfort. These are pieces to be lived with and enjoyed – not just observed.

“In traditional gallery spaces, I often feel like it’s a cold atmosphere to interact with art. Some people feel like they need to engage with a piece in a particular way. But in a warm space, you’re more comfortable. You can experience it in your own way.”

In 2022, Lené found a fitting ‘cosy’ home for her work after meeting Michael Chandler of Chandler House.

“Chandler House has this homey feel. I could immediately see my paintings living in that kind of space. Michael collects antique interiors – couches, kilims, ceramics – so it creates a picture. It’s immersive, and that suits the work.”

That show marked a turning point – both aesthetically and emotionally. It affirmed the path she was on, and helped define the distinctive style of her current work: painterly florals, thick with texture, laced with textile influences.

“At that first exhibition, Michael introduced me to a woman who imports Suzanis – traditional textiles from Uzbekistan. These have become a major inspiration in my work. He could see I had a pattern-driven aesthetic, but needed a little something more. From that show, I actually bought my first Suzani – so it’s a sentimental piece too.”

While Lené’s medium today is oil on canvas, her roots lie in floristry.

“While I was studying in Stellenbosch, I worked at a florist on weekends. When I graduated, I started doing flowers full time – working at different companies for around five years. Then I slowly began illustrating on the side, just for myself. That led to an exhibition in a gallery I’d admired. And it just built from there. Eventually, I started experimenting with paint, and now I’m doing full-on oils.”

Her earlier pieces, done in acrylic ink on paper, were more experimental – hints of florals embedded within patterns. Now, she’s arrived at something more grounded: flowers centre stage, with subtle echoes of pattern and textile below.

Lené’s current oil works are rich in texture – thick, expressive, and slow to dry. Sometimes a single piece can take up to three months to complete. And the process is tactile. Instinctual. Driven by feeling.

“I don’t overthink it. I start by going to the flower market and picking colours that speak to me. Then I arrange them in a vase, choose a cloth, and begin painting. I get a lot of joy from curating the still life before I even touch the brush.”

But how does it begin?

“I have synesthesia – when I feel something, I see a colour. So the palette very much comes from a certain state of mind.”

The work unfolds intuitively – following the flow of a line, or called to a colour, by instinct. It’s an approach to process, but also a kind of ordering principle to life. A way of being in flow. Living a life defined by your own terms. Engrossed by the work, and letting what feels right lead.

And for those wanting to be led by that freedom of feeling; by the freedom to lead a creative life – what is her advice?

“Start small. But take aligned steps. People ask me: should I get a gallery? Should I go it alone? I can’t answer that. That’s between you and your journey. You have to do what feels right for you. There are no right or wrongs.”

Before we part, I ask Lené about her dream exhibition space. I half expect her to say a sunlit gallery in Paris, or the splendour of the Tate or the Louvre. But her answer is simpler. More grounded. Entirely in keeping with everything she’s said.

“I see my artworks in cosy heritage homes. A warm place with wooden floors. Above a mantelpiece. That would make me very happy – to know that my paintings were in a happy home.”

Words by Georgina Selander

Photography by JD Allin

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A kikoi is more than just a cloth. Worn, wrapped, or draped, or spread, it’s a versatile garment that makes the ultimate travel companion or trans seasonal wardrobe staple.

The beauty of the kikoi lies in its multi-functionality. Whether used as a sarong, scarf, lightweight throw, beach wrap or baby sling, it’s a staple for travel and everyday life. With a durable weave that makes it a cherished companion for years to come.

Breezy and beach-bag ready, the simple (but mighty) kikoi carries with it the spirit of a sun-soaked coastline, or unhurried days on holiday.

The Story Behind the Kikoi

The kikoi, a rectangular piece of woven cloth, holds a rich history rooted in East Africa, particularly along the Swahili coast. Originally introduced by Arab traders centuries ago, the kikoi quickly evolved into a cultural icon, loved for both its vibrant patterns and practical use. Traditionally used as sarongs, kikois also serve a variety of purposes, including shawls, scarves, head wraps or throws.

Kikois, a versatile travel companion

Lightweight and quick-drying, the kikoi is a versatile companion for days on the go, and summer holiday adventuring – easily stashed in your beach tote or hiking backpack, transitioning from a quick-drying beach towel to a scarf or wrap when the sun dips. Sprawl it out over grass as a picnic blanket, wrap up your souvenirs in your travel case, or convert it into a baby sling if you’ve got a little one in tow.

It’s the year-round, well-loved companion for any adventure – one that makes the ultimate gift for any friend or family member.

GOTS-Certified Organic Cotton

The Organic Ruti Kikoi is woven from GOTS-certified organic cotton. The Global Organic Textile Standard (GOTS) is a globally recognised certification that ensures that the cotton is grown without synthetic pesticides or fertilisers – safeguarding soil health, water quality, and biodiversity. It also upholds ethical labour standards, ensuring fair treatment of farmers and workers throughout the supply chain.

This naturally cultivated cotton results in a fabric that’s gentle on the skin, soft to the touch and breathable for year-round use.

Woven on Traditional Shuttle Looms

Our Organic Ruti Kikois are woven at our mill in Plettenberg Bay on our mid-century Ruti looms. 

One of the distinguishing features of the Ruti loom is its shuttle – a wooden bobbin inside which rests the yarn-carrying pirn. The shuttle, which flies back and forth across the warp (or vertical threads), has the unique ability to produce a true selvedge. This tightly woven, self-finished edge, which runs the length of the woven cloth, requires no extra hemming, and is a hallmark of traditional shuttle loom weaving. You’ll find the selvedge on our Lancashire loom products – our Summer Towels, and baby blankets – as well as our Linen Scarves. Look out for it as a sign of artisanal, small-batch textile weaving.

Traditional Weaving, Timeless Design

Our Ruti looms form a key piece in our story of textile making through the ages (at the Mungo Mill you’ll find a display of weaving techniques and technology right back from prehistoric times to present day). 

Our Rutis, thought to date around 1960, are semi-automatic pirn-change looms. These looms, at one time the height of weaving technology, stop when the shuttle runs out of thread. This intelligent feature revolutionise the industry, improving efficiency, and allowing a single weaver to operate multiple looms at once. 

At our mill, you’ll find two Rutis in operation. Pay a visit and see them in action – our mill doors are always open for visitors.

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For those who’ve visited our Cape Town store at 78 Hout Street, you may already be familiar with the sight and sound of our antique Hattersley loom. Affectionately nicknamed ‘Hattie’, this cherished 130-year-old shuttle loom faithfully wove runs of Cook’s Cloths for several years. Her distinctive clattering sound, produced by the shuttle – the yarn-carrying bobbin that flies back and forth across the warp, weaving the weft (or left-to-right threads) – often drew curious visitors to our shop doors.

A few years ago, as the Mungo Mill entered its next chapter, we made the decision to return Hattie to our headquarters in Plettenberg Bay. Here, she can be tended to by those who know how to keep her running and join our full collection of looms. Today, she stands proudly at the front of the mill, serving as a historic jewel in our collection of weaving techniques and technology through the ages – from prehistoric times to the present day. For those who’ve yet to visit our mill, our doors are always open. Here, you can connect product to the process and witness how the first threads become finished cloth.

Hattie has tried on a few new hats since her early days, including weaving a limited edition run of silk, mohair, and bamboo scarves – a creative collaboration between our design intern, Neta, and resident designer, Lenore. Most recently, she’s returned to weaving Cook’s Cloths. An original Mungo design, first brought to life by our Master Weaver, Stu Holding, it has now been reimagined by Ray and Lenore from our design team.

So, what is a Cook’s Cloth, you ask? It’s a versatile kitchen cloth meets apron – designed to seamlessly transition between tasks. Woven with a cotton warp and a cotton-linen blend weft, the Cook’s Cloth is both durable and absorbent, perfect for cleaning, drying, and mopping up spills like a traditional dishcloth. But with the addition of a waist tie, it transforms easily into an apron. And for those who like a bit of coverage while eating, the buttonhole allows it to be secured neatly over your shirt button.

Each Cook’s Cloth features a traditional true selvedge – a tightly woven, non-fraying edge that requires no additional hemming and is unique to shuttle loom weaving. With its contemporary palette and timeless herringbone weave, the Cook’s Cloth makes the perfect gift for anyone who knows their way around a kitchen (or a braai).

Watch the video

A lot has changed since this video was made. Hattie now resides in the Mungo Mill in Plettenberg Bay and continues to rhythmically weave life into contemporary textiles.

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Rehoming Hattie | The Story of the Hattie Wrap

“Come at 4am. There’ll be loud music playing and the coffee machine will be on.”

Say no more.

There’s a sweet serendipity to be invited in behind the scenes – when someone opens the private doors to their passion. And more so when those doors open with the scent of butter and bread.

It’s the early hours in Yzerfontein – it’s the West Coast, and the sun won’t rise until close to 8am. The streets are quiet, the air smells salty, blowing off the cold Atlantic water. There’s a soft drizzle of rain.

You park in the parking lot. Close to the midnight hours, the streets are blue-black. But there’s a light shining through the glass doors at Rosemead Artisan Bakery. Inside, a man is moving back and forth between the floured countertops. Behind him are big – very big – ovens. You watch a while before you go inside. The scene is romantic. Idyllic. Like the opening credits to a movie. Anything seems possible.

It’s quiet now. But in a few hours there will be people quickly setting foot inside – the barefoot surfer and his dog, the genteel older couple with their newspaper, the young bohemians who are glad to be out of Cape Town. Some will even arrive before opening time, hoping for an early coffee. If it were December, then the line would be long – an unending stream for three to four hours. So you’re lucky you’ve paid a visit on a Thursday in March. Over the course of the morning (four hours pass by in an instant) you’ll watch these comers-and-goers. All of them Brett will greet. He seems to be on a first-name basis with most. You’ll also meet his brother, his mother-in-law (who makes the rusks), and even his wife and children – who live five minutes up the road.

When you go inside, the musical score is fitting: Don Henley’s Boys of Summer. An exceptionally apt theme tune for a bakery with a distinctly laid-back feel. But don’t let the vibe deceive you – there is a serious approach to quality here. This may, or may not (you’ll have to find out for yourself), be the best bread you ever try. And you won’t be the first to think so – in fact, 893 people have vouched for it on Google reviews. The most recent of which proclaims:

“This is the best bakery in [the] Cape Province. If you walk in you are part of an experience. The smell, the look and the people… If I [were to] live in Yzterfontein, this bakery will lead to my end, they will have to put their bread in my coffin one day. I challenge you to prove me wrong.”

I ask Brett about this. His response is humble. It’s clear that whatever is happening here – the subtle magic – has happened organically. They don’t have a website. Their Instagram page is refreshingly uncurated. Their Facebook page was hacked a few years ago and never revived (much to Brett’s satisfaction). And if you look around the bakery, you’ll find no sign at the till begging you to leave a review. You aren’t being coaxed into a positive feeling. That becomes all the more part of the growing excitement. Social media might have made things so agonisingly accessible that barely anything seems like a hidden gem. The untapped, untouched spaces of the planet have been overrun by the uninfluential influencer. But here you are, feeling like you’re privy to something sacred.

So what is it? Why do people keep coming back? Why can’t you get your hands on a baguette in December? Well, it’s that ‘thing’ of course – the timeless basics: good. Simple. Delicious. No frills, no fuss – no lipstick on a pig. It’s an ‘if you know, you know’ type of situation.

The idea is to stick to the classics and do them incredibly well, with the best quality ingredients. “We have three kids, and we want everyone to be nourished – not just fed,” says Brett.

The atmosphere at Rosemead Artisan Bakery encapsulates a sense of the unhurried, unpretentious surfer town – the Muizenberg, perhaps, of 10 years ago, before gentrification became an actualised buzzword. It’s honest and easy-going and not dolled up for show. And it makes sense – in a way, owner and Head Baker Brett Nortier has recreated a sense of his upbringing in the ‘Deep South’, where he cut his culinary teeth by learning the basics at his aunt’s bakery in Kalk Bay.

“In my mid-teens, my aunt returned from a small French village where she’d been learning to bake. She opened a bakery in a double garage on Rosmead Road, an old cobbled street in Kalk Bay. For pocket money, my brother and I helped out – making cheese sticks, coffee, whatever was needed. The bakery was just across from a great wave, so we’d come in early, bake, go for a surf, and help out again after. It was a cool way to grow up – walking down in the mornings, watching the sunrise over the sea. My aunt would be on the wall, waving her arms to call us in: ‘We’re busy! Come and help.’ Back then we didn’t have phones. From Grade 6, we’d be surfing in Kommetjie or Kalk Bay, just leaving notes on the fridge with a whiteboard marker: ‘In Noordhoek. See you at 8.’”

After school, Brett went to culinary school, where he met his wife, Anli. “We were both doing fine-dining internships – I was at the Greenhouse, then rated the top restaurant in the country, and she was at Terroir. After that, we helped out at my aunt’s bakery again before moving to Stellenbosch, where we spent five years at a great bakery – I probably learned the most there. But we wanted to be near the sea and always dreamed of starting something of our own. Ten years ago, we visited for a weekend, and someone mentioned a spot we could rent – a padstal on the R27. We checked it out and said, ‘Let’s do it.’ We took out a loan and launched with just the two of us – she did pastry, I did bread. I handled deliveries, she did the invoicing. We were washing dishes, doing everything ourselves. Some nights we only slept two or three hours, then started again the next day. Slowly we added help, and eventually moved here – we’ve been in this building for seven years now. This was the original Yzerfontein shop – it had the old-school Coca-Cola sign and everything.”

The approach at Rosemead runs through every aspect – local, artisanal, well-crafted. From the traceable supply chain (all the suppliers are written on a blackboard), who form a network of mindful, quality-focused makers that supply their flour, their coffee, their eggs, and their meat, through to the wares.

“What I started realising is the more these kinds of like-minded businesses can support each other, the better – consciously buying something from the smaller guy. We’ve got a lady up the road who supplies us with eggs – gosh, those chickens have a good life! And our coffee cup sets – they’re handmade by a friend of ours who’s a potter. Each one is a little different and yes, they cost a bit more, but they’re super special.”

What’s to be loved is also the process in action. You can see it all happening – the loaves go in, they come out. The timers tick and the mixers churn in plain sight. And periodically, the smells keep changing: first, the nutty scent of the first loaves. A wash of butter as the croissants come out. A wave of sweetness, like a cloud, when the pasteis de nata emerge. No wonder you don’t want to leave.

And the man behind it all is baking. Baking, sharing a joke with the staff, and enjoying a toasted sandwich by the window – where he waves off a mom and her son, who each carry off a loaf of sourdough, carefully wrapped in tissue paper like the beautiful bounty that they are. “People are surprised to see the owner working behind the scenes,” says Brett.

The quality is consistent – that’s a non-negotiable. But, like all things artisanal, you’ll find subtle variations. And perhaps this in itself is reason enough to keep coming back – to see how the flavour of their sought-after sourdough subtly shifts with the seasons.

“People ask, ‘Is your bread as good as this person’s bread?’ I’d say you’d have to eat our bread 10 days in a row – winter, spring, summer, autumn – and then do that at every other bakery. Because every loaf is not going to be perfect every day. The temperature is different every day, the flour is different every day. Also, we all have different opinions – I like it to be really dark, and the crust to be a bit too thick. My wife prefers it a bit lighter and crispy. So what’s perfect for me and perfect for you is completely different. And I think that’s what makes it so unique – that we have customers coming in and saying they want the slightly darker one.”

As the world becomes increasingly overrun by AI – spreading its bland canvas in the pursuit of singularity, perfection, uniformity – these qualities are surely going to become increasingly desirable: the hand of the maker, the imperfectly perfect. And so too will the spaces like Rosemead Artisan Bakery, where you’ll find community. Connection. And good conversation.

“We’re here to make people happy. People must feel relieved when they come here.”

It’s easy to believe.

“We’ve got ten minutes to kill. Would you like a croissant and a coffee?”

It’s an easy yes. And soon, a thing of beauty is placed in front of you – burnished and buttery, still warm from the oven.

“Nothing better than that right?”

Featured Products

Words by Georgina Selander
Images by JDee Allin

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In December 2024, 631 swimmers took to the waters in Cape Town and the Garden Route for the 4th annual Mungo Swim Club. With 8 clubs in Glencairn, Camps Bay, Hout Bay, Greyton, Plettenberg Bay, Buffelsbaai, Nature’s Valley and Knysna, we collectively raised over R170,000, which was donated to I AM WATER Foundation, Nature’s Valley Trust and Cultural Connections, supporting ocean conservation and community upliftment.

To all who took part, well done on taking up the challenge. You were, like us, perhaps driven by the collective feeling that an early morning dip does wonders for the soul, and by the spirit of impacting meaningful change in your respective communities. Or perhaps by the keen sense that you never regret a swim…

We hope you feel revived. And that your custom Mungo towels remind you fondly of your swims. Here’s to Swim Club 2025.

Here’s What You Had to Say About It…

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There’s something about the scent of warm, buttery biscuits wafting from the oven that makes a house feel like home. Whether it’s a weekend baking session or a festive holiday tradition, the kitchen is a space to come together – where memories (and messes) are made.

These no-fail sugar biscuits are quick and easy to bake – the recipe calls for just 4 ingredients, and yields a delicious, buttery cookie, perfect for gifting to friends over the festive season, or for making magic moments with your favorite sous chef.

Simple Sugar Biscuits (Soetkoekies)

Makes 20-24 biscuits

Ingredients

• • • 300g plain/all-purpose flour
    • 250g salted butter, softened
    • 90g icing sugar
    • 1 tsp vanilla extract (optional)

Instructions

1. 1. Preheat your oven to 160°C (320°F).
   2. Grease and line a pan with baking paper.
   3. In a large mixing bowl, cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy.
   4. Add the vanilla extract (if using), then gradually mix in the flour until the dough comes together. Use your hands to bring the mixture together into a smooth ball, kneading lightly as required.
   5. Roll out the dough on a floured surface to about 1 cm thickness. Use cookie cutters or the rim of a glass to shape the dough into designs.
   6. Bake for 15–20 minutes, or until lightly golden.
   7. Remove from the oven and transfer the biscuits onto an oven rack to allow them to cool completely before serving. Decorate with icing or sprinkles if you’re feeling creative.

Tip: Sweet cookies keep well in an airtight container for up to a week, so bake a batch to share or enjoy whenever the mood strikes.

Kitt and Lilah wear the Alles Apron in Paloma and Iris. Kids apron sizes are available on www.mungo.co.za.

Looking for an apron for the dad, braai master, or a female who can handle the flames? Check out the Grill Apron.

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Christmas gift ideas got you stumped?
Don’t get your tinsel in a tangle.

We’ve got you covered with the ultimate Christmas gift guide –
gifts for him, for her, for Mum, for Dad, or even that quirky uncle nobody quite likes…
Explore the best Christmas gifts for everyone on your list below.

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The Savannah Blanket marks a new milestone for Mungo—a first-of-its-kind multi-texture blanket that blends varying weave constructions into a striking patchwork of pattern and texture. We spoke to our designer, Lenore, about the prototyping, process and palette behind this innovative new creation.

Where did the idea for the Savannah Blanket come from?

The concept for the Savannah Blanket started a while ago, with the idea to create a blanket with multiple weave constructions. We wanted to achieve that in a way that gave texture and dimension, and that added a soft feel. 

Initially, we were limited by our old looms because they didn’t have enough shafts – the frames that lift and lower groups of warp threads to allow the weft to go through. The number of shafts determines the complexity of the patterns, and the more shafts, the greater the design possibilities.

The idea really came together with the arrival of our newest looms in mind. In June we received four state-of-the-art Dornier looms, custom-built for us in Lindau, Germany. 

Talk us through the early design phase.

I started sampling on our Saurer loom, which has 16 shafts, and so allows for a bit more design flexibility than our 12-shaft Dornier machines. The early tests didn’t come out right, and it took quite a lot of iterating.

What kinds of issues did you need to overcome?

It was quite a process, because each pattern has its own characteristics, and there’s a major difference between the woven cloth that comes off the loom (we call this ‘loomstate’), and once it comes back from a first wash. After washing, the textile shrinks – bulking up and changing its shape. Because of the different textures, some sections shrunk and others didn’t, creating alternating areas of cockled and smooth cloth. We had to find a way to get one pattern to flow into the next.

The Savannah Blanket also uses a cotton and linen ‘slub yarn’, where the thickness varies. This adds to the blanket’s texture, but also needed to be taken into consideration.

How do the new Dornier machines open up creative possibilities?

We’ve always had to be more experimental with our designs because our older looms have limited capabilities. Pattern and play needs to come through weave constructions and stripe designs. For me, that’s always been the most exciting part – working within those limitations and pushing your creativity. 

Our new Dornier looms have 24 shafts, which doubles our creative possibilities. They also allow us to directly transfer the designs onto the looms, whereas with our older machines we hand-punch the pattern cards. This can be a very time-consuming process; in the early sampling of the Savannah Blanket, it took two days to punch the card for the Saurer loom. So these new machines streamline our processing significantly. Changes can be made immediately, and so there’s a lot of more flexibility and efficiency.

What inspired the palette of the Savannah Blanket?

If you go to the Drakensberg in the dry season, there are those yellows and browns and dry grasses. The Grasslands colourways speaks of that. And then its antithesis, the rainy season – that’s Monsoon. So it’s sort of that blend of rocks and sand that you might see whilst hiking; an imitation of nature and its textures. 

What are your thoughts on the overall effect?

This was a new concept for us – making a blanket with multiple textures, as usually our textiles only have a single weave. The effect is quite beautiful and vivid, like an artwork. I think it’s really exciting. It’s exciting to see how we can move our designs into a whole new dimension. New looms, new design possibilities… Watch this space.

More from our blog:

From Yorkshire to South Africa with Stuart Holding | Barefoot Luxury | The Story of the Double Cloth

Rich in pattern and texture, the Whalebone Throw adds bold accent to your interior styling – making it as much of a decorative piece as a functional one.

A versatile, companion for all seasons. 

Woven with 100% cotton, the Whalebone Throw is more than just a blanket—it’s an all-season essential. Soft to the touch, lightweight yet cosy, this throw offers the perfect balance of comfort and practicality. Whether you’re layering it on cooler nights or adding extra warmth in the winter, its breathable design makes it the ideal companion year-round.

Striking in pattern and rich in texture, it effortlessly doubles as a statement piece, adding bold accents to your living space. Easy to care for, The Whalebone Throw will maintain its softness and colour brilliance over time, offering luxurious comfort for everyday use.

A Fresh Take on A Classic

Every design has a story, and the Whalebone Throw is no exception. “The Bakuba Throw has been a staple in our collection for years,” explains designer Ray Cele. It has that soft, breathable handle of pure cotton, with a really beautiful zig-zag design. With the Whalebone, we wanted to take that classic feel and give it a contemporary twist.”

Inspired by the idea of creating something bold yet refined, our design team set out to craft a throw that felt both timeless and fresh. “We played with textures and patterns to bring a more modern aesthetic into the fold, without losing the familiar softness and quality that people love about our throws.”

It’s All in the Details

It’s the small details that make the Whalebone Throw truly stand out. The multi-directional weave, featuring an intricate combination of twill and plain weave patterns, creates a striking visual effect. “The design almost has a 3D appearance,” Cele explains. “The recurring diamond motif is enhanced by raised ribs, adding dimension and texture. What you get is this very visual, undulating pattern. When you look at it up close you can really see all the little intricate details.”

First Tests to Finished Cloth

“After the first prototypes came out, it was clear that something was missing – it needed a finished touch. So we started experimenting with borders, adjusting the draft—essentially how the pattern is set up on the loom.”

What followed was a series of tests, tweaking the weave structure to strike the perfect balance between design, softness, and durability. “It took time to get it just right, but the final product is something quite special.”

Now available in Copper, Palm, Taupe, and Papaya. Shop online or in our stores across Cape Town, Joburg, Stellenbosch and Plettenberg Bay.

More from our blog:

In Studio with Amy Ayanda | Nothing Lasts Forever and why it Shouldn’t | The Making of the Savannah Blanket

The Story Behind the Grill Apron

 One summer holiday, a long time ago, a lively household was embroiled in a classic family debate. The source of contention? The indiscriminate use of a kitchen cloth.
Some were of the opinion that a single cloth could handle everything – from holding greasy tongs and wiping off oily fingers, to mopping up spills or scattered coffee grounds.
However, others held a differing view.

So there was only one way to settle it. A new cloth would emerge, designed to meet every need.
A cloth that could rival all others in its utility – navigating the chaos of the kitchen or the barbecue with its versatility (and good looks).

Enter, the Grill Apron.

The Grill Apron is designed to meet all your kitchen or fireside culinary needs. A cloth that will allow you to grill with gusto or cook with abandon.
It’s the kind of companion that every passionate pit master needs. Or for anyone who wants to dress to impress in the kitchen.

No need for that dismally dirty, shoulder-slung dishcloth
when you’ve got a Grill Apron at your side.

Who needs the Grill Apron?

The versatility of the Grill Apron makes it the perfect gift for almost anyone who knows their way around a barbecue, a kitchen, or a backyard.

A multi-use addition that’s sure to top the ‘best gift ever received’ list for any deserving dad, barbecue-obsessed boyfriend or female who can handle the flames..

If you, or your significant other, is into any of following, this is the ultimate cloth for:

• • Barbecuing
  • Cooking
  • Baking
  • Home DIY
  • Gardening
  • Crafting
  • Looking cool
  • Saving the day
  • BBQ Thor/Campfire Cowboy cosplay

Barbecue with it, clean surfaces with it, protect your hands from the flames with it, hold hot plates with it, wipe your hands on it, keep food warm with it, cook up a storm with it.

You get the drill/grill…

Let’s face it – cooking is a messy business.

If you’ve covered every counter surface, used every pot and pan at your disposal, lost a stukkie of the wors to the dog, or spilled red wine all over your new shoes, you’re probably doing something right and everyone is having fun. 

But we all know that heavy is the title of ‘Barbecue Master’. So you might as well look good while doing it.

The Grill Apron Colourways

More from our blog:

 Provincial Onion and Camembert Tart | In the Kitchen with Karen Dudley

Memory is a slippery thing. It can haunt and delude you, take you down false turns full of false accusations. But it is also a warm and tender container – of the perfect day, a fond meeting, a dinner with friends. It is a carrier of legacy, a conduit for dreaming, and a place where feeling and fantasy meet – and play.

Lately, I keep having this thought:
Memory cloth. Memory cloth. Memory cloth.
It’s becoming obsessive.

I have a dress in my cupboard that I’ve never worn. But I can’t bear to get rid of it, or to rehome it, and likely, I never will. This is because it belonged to my mother. It is a black linen shift dress, cut to the knee. In all the years it’s been in my possession, I’d hoped there would be a time I could slip into it – my mother’s frame much slighter than mine. And now I have outgrown it: my style has changed, and I find myself, time and again, making the same choices: comfort over all else. I cannot bear anything too cinching; it cannot touch my belly, it cannot hug my arms. The looser the fit, the freer I feel. The more room I have to move, the more room I have for everything else. I am a cloth person – I work for the cloth, so to speak – but I am fussy about how it lands on my skin. Or, perhaps because of this, I am fussy about how it lands on my skin.

I know that I will never get rid of this dress. It has followed me through three changes of address. It has travelled with me to Italy and to Spain, where I had the notion that I could use it to slip into a different skin – into another place, and another time. Travel opens up these kinds of romantic prospects; the ability to change yourself at will, on a whim.

Memory cloth. Memory cloth. Memory cloth.

I have in my possession a fairly vast and enviable collection of Mungo textiles. Some are one-offs or samples – strokes of creative genius that didn’t quite make the cut. Others accumulated over the years with a sense of I must have this thing. This thing feels luxurious and special. Linen bedding being one of them.

The first to be mine was the Summer Towel, woven in a vivid Cobalt Blue. It was 2019, I was fresh on the block, and slowly penning my way into the role of Mungo’s copywriter. “You work here now, you have to take home a towel. That is the deal. That is the rite of passage,” I was told.

Although I’ve accumulated several others over the years, that towel is still my favourite. It’s soft and organic, and the best reference to the old textile term ‘lofty’. And it has a story. It’s woven on a 130-year-old Lancashire loom – one that makes an incredible sound and stands sentinel at the front of the Mungo Mill. This loom is history in motion: a century ago, it clattered away in a different world, in an English weaving shed, powered by steam.

It’s the loom gifted to Stuart over 30 years ago, on which he began weaving limited runs of kitchen cloths from a small studio where passers-by would watch him work. Those were the early days of Mungo – one man and a loom. Now, we’re 100-strong. That loom, and that towel, have stories to tell. And what’s life without a little story to it, a little swing and song?

When my father died, it is the whispering of cloth that I remember. I received a phone call on a Thursday morning, at a time too early for any good news. I was in bed, and slipped off the sheets as if sliding down a wall, taking in three words that changed everything, all at once. I went to my mother – she was in bed, the duvet ruched up around her. Her bedding was always warm, always smelt like her, and always felt like home. We put sunflowers out for him on a square of linen. I do not remember the faces that came and went. I remember the sunflowers, and the linen.

Memory cloth. Memory cloth. Memory cloth.

When my niece was born, there was only one thing to do. I could not be there to count her eyelashes and her toes and her starfish fingers. I could not be there to hold her – but I could give her something that could. Her Mungo baby blanket is two years old now, and so is she. She still carries it with her into the lounge, the end trailing on the floor, her fingers curling into the folds. That cloth is part of her story now – it is memory in the making. Perhaps one day my Mungo Bakuba Throw – by then a vintage piece – will bear witness to my own children. It will swaddle small feet in bed, or add a sense of ritual to Sunday movie nights.

I hold no sentimental value to the uninteresting, mass-produced t-shirts in my collection. And this is perhaps a failing of their design – they won’t become hand-me-downs, or heirloom goods. They might briefly extend their life by being rehomed to another. And then, at last, they will see out their days somewhere they shouldn’t – the home no designer or clothmaker intends for their garment: the sprawling, and yet largely invisible elephant in the room – landfill.

But a Mungo cloth is a textile to be treasured. One that is timeless. One that will last. One that has a story – because I know how it was made, I’ve seen it on the looms, I know the face behind the cloth and six years later, I still feel very soft about working here.

Memory is a slippery thing. (I was right about the sunflowers. Was I right about the linen?)
But I do know its power, its beauty, its story.
I know its ability to turn a simple cloth into something much, much more.

Memory cloth. Memory cloth. Memory cloth.

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More from our blog:

The Subtle Magic of Scent with Tres Nagual | Winter Reflections | The Story Behind the Double Cloth