In 2010, I was working in a phone shop in Burnley, doing some digital tea-boy duties for Umbro and helping a Japanese website style clients remotely (I had to find the clothes — the website lasted about eight months). You can probably guess how many of those roles I was actually getting paid for…
It was around that time I stumbled across a beautifully designed website selling clothing that was entirely designed, cut, sewn, and sourced from the islands of Britain and Ireland. The name of the brand was S.E.H Kelly. I messaged the owner of the site about borrowing some clothes for a shoot. He emailed me straight back and told me he was just on his lunch break at his advertising job, and that he’d reply properly later that evening. And he did.
What I received was the most lyrical, insightful and, dare I say it, funny email I’ve ever had. It was signed off simply as Paul. I must have re-read it 30 times. I was completely taken in, by him, by the brand, by the photography, the website, and most of all, his incredible verbal dexterity.
I bought lots of clothes from Paul and spoke to him at length about my hopes of starting my own clothing brand. He was encouraging and honest, warning me of the many pitfalls and financial woes, but still pushing me to go for it. A few weeks after I launched my brand, Paul placed an order. He was the first person I didn’t know to put his trust in the brand and actually buy something. He said he’d seen a write-up on the blog Oneupmanship and decided to take the plunge.
To put that into context, not even my close friends had bought anything yet (yes, apart from you, Joel). So for Paul to do that, it was a huge boost.
Paul also told me to join a forum called The Greenwich Barber, where people talked about clothes and I could potentially gain more exposure. I did just that, and it helped raise the profile of the brand, all thanks to him. Another incredible lift came when Paul offered to stock my socks in his London workshop. If S.E.H Kelly were proud to be associated with my brand, then maybe, just maybe, what I was doing was worth something.
Years passed. Every time I was in London, I would pop in to see Paul. We’d chat about clothes, biscuits, video games, fabrics, football, everything. He was the first person I met in the industry who was always kind to me. Always generous with his praise. Always helpful without hesitation. He introduced me to makers and suppliers, something few people do, even now.
I even started a podcast just so I could speak to him, and so others could hear just how brilliant he was. You can listen to that episode here.
I was lucky enough to work in the London workshop a few times with Paul. We’d sit and eat Marmite rolls and talk about buttons. I introduced everyone to him whenever I was in London, friends, family, even professional acquaintances, just because I wanted to show them what a wonderful friend I had.
The way Paul viewed fabric, design, drape, construction, utility, and aesthetics was unlike anyone I’ve ever met. He and his partner Sara created garments deeply rooted in classic British workwear and clothing traditions, but shaped by global influences. They made pieces that were more than just clothing , though Paul would roll his eyes if I got too pretentious.
We didn’t speak as often as I’d have liked. But when we did, it was always a joy. I remember how excited he was about discovering the incredible Sam at Woven in the Bone. He told me how he’d missed a bus when going to see her and could only spend an hour in Aberdeenshire before having to head back to London.
Paul’s designs were a constant source of inspiration. I saw them as the gold standard for quality, durability, design, and service. I’d look at the S.E.H Kelly website or Instagram and think, “Flippin’ ‘eck, I could never make that.” And honestly, I still can’t, not the way Paul did.
I’ve had overshirts, shirts, sweaters, t-shirts, cardigans, socks, hats — and my most prized possession: a Balmacaan made from impossibly heavy Irish tweed that turns heads every time I wear it. I’m always proud to throw it on when the temperatures dip and when people ask where it’s from, I proudly proclaim that it was designed and made by my friend Paul from the incomparable, peerless S.E.H Kelly.
Last week, I found out that my mentor, confidant, inspiration, and most of all, my friend, Paul had passed away.
I can’t begin to express how deep a loss this is for me, for my brand, and for the wider clothing world. But more than all of that, I cannot imagine the grief that Sara and their daughter must be feeling. I hope they can find some peace and healing in time.
This post isn’t meant to make you sad, or to reflect on missed moments with friends or family. It’s a reminder to tell your heroes what they mean to you. Support them. Remember them. And do all you can to keep their spirit alive.
I’m still heartbroken to have lost one of my best friends in the industry, someone who created such inspirational pieces of clothing and writing. I’ll remember him in everything I do, and I’ll do my best to carry the torch for Paul and the extraordinary work he did.
Thank you for everything, Paul, from the very bottom of my heart.
When I see you next, I’ll be sure to bring that Darko Pančev Inter shirt with me.