In photos, the KJP factory looks like a dreamscape of taxidermy and Yankee bric-a-brac. In person, the impression is amplified. Cabinets burst with croquet mallets and model sailboats. Shelves display thrift-store paintings of John F. Kennedy and Jackie. Mr. Patrick and Ms. Vickers hired a carpenter to build, inside the former dance studio, a massive wooden boat. The upper deck is a work space.

On a recent afternoon, a half-dozen workers stood around a table stuffing bracelet orders into boxes. They were all young and attractive, and dressed as if to dine at the Harvard Club. One guy had put on a gray tweed jacket and a white dress shirt. To work on the production floor. To operate a sewing machine. Between the taxidermy hanging everywhere and the bespoke wage workers, it was as if Wes Anderson had taken over a garment factory.

“It’s kind of what I want New England to be: it’s a New England fantasy,” Mr. Patrick said, explaining the look of the KJP headquarters, as well as the brand’s aesthetic. “To me, it’s classic American elegance.” (That fantasy also applies to Mr. Patrick’s surname, one he invented to go along with his new business venture. His actual last name is one he declines to disclose for reasons of privacy.)

By posing in sports cars in front of mansions and documenting his vast wardrobe, Mr. Patrick can come off on Instagram like a rich jerk, a James Spader character for the social media age. But he is friendly and down-to-earth in person, and doesn’t seem very fashion-y. He roamed the factory in rumpled brown pants from J. Crew and a plaid green flannel, talking excitedly about resurrecting American manufacturing.

The stacks of Fair Isle sweaters and other clothes, Mr. Patrick said, are from his first business with Ms. Vickers. Before the couple began making $40 upscale camp bracelets with anchor-shaped clasps, they haunted New England thrift stores to supply their online vintage clothing shop, Wicked Vintage. The clothes sold better when they photographed themselves wearing them, they said.

Mr. Patrick was not raised old-money but as the son of a detective in nearby Warwick. He and Ms. Vickers, who are both 31 and have been a couple since their teens, started Kiel James Patrick in 2008. They taught themselves to sew, handmade the first several thousand bracelets and dyed the rope by boiling it in lobster pots at his parents’ house. The Ivy League aura is an affectation: Mr. Patrick did not attend college; Ms. Vickers graduated from the University of Rhode Island.