I’m not fashionista, but let me tell you… I love a woollen jersey at this time of year. Nothing fancy, but something with a good wool blend, a crew neck, and a classic knit. Practical and timeless.   

There’s a beautiful blue jersey I’ve had for a few years now that cost a couple of hundred bucks brand new, but on a pure cost-per-wear basis has been an absolute boon. It’s good for home, smart enough for the office – I’ve even worn it on television. On a yearly basis, I might wear it more than any other item of clothing I own.   

But like any good woollen jersey, time takes a toll. And when I did my summer-winter wardrobe switch this year and pulled out my woollen jersey for another season, my wife expressed concern.  

“You can’t wear that.”  

“What do you mean?” I asked.  

“Look at it!” she said.  

“The pills on that thing are the size of tennis balls!”  

To be fair, she wasn’t wrong. My jersey was covered in them. Not just in the high friction areas, all over. The sleeves, the pits, the neckline, and the back. Pills and frays and fuzz. And as much as I pride myself on not being too wasteful, I’ll concede that when I pulled it and checked myself out in the mirror, even I figured maybe my jersey was best relegated to the kids’ dressing up box.

Enter the fabric shaver, the gadget I never knew I needed. I think I’d seen my wife fussing about with it before, but I’d never really stopped to ask her what she was doing. And while I’m the first to ridicule unnecessary gadgets, I’ve gotta admit, now I’ve seen this thing in action up close, I’m a bonafide believer.

I realise I’m probably preaching to the converted here but on the off change you’ve never seen one in action, it’s a pretty simple mechanism. For starters, a fabric shaver is not to be confused with a lint roller. It’s not an adhesive-dependent gadget. It’s a battery-powered device which fits in your palm that has a head with lots of tiny little holes. As you pass the head over your woollen item, the little pills and bits of excess fluff are drawn into the holes and shaved off. As the name suggests, it’s not dissimilar to an electric razor, but instead of shaving the fluff off your jawline or your legs, it shaves the front of your favourite blue jersey.

As it happens, my wife has become a bit of addict. She reckons there’s something soothing about sitting down in front of the telly, passing a buzzing little machine over a much-loved sweater or blanket, observing as its chamber slowly fills with tiny woollen bits.

It’s not a fast process, but my god, it’s effective. Half an hour with the fabric shaver and my favourite blue jersey was totally rejuvenated. A million bucks.

In a throwaway world, there is something so satisfying about taking the time and effort to preserve quality. The King does it – getting his cobbler to sew little leather patches onto his old John Lobb shoes. I have a canvas backpack that I’ve used every day for 12 or 13 years, beaten up during the day, nursed back to health at night. And now we have an even easier way to keep our wool looking sharp.    

AI or quantum computing might be the technology for the coming century. But if you spot me walking about in my blue jersey this winter, take my word – something altogether more humble is my pick for the technology of the season. 

I’m not fashionista, but let me tell you… I love a woollen jersey at this time of year. Nothing fancy, but something with a good wool blend, a crew neck, and a classic knit. Practical and timeless. &nbsp;&nbsp;
There’s a beautiful blue jersey I’ve had for a few years now that cost a couple of hundred bucks brand new, but on a pure cost-per-wear basis has been an absolute boon. It’s good for home, smart enough for the office – I’ve even worn it on television. On a yearly basis, I might wear it more than any other item of clothing I own. &nbsp;&nbsp;
But like any good woollen jersey, time takes a toll. And when I did my summer-winter wardrobe switch this year and pulled out my woollen jersey for another season, my wife expressed concern. &nbsp;
“You can’t wear that.” &nbsp;
“What do you mean?” I asked. &nbsp;
“Look at it!” she said. &nbsp;
“The pills on that thing are the size of tennis balls!” &nbsp;
To be fair, she wasn’t wrong. My jersey was covered in them. Not just in the high friction areas, all over. The sleeves, the pits, the neckline, and the back. Pills and frays and fuzz. And as much as I pride myself on not being too wasteful, I’ll concede that when I pulled it and checked myself out in the mirror, even I figured maybe my jersey was best relegated to the kids’ dressing up box.
Enter the fabric shaver, the gadget I never knew I needed. I think I’d seen my wife fussing about with it before, but I’d never really stopped to ask her what she was doing. And while I’m the first to ridicule unnecessary gadgets, I’ve gotta admit, now I’ve seen this thing in action up close, I’m a bonafide believer.
I realise I’m probably preaching to the converted here but on the off change you’ve never seen one in action, it’s a pretty simple mechanism. For starters, a fabric shaver is not to be confused with a lint roller. It’s not an adhesive-dependent gadget. It’s a battery-powered device which fits in your palm that has a head with lots of tiny little holes. As you pass the head over your woollen item, the little pills and bits of excess fluff are drawn into the holes and shaved off. As the name suggests, it’s not dissimilar to an electric razor, but instead of shaving the fluff off your jawline or your legs, it shaves the front of your favourite blue jersey.
As it happens, my wife has become a bit of addict. She reckons there’s something soothing about sitting down in front of the telly, passing a buzzing little machine over a much-loved sweater or blanket, observing as its chamber slowly fills with tiny woollen bits.
It’s not a fast process, but my god, it’s effective. Half an hour with the fabric shaver and my favourite blue jersey was totally rejuvenated. A million bucks.
In a throwaway world, there is something so satisfying about taking the time and effort to preserve quality. The King does it – getting his cobbler to sew little leather patches onto his old John Lobb shoes. I have a canvas backpack that I’ve used every day for 12 or 13 years, beaten up during the day, nursed back to health at night. And now we have an even easier way to keep our wool looking sharp. &nbsp; &nbsp;
AI or quantum computing might be the technology for the coming century. But if you spot me walking about in my blue jersey this winter, take my word – something altogether more humble is my pick for the technology of the season.&nbsp;

Jack Tame’s crisp perspective, style and enthusiasm makes for refreshing and entertaining Saturday morning radio on Newstalk ZB.

News, sport, books, music, gardens and celebrities – what better way to spend your Saturdays?

Jack Tame’s crisp perspective, style and enthusiasm makes for refreshing and entertaining Saturday morning radio on Newstalk ZB. News, sport, books, music, gardens and celebrities – what better way to spend your Saturdays?

Jack Tame’s crisp perspective, style and enthusiasm makes for refreshing and entertaining Saturday morning radio on Newstalk ZB.News, sport, books, music, gardens and celebrities – what better way to spend your Saturdays?

Saturday Morning with Jack Tame

Jack Tame: The gadget I never knew I needed

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/7784f840-c291-422a-924b-ad9000bbad71/clips/09b414e9-7611-43e0-878f-b47c016a30c7/transcript