Ok, his surname might not be ‘Clooney’, but he sort of looks like the movie star. And like his namesake, there’s a connection to Lebanon in amongst the family tree.

Actually, to associate our George with any sort of movie star would be incorrect, because he is more like a rock star – of socks. (Does that make him a sock star?)

As the chief behind the banks of sock knitting machines at Wilderness Wear, George has carved out an interesting career for himself. Initially a law student, he diverted his studies to accept a mechanics apprenticeship with the Holeproof company where he remained until local manufacturing was closed and supply outsourced overseas. Already known to the management of Wilderness Wear, George was quickly moved over to his current role.

Part of George’s skill and value comes from the need to manage a quantity of machines, all of different brand, origin and age. Some, like the old Bentley Komets from the 1950s are best serviced with a hammer, while the newer equivalents by Sangiacomo from Santoni in Italy are highly sophisticated machines.

George says he has never done jail time, but reckons his eight years with Wilderness Wear has been a pretty stiff sentence. (Since when was feeling up a lonely sock machine any real crime?) And mind if anyone startles him from behind on the factory floor – what looks like a threading tool quickly becomes a shiv when needed and an offender ends up on the floor squealing like a stuck boar. Don’t fuck with this pretty boy, reads the t-shirt.

There is a political claim to fame within George’s CV, and that is the occasion where he made a pair of socks for the Prime Minister of Australia, The Hon. Paul Keating. A man of known sartorial high standards, the socks were surely a fitting match to his fine Italian suits!

A champion – or pin-up boy, if you like – of the Australian manufacturing sector, George is a valuable player within the Walls of Wilderness Wear and is representative of the drive of like-minded companies to keep these skill sets onshore.