On the silk city
Lyon is a truly wondrous city. Its ancient city centre is set on an island in the middle of a slow flowing river. It is connected on both sides by numerous antique stone bridges that only take a few moments to walk across. The town is dominated by a magnificent spired cathedral, which is set high on a hill above the old quarter. The streets are narrow and cobbled, with barely enough space for a single car to edge around the café tables and chairs. Defiantly no parking, so it is a city for walkers and with its many glorious churches, for pilgrims. I was on a silk pilgrimage. Lyon was once the centre of the silk weaving trade in France. Its extensive textile museum was built in 1890 but the accumulation of textiles started in the 1850's. It is filled with glorious examples of jacquards, brocaded lampas, figured cut velvets and rich damasks, many commissioned by the Kings and Queens of Europe. In the heyday of silk production in the 17th and 18th century the walls of the palaces were covered in sumptuous silks. Curtains were full and luxurious, and often there would be a summer and winter set. These rich and jewel like silks were hand woven on narrow looms. Often the early silks were only 18 inches in width, so it took many yards and often years of work, to weave sufficient for one room. These silks were however treasured and appreciated. They were defiantly a status symbol and were only the preserve of the aristocracy of Europe. As well as the collections of carpets and textiles from the Far and Middle East, the Lyon silk museum has some wonderful examples of silk lamee, brocades and jacquards fabrics, as well as articles of clothing. I had intended to visit for a long time and finally an antique fair in the City, coincided with one of my trips to England. I caught the smooth high speed Euro star train to Paris and then the amazingly efficient T.V.G. train down the South of France to Lyon. It was my first trip so I was totally unfamiliar with the city and its transport system. Unfortunately I am also a dunce at languages, and have little more than "merci" and "sil vous plait" in my French vocabulary. After an extra year's private tuition in England, I still managed to score only 10% out of a 100% in my final National exams, in French, so you have some inkling of my language problems. I arrived in Lyon having done no research on the city and its layout. I had booked myself a hotel room, equipped myself with some French francs, but planned little else other than a desire to attend the Fair and visit the silk museum. By chance my visit coincided with a great deal of National student unrest. Lyon is a large University City and the student protest was particularly vocal and well organized. My first impressions of this beautiful city were of armed National guards, tanks, and police. They were stationed at each end of the numerous bridges linking the city, and at every major pedestrian crossing. I was curious and naive. I was also excited by the scent of tension and drama that was almost palpable in the air. I had nil experience of the French police and in particular their methods of handling riots. There were hundreds of chanting students congregated in the main square, and I had noticed as I walked through the ancient streets, many boarded up and broken shop windows. I was magnetically drawn by my curiosity towards the obvious centre of the protest. Many hundreds of students were assembled in the centre of the town, appropriately enough, gathered in large groups beneath the grandiose bronze statues of local heroes riding their steeds to battle. The square was surrounded by police mounted on horseback, motorbike and in ominous looking white vans with blacked out windows. Whether I was getting prudent in my old age or whether it was natural instinct, something kept me on the edge of a street, suddenly several more vans spilled out of the surrounding streets, discouraging riot police whilst still moving. At the same instant the two tanks that were situated at either end of the square started moving towards the main body of the students whilst simultaneously turning on their water canons. I was shocked at the suddenness of the rough justice being metered out to the screaming students. Some were only kids, but other more seasoned protesters hurled invective at the police as they made their desperate escapes down the narrow, twisting cobbled streets. I was shaken and decided that it was not my problem and that I had better to see to my own rapid departure. This was no place for a green antique dealer. I decided to take refuge in the silk museum. I escaped into the cool and predictable rooms of the museum and was rapidly transported back into a world of luxury and opulence. The ground floor has an area, which explores the role of Lyon as a silk weaving city. Then this area continues into a series of six rooms, which contain near and Middle-Eastern textiles. It was this first area that was of particular interest to me as it contained examples of the sumptuous embroidered waistcoats that were worn by nobility for formal occasions such as court events, in the 17 and 18th century. By the 1770's menswear was becoming more and more decorative, and these floral embroidered pieces were worked on rich silks, satins and velvets. Complementary designs were used for the breeches, waistcoats, coats and the silk covered buttons. A black silk velvet coat with matching embroidery might cover an exquisite, hand worked cream silk waistcoat. The entire ensemble would have been first cut, and then embroidered, before it was stitched together with minute stiches. When you realize that a man of fashion might own over a hundred of these beautiful items, and that they could have taken several women, who were earning subsistence wages, months to embroider them, you begin to understand the underlying reasons for the French Revolution. The gap between the incredibly rich nobility, and the starving poor, was enormous. Naturally enough the museum exhibits several of these costly items of apparel, as the centre of Lyon was renown for its elegant and expensive fabrics. After an enjoyable hour I wandered up the stairs to the second floor, where a few examples of twentieth century fabrics were exhibited. I love the wonderful silk lame shawls that were worn for eveningwear in the 1920's and thirties. These magnificent shawls were to mark the end of an era for some of the elegant Parisian fashion houses, as most of them closed down during the Second World War. When peacetime finally reappeared many of the great family fortunes had been swallowed up, either through the predictable misfortunes of war, or had simply disappeared along with their unfortunate Jewish owners. The great fashion houses had closed and the mills had changed their production towards the needs of the armed forces and their uniforms. Anyone left with money had often gained it via the black market, and protectionism and greed had kept those enjoying the new source of wealth, small. Even if the industry had been able to find some skilled workers to design and produce the wonderful brocades, there was no longer an opulent market, with the means to purchase and enjoy their expensive product. Twenty years ago when I had started to collect the exquisite coats and jackets, I had not really appreciated what fabulous pieces of design and couture, and they really were. New Zealand didn't provide many social occasions where a shocking pink and kingfisher blue lame cape, lined with a burnt orange silk lining, and trimmed with a fox fur collar, could be shown off to its full advantage. Unfortunately, with this in mind, I simply bought those that it would have been criminal to resist, and not every example that crossed my path. There were a few examples of beautiful shawls on display at Lyons, but most of the area was covered with cabinets containing a mixture of pattern designs and examples of fabric. Many of the famous designers like Duffy and Pierot were represented but the best place to see these items of elegant fashion is in the textile museum near the Louvre, in Paris.
