EVERY summer, Majbritt Jakobsen spends more time at her sewing machine. She makes the woollen breeches, skirts and embroidered waistcoats the Faroese wear for Olavsoka, a midsummer holiday of parades, dancing and ballad recitals. Demand is booming, even from fashion-conscious youngsters. A few years ago, she would stop taking orders in May. This year, it was February. She worked 16-hour days to get the outfits ready.

The Faroes, a remote cluster of rocks, are now cool. Politicians fretted for years about a shrinking population; these days more people are settling than leaving. There are 50,000 islanders, a record high, though they are still outnumbered by 80,000 sheep. Tourism is up, as brave foodies sample fermented lamb and puffin stuffed with cake. National pride is surging, claims Mrs Jakobsen. “We will put the Faroe Islands on the map,” she says.

Secessionists want to seize the moment. They have been smarting since 1946, when islanders narrowly voted for independence from Denmark, which has ruled the Faroes (at first in a union with Norway) for six centuries. The Danish government rejected the referendum and dissolved the islands’ parliament. The Faroes won home rule two years later, yet Copenhagen, located 800 miles away, still controls the currency, foreign affairs and some of the courts.

Republicans want the islanders to adopt their own constitution. Four tries to introduce one failed, but they persist. Last month, the government—a coalition of traditionally unionist Social Democrats and pro-independence Republican and Progressive parties—issued a new draft. It wants parliament to back a referendum on the text, pencilled in for next April.

The nine-page charter is not exactly a divorce letter. It echoes the entitlements already conferred by the Danish version, as well as enshrining the Faroese language and outlawing sex discrimination. Denmark accepts the Faroes’ right to a constitution, so long as it does not clash with its own. Yet the draft has no clear mention of Denmark and offers paths to more autonomy. Social Democrats see it as desirable in its own right; both secessionists and unionists regard it as a possible step towards independence.

Republicans say there has never been a better time to dump Denmark. The economy is surging, thanks to rising fish prices. Fishermen have found new markets in America, China and Russia. Faroese GDP per head equals that of Iceland, a former Danish possession, and trumps Britain’s. Unemployment is negligible. The government relies less than ever on subsidies from Denmark, which last year totalled 642m Danish kroner ($102m). The block grant has shrunk from 11.2% of GDP in 2000 to 3.3% in 2017. Kristina Hafoss, the finance minister and a Republican, complains that Danish ministers do not root for the Faroes in global negotiations; they won’t defend whale-hunting, for example. Unionists say the economy is too small to flourish alone: at some point, low fish prices or overfishing could cause a slump. When catches sagged in the 1990s, government debt soared and GDP shrank by 40%. A survey last year, by Gallup Foroyar, a pollster, showed a slim pro-union majority, even when respondents were asked to ignore the Danish subsidy. Yet in another poll, this year, most islanders favoured independence by 2035.

A constitutional referendum would test support for independence, but the ballot may be shelved. Unionists dislike the draft and want big changes. The ruling coalition has the slimmest possible majority and is mired in controversial fishing reforms. It will be hard to get enough lawmakers to endorse the poll. Yet again, the prize catch could slip through the net.