Fine tie makers struggle in a jeans & trainers world

Krefeld / DPA

A visit to the Ascot tie and cravat factory in Krefeld, Germany is like stepping back in time, the very building giving the impression
of a sobriety alien to today’s start-
ups. Silence and concentration reigns among the workers on the factory
floor, where only the rattle of the sewing and knitting machines — some of which are practically museum pieces — can be heard.
The 20-step production process and the ties themselves are also as if from another era; in an age in which the bosses of some listed companies wear jeans and trainers to work, the tie has apparently had its day.
But Barbara Pauen, great-granddaughter of the company’s founder and who now runs it together with her brother, rejects that. “The masses wear fewer ties,” the 54-year-old says. “But there’ll always be people who value a high quality product and can afford it.”
And that’s the market Ascot targets. In contrast to the other 200 tie-makers to which Krefeld — also known as the “city of velvet and silk” — was once home, Ascot consciously decided against shifting its production abroad. “That was the right decision for us,” says Pauen.
The ties are still wholly or partly made by hand, usually using fine
materials such as Italian silk. The cutting, the working-in of the lining, folding, ironing, stitching and labelling is all done by hand. That means the quality of the high-end ties, which start at
40 euros (44 dollars), is assured, according to Pauen.
It also makes competition from cheap Asian, mainly Chinese imports less of a problem for Ascot than for other Krefeld-based tie-makers, she says. Their customers include the top luxury labels. “All of the knitted ties sold by Hermes are made by us,” says Pauen.
Indeed, ties from Krefeld are sold all over the world. “There are 3,000 ties going off to a big Japanese client,” says factory manager Stefan Vierkoetter as he passes a heavily laden shelf on one of his walkabouts.
But from around 15 million euros per year in its heyday, turnover has now sunk to around 5 million to 7 million euros. “But you can still make money,” says Pauen. In the tie business they have to get through the troughs, she says. “And unfortunately sometimes the only way to do that is by letting people go,” she adds.
Ascot once had several hundred employees, now they number between 50 and 60. “The tie is definitely part of Krefeld’s identity,” a spokeswoman for the city near the Dutch border says. Around 80 per cent of Germany’s ties still come from Krefeld although the industry is no longer economically significant. German consumers buy 70 billion euros’ worth of clothing every year, according to data from the Confederation of the German Textile and Fashion Industry. But the market for ties and bowties is shrinking.
Domestic sales were worth 15 million euros last year; just four years earlier they were worth 25.5 million euros. Demonized in nations like Iran as a symbol of western domination, ties are no longer in fact everyday wear for many western men.
Although ties only make up a
tiny percentage of Germany’s domestic textiles industry, the local garments
industry is loathe to let go of them
completely.
The German Fashion Institute (Deutsch Modeinstitut) in Cologne still chooses a “Tie Wearer of the Year” and Hartmut Spiesecke, spokesman for the textiles confederation, is certain there’ll always be a place in fashion for the tie. “The tie is one of men’s few opportunities to accessorize – after all, a nose ring doesn’t suit everyone,” he says.