Why Twined Rugs Are Different: A Slow Craft in a Fast-Fashion World

Why I Choose Twined Rugs: A Slow Craft in a Fast-Fashion World

Every time I sit down at my loom, I’m reminded of something important:
we live in a world that moves fast, asks for more, and rarely pauses long enough to appreciate the things made slowly and made well.

It’s easy to buy a rug online for the price of a takeout meal. I used to scroll past them myself with their bright patterns, low prices, shipped in a day. But once I began learning the heritage craft of rug twining, I started seeing those items differently. Not with judgment, but with a clearer understanding of what’s behind them.

Many mass-produced rugs are created the same way fast fashion is: quickly, cheaply, and in huge quantities. They’re designed to last a season or two before being tossed aside. And while the price tag looks appealing, the true cost, environmental, ethical, human, is harder to see.

Twined rugs sit on the opposite end of that spectrum, and that’s why I fell in love with them.

What Makes Twining Feel Different

When you work with fabric strip by strip, row by row, you start to understand how much intention goes into a piece that’s built entirely by hand. The fabric isn’t pretending to be something else, no printed on texture, no adhesives holding things together. The strength comes from the structure itself, from thousands of tiny twists that lock into place as your hands move.

There’s something profoundly grounding about that process.
The slow rhythm, the physicality, the way the rug grows on your loom, it’s a kind of making that doesn’t rush you. It asks you to be present.

Cheap rugs can mimic the look, but they can’t mimic the integrity.

The Hidden Cost of Disposable Textiles

I don’t craft rugs to compete with the $20 versions online, they’re part of a system built on speed and volume, not on care. That’s their lane. But the textile world has long wrestled with issues that deserve attention: overproduction, waste, and in some regions, labor conditions that no maker would ever endorse if they saw them up close.

I can’t speak for every factory or every brand, but I can speak for what many of us know: when something is remarkably cheap, someone or something usually pays the difference.

That’s one of the reasons I choose to make in small batches, with my own two hands, using materials I know and trust.

Sustainability Isn’t a Trend Here, It’s the Root

The history of twining comes from resourcefulness. Families used what they had, worn garments, leftover cloth, whatever could be given new life. That spirit is still alive in the studio today.

Many of my rugs begin as fabric others might discard. With a little cutting, bundling, and coaxing, those scraps become something strong enough to hold a room together. It’s a reminder that sustainability isn’t always about buying the newest eco-friendly product. Sometimes it’s simply choosing to make, and keep, things that last.

A Rug With a Story, Not a Barcode

When I finish twining a rug, I can tell you exactly where every strip of fabric came from. I can tell you how long it took, where the design shifted, where I adjusted tension, where the colors aligned in a way that surprised me. There’s a relationship with the work that develops over hours and days, the kind of relationship no machine can replicate.

A handmade twined rug isn’t perfect in the mass-produced sense.
It’s better than that.
It has presence. It has character. It has someone behind it.

Why This Craft Matters to Me

For me, rug twining is more than technique. It’s a quiet act of resistance in a world that pushes everything to be faster, cheaper, thinner, easier. It’s a way to slow down, to honor older making traditions, and to create textiles that will be lived with, not thrown away when the next sale rolls around.

Whether someone brings an Embers & Aura rug into their home or simply learns about the process, I want them to feel the difference. Not just in how the rug looks, but in what it represents: steadiness, care, and a craft that refuses to disappear.