Letters
Letter from Paris: The Made in France Exhibition
Dear friends,
It’s been a good season for exhibitions around here. I’ve been twice to see the blockbuster, the surprise smash hit that was Caillebotte: Peindre les hommes (Caillebotte: Painting Men) at the Musée d’Orsay. Tickets sold out months ahead of the end of the run, which nobody saw coming. Not even me, and I have always loved Caillebotte more than any other Impressionist.
The show was full of delicious details of late-nineteenth-century textile and costume, including these high-crowned boating hats (note the ribbons to adjust the fit) that feature in many of his paintings of male rowers. I am obsessed and I want one.
Gustave Caillebotte, Canotiers (detail), 1877. Oil on canvas, private collection.
Unfortunately, the show was also full of people.
I don’t mean the people in the paintings, I mean le tout Paris and their out-of-town friends and relations, plus piles and piles of people from elsewhere who had got word that if you were coming to town, this was the thing you needed to see.
In spite of timed entry, in spite of going first thing in the morning during members’ hours, the atmosphere in the galleries was, shall we say, less than serene.
On the one hand, it’s pretty cool to live in a town where art exhibitions are more popular than football. On the other hand, I’d rather not have museumgoing be a contact sport.
Meanwhile, the Musée des Archives Nationales (the museum of the French National Archives) was offering something much smaller and far quieter, but even more packed with choice morsels for yarn and fabric nerds like you and me. This was Made in France: Une histoire du textile (Made in France: A History of the Textile).
If that museum sounds familiar, maybe you remember my visit to their exhibition about the history of the Rambouillet Merino, the one where Clara Parkes almost got us kicked out because she cannot be trusted around taxidermied sheep.
That was a while ago and I recently changed my facial hair, so I decided I could probably slip past the security guards and look around.
Made in France was a small show: just one medium-large gallery with a tiny blip of a second gallery attached at the tail end. Still, it packed a wallop.
The goal wasn’t to tell the entire history of textile-making in France. It started with the late seventeenth century, when French consumers were increasingly drawn to cloth imported from India and China. As a result, the nation’s own textile manufacturing began to suffer.
Enter Jean-Baptiste Colbert, Comptroller-General of Finances under Louis XIV, who decided the best plan of action was twofold: first, tax the heck out of those foreign fabrics; second, establish a national system of standards and inspections for France’s own textile industry. Lower the level of competition, raise the level of quality. Such was the idea, and it worked—for a time.
Linen from Vimoutiers and Lisieux bearing government inspection and makers’ stamps, 1782.
From there, the exhibition traced the rise, and fall, and rise, and fall of the manufacture of fabric in France, ending on a sombre note with the shuttering of most of the spinning and weaving mills by the end of the 1990s.
As the subject is fabric, of course the mix of artifacts on display included hundreds of intriguing swatches. Here are a few of my favorites.
Painted Cotton
These swatches of “toile peintes” (painted cotton) from Amiens were collected by an inspector in 1763 as part of a report on the state of textile manufacturing in the region. The designs are clearly inspired by the Indian block-printed cottons that had kicked off Colbert’s reforms–and that are still produced today. The inspector noted that the factory’s staff of 56 included 20 pinceauteurs, brush-workers, who added the color to the printed cloth.
Toile de Jouy
One of the most famous fabrics ever produced in France (it has its own museum) is the scenic single-color printed cotton called toile de Jouy. It was developed in the town of Jouy-en-Josas, at the factory of Christophe-Phillipe Oberkampf. The most famous varieties were (and are) decorated with romanticized rural or antique scenes populated by shepherds and picturesque ruins.
In 1783, when his firm received the coveted title of manufacture royale (royal maker), Oberkampf ordered a celebratory design showing in splendid detail the various stages in the making of toile de Jouy–all of them taking place outdoors in an arcadian landscape.
Printing a length of Toile de Jouy, including Oberkampf’s new royal warrant.
Adding painted details to a length of printed fabric.
Rejected Socks
In the 1780s, the proprietors of a stocking-knitting company in Saint-Amand petitioned the regional government for permission to have their spinning and knitting done outside of France. They sent along this charming pair of child’s wool stockings to demonstrate the quality that could be obtained for a low price. The government said no.
Cute, but no.
The Knitted Silk of the Widow Pallouis
This beautiful strip of knitted floral fabric is made from soie galette, bourette silk. The process uses cocoon waste to produce a thread cheaper than pure silk but more elegant than cotton, and was adapted from a Swiss process by the inventor and entrepreneur Marie Gagnière, the Widow (Veuve) Pallouis. She submitted this and other samples to the government in 1778, seeking to secure her inventor’s rights.
Sprucing Up Versailles
The French Revolution of 1789 decimated the French silk industry. As Emperor, Napoléon I sought to bring it back to life with imperial patronage, including rolls of this multi-colored silk brocade (ordered in 1811) intended for the renovation of the empress’ bedroom at Versailles.
Big in Batavia
As part of an 1845 mission to increase exports of French fabric to Asia, a government agent visiting the market in Batavia (present-day Jakarta, Indonesia) gathered these silk samples as an indication of local tastes. They come from India, China, Japan, and … France.
Arsenic and Old Lace but Especially Arsenic
The exciting emergence of synthetic dyes was represented by a silk day dress, made in Paris in the 1860s, with exquisite details including lace cuffs and passementerie buttons decorated with fine thread work.
This particular green (now greatly dulled by time and oxidation) was created with a dye that included copper and arsenic. So much arsenic, in fact, that the dress may still be poisonous even to casual observers, and was therefore thoughtfully displayed in a hermetically sealed glass case.
Wartime Experiments
The severe shortages caused by World War II led to nationwide drives to recycle and reuse old fabrics, and there were also experiments in using non-traditional fibers as well. The upholstery samples from the 1940s were woven from a filament derived from genêt (broom).
And Then …
Inevitably, after three centuries of eye candy came the arrival of post-war synthetics.
Now, I listened to my grandmother and her friends talk about the horrors of laundry day in the 1920s and 1930s. I understand completely why the words “drip dry” and “no-iron” could bring joy to the hearts of those who had spent their entire lives dreading Monday and Tuesday.
And yet.
I cannot stand polyester. I am a child of the seventies. I went to school stuffed into rip-resistant pants with a crease sewn down the front, and to church in wrinkle-free dress shirts that could stand up on their own. I remember the truly astonishing aroma of double-knits drenched in sweat and cigarette smoke. I can still feel the rug burns from shag carpet and Herculon upholstery.
So I shuddered in front of this poster from the textile organization Flésa.
“The right fabric,” it says, “isn’t chosen by chance.” It goes on to tout the value of the “Flésa” label, which not only guaranteed quality–but also told you through a system of color-coding how the fabric was to be laundered.
It was here that Made in France brought up a point I’d never considered before. Until polyester, nylon, and their kin came to market, a person with basic life skills could tell by feel what sort of fabric they were touching, and know how to care for it.
Now, it wasn’t so simple. This, the exhibition noted, is when the first garment care labels were created. Because without those labels, you no longer had any way of knowing for sure what might be in your skirt or shirt or coat or even your underwear.
That knowledge seems in hindsight like a sad thing to have given up, even if it did mean (and this is no small thing) that my grandmother got a little more rest on Mondays and Tuesdays.
I realized, in that moment, that one reason I love knitting my own socks and sweaters and whatnot is that I can know more about where they come from and what they’re made of.
I’m glad I’m not alone in that. There’s been a considerable increase in the number of yarn manufacturers who not only tell you what fibers they’re using, but where and how those fibers were raised and processed. That’s happening because more and more of us demand to know.
In a world where we are constantly bombarded with information from everywhere, yet seem to know less and less about what’s right next to us, that seems like a step in the right direction.
Cordialement,
Franklin
Come Shop With Us
Thank you, Franklin! My favorite dispatches, bar none.
Yes!! Me, too. Many thanks, Franklin. Especially appreciated today, here in the U.S.
I still haven’t recovered from the Qiana era.
Me, either. I’m afraid we never will!
Among my friends there was one particular Qiana dress that was most borrowed for formal dances. Dusty rose and SLINKY.
Seems like common sense to me. How did the world of fabric go so far askew?
Always a joy to read mon vieux. You transport us with grace and finesse so well that one can almost smell the aroma of the local patisserie.
Thank you for this article. It is wonderful!
Love the stripes in the little socks!
A lovely visit to the exhibit, thank you!
Pardonez moi, Monsieur…
S’il vous plais…
You have not included a caption or mention of the image in your banner. Could you tell us what those delicious swatches are? Might they be carpet swatches or a piled fabric (lower priced approximation of a velvet/cordurois)?
Thank you so much for this tidbit!
PS – “Museum going as a contact sport”… You are SO not alone! I avoided the Louvre/Mona Lisa for exactly this reason. Love does NOT conquer all!
Ah, yes. We can’t put captions on the banner. Those are 19th century mohair velvets 🙂
Merci for sharing your experience. I too am a survivor of ‘70’s synthetics. Huck-a-poo brand blouses we’re all the rage when I was in high school. They came in flashy prints but when that first warm spring day came, we couldn’t get out of them fast enough.
I had forgotten about Huck-a-poos! They were my favorites!
Thank you for your insights. I love my handmade socks, sweaters, and accessories because I can’t find that comfort and softness in store-bought items. But knowing what’s in my handmade woolens makes them easier to care for.
Fascinating, as always. Every single time. Thank you.
Thank you for this beautiful diversion today!
As always I adore Franklin’s writing and insights. Brilliantly funny and always interesting. When I see an MDK email with a post from him I immediately stop scanning my email for anything else and leap with glee into his world.
Merci encore, Franklin,
Your dispatches are the best! An interesting and informative read to start the day. I, too, dislike all the synthetics available everywhere today. Pure wool, pure cotton, pure silk and pure linen are still the best. Thank you for enabling us to enjoy your experiences with you.
A bientot,
Ruth Ellen ❤️❤️
Marvelous. Thank you for the tour, insights and humor. I always look forward to your letters.
Merci, Franklin, for your kindness today. A tiny spot of decency and hope.
Hope you’ll get to have some new adventures with your pal, Clara, while she’s in Paris!
What a wonderful post! I live in what was once a huge textile town (Spartanburg, SC) and my husband worked in textiles for 42 years before retirement. I have seen some of the books of the fabrics the mills produced (thankfully, they were kept!) so maybe our town could do a textile exhibit, too. I remember well the polyester of the 1970’s – my husband’s company made those and quickly quit when they figured out the fabric did not wear out so no more would be needed to be produced.
Gratitude, especially today, for sharing your voice and some beauty plus history.
Today is a knitting create with care day: this helps.
Thank you…
Take care and wish us luck.
Blessings
A fascinating article to wake up to! Thank you Franklin.
As always, my favorite. Born in the 50’s, I am still traumatized by the advent of polyester. I know laundry day was easier for my mother and grandmother. I clearly remember as a child standing at an ironing board, ironing pillow cases, napkins, table linens and anything else. ( I was not however, allowed to iron my father’s dress shirts, which had to stand up in the corner by themselves from so much starch) I still own many of those items.
I have always been fascinated by vintage linens and cherish the embroidered and crocheted items made by my mother and grandmother. I would love to see the textile exhibit. I truly appreciate your writings and sharing of such beautiful items.
Wonderful ‘postcard.’
So no missing the Caillebotte at the Art Institute?
I abhor these crowded exhibitions … so hard to enjoy them. I was at one where someone was taking a selfie in front of each painting … I suppose to look at the artwork later?
Wish there was a catalog for that splendid textile show … and that I could be in Paris yo see it.
Brava for small exhibitions! (And M Colbert)
Signed, she who loves toile.
Thank you for the tour!
This letter from Paris brought the memory of a visit to the delightful Souleiado Museum in Tarascon, Provence… Quintessential fabric of this region, traditional material for household linens, summer in general and of course clothing inspired by India. Merci Franklin!
Great piece. As usual!
Franklin, thank you for that lovely tour of textile history.
You mentioned you’ve rearranged your facial hair. Might we have a glimpse of that change in your next letter? Or on Patreon?
There are many shots/videos of Franklin on Patreon without his moustache!
Lovely article. Thank you, Franklin!
Splendid!!! I want to see what you saw but, alas, not to be! So, thanks as always your writing portrays so much.
It’s always a joy to read your letters from Paris. It’s thought-provoking. Now days the younger generation don’t know how to wash clothes at all! They wonder why red dye would go on my mother’s blue/white night gown. Um, because they left red slippers in the dryer. LOL
The perfect article to kick off my Monday morning, before I head in to work in a knitting and needlepoint shop. So much more fulfilling than the news.
Thank you for sharing this journey,
Norla
So informative and a joy to read! Thank you, Franklin.
Did Flésa ever realize that the right fabric is NOT made of polyester?
I love your dispatches so much!! I am completely with you on the wonder-fabrics. My grandmother’s closet is absolutely full of every non-natural miracle fibre possible because she was a single mom with two boys and a full time job in the 1960s and polyester saved her mind. But. But. They are so awful to the touch that I can’t even imagine wearing them. To this day, she doesn’t have any special love for cotton, wool, or linen. Thank you for all of the wonderful photos! Can’t wait to see you on the MDK Society zoom!
A little bit of joy for Monday morning. Thank you Franklin.
What a wonderful tour through the exhibit and history! Thank you for taking your readers along for the journey.
Thank you for the tour, Franklin. Fun to get the highlights of an exhibit we won’t ever be able to see in person. I’m another one that never really thought about how garment care labels came about and why.
I LOVE these articles! Thank you. ❤️
Thank you Franklin.
Thank-you Franklin, so much to ponder from your writing today!!
Rug burns from shag rugs – wow… Talking about bringing back memories!
These are the types of exhibits I drag my husband , and we both walk away with all sorts of new knowledge.
I remember Grandma shuddering about the old ways and days of laundry. She had a scrub board and an old roller machine in the basement.
She loved her washer and dryer in an added room upstairs.
Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for this history!
My mother ironed my white blouses for school with so much starch that it hurt my neck BUT it was 100% cotton. She ironed everything including my father’s boxer shorts. Although I’m not that extreme I won’t wear polyester if I can avoid it because I would rather iron a linen blouse. When my kids were little I was the only mom in the neighborhood who used a sewing machine and my iron.
Franklin, you are the bees knees! I was also in high school in late 60’s/early 70’s but was lucky enough that my mom sewed many of my clothes (I was 5’10” and it was difficult in those days to find clothing with long enough sleeves and inseams), so I had quite a few plaid Pendleton wool skirts and when I learned how to knit, made vests/sweaters to coordinate. But I do remember when double knit polyester was the main fabric at the sewing stores (oh how I hated that stuff!) and some of my clothes were made of that, too. Of course the local yarn shop stocked Orlon acrylic (Wintuck if I remember correctly) not real woolen yarns, and oh(!) what a joy when I discovered real wool! I am still enjoying discovering the yarns that are now available from different breeds and individual form flocks in some cases not to mention silks, cottons, alpacas, etc. We are so lucky to be knitters these days and have the internet to discover new yarns and designs. Thank you for the history lesson, fascinating reading, as always! (PS I got a kick out of your description of the “steeking self” adventure, so glad it wasn’t worse.). I visit Paris through your delightful stories and only hope to get there in person someday soon.
What a great break-time read! Thank you!
I’m happy to leave the synthetic fibers in the ‘70’s. I am also obsessed with the hats in the painting. Thank you for sharing your letter with us.
“In a world where we are bombarded with information… yet seem to know less and less…” that right there is a gem. Very interesting and entertaining walk through a snippet of textile history as always. Thank you, Franklin. And have you warned the taxidermied sheep that Clara is back in town?!?
Don’t knock Qiana. I sewed two garments from this above-average synthetic fabric which drew many compliments including at once a both slinky (Pam) and elegant black one (Vogue Edith Head) that made my youthful mother the belle of the ball. Nevertheless these days with knitting I prefer working with natural fibers. Thank you, Franklin, for this fascinating, historical background on the evolution of what France does best – create beautiful fabrics, clothing, painting, etc. And lucky you regarding the Caillebotte exhibition!
My grandmother had such stories of her youth misspent dragging big copper kettles out to fires in the farmyard to get the laundry done for the household and the hands. We were all convinced she loved her electric washing machine more than our grandpa and forgave her all her synthetics.
I never knew Batavia was Jakarta, Indonesia! That explains so much. Thank you for taking me on your tour and expanding my world.
So informative… always a pleasure to discover these fascinating gems.
Thank you Franklin for taking the time to tell us all about your textile museum trip. Very informative and fascinating.
Liked hearing about the origin of the term, Arsenic and Old Lace.
The polyester was so awful, I changed careers in the ‘70’s to get out of the mandatory polyester nursing uniforms.
Love the reflection that museum going should not be a contact sport. So true.
Enjoyed the article. Thank you
I want one too. And maybe a hat as well.
Thanks for the tour.
Sadly, now I want to know what the smell of sweaty double-knits with cigarette smoke is like. I grew up in the ’60s, I should know. I guess I should feel fortunate I don’t carry odor memories.
Such a wonderful tour of a museum that seems worth going to regardless of the exhibit.
Sorry about the Caillebotte. I do have the ability to ignore vast numbers of people if I have to–perhaps we could swap.
Thank you for this glimpse inside the exhibition! In a better world the Luddites would have won their war against the textile industrialists and we wouldn’t be able to own 15 pairs of cheap yoga pants but we would have a few items made beautifully like this.
On the subject of museum shows not to miss, for you and anyone visiting Paris before the end of March, go to the Museum of Decorative Arts for the Intimacy exhibition! https://madparis.fr/Exhibition-L-intime-de-la-chambre-aux-reseaux-sociaux
Brilliant as always, thank you for the gallery tour! It was wonderful to see the textiles. I always look forward to your postcards, they make my day happier.
Mille mercis!
Encore merci, Franklin. I love your writing!
I too love Caillebotte! Was lucky enough to see a special exhibit in DC almost 10 years ago. Possibly less crowded than d’Orsay. Hope to see another someday. Thanks for sharing!
Thank you for taking me on this trip with you!
Welcome back to the printed word!
I too like to know where fibers come from, and am often disappointed with hand-dyers who omit that information from their labels. They seem to think it’s enough to say where it was dyed—but I want to know where the yarn itself came from, as well.
So that’s where the AIC’s lovely Caillebotte has been hanging out.
Thank you for sharing! I almost forgot about those polyester pants with the creases! Seems like those were the only pants available for “chubby girls”.
On another note, my husband and I will be in Paris in April to celebrate our 40th anniversary (timed around the Paris Opera schedule). I love yarn – what must I see when I’m there?
Thanks!
Thank you so much for this fascinating excursion! Yarn and fabric nerds unite!
I couldn’t get enough of this article! I wish I could fly over to France to see this exhibit! Thank you so much for sharing!!!
Thank you so much for your insightful article! We love to live vicariously through your adventures and daily life in Paris. Your time and effort are much appreciated!
Brilliant. Thank you for sharing.
For US based folks, this Caillebotte exhibition is coming to the Getty this spring! I had the happy experience of seeing the previous exhibition in 1995 at both the Grand Palais and LACMA and was blown away both times.
Planning to visit this one more than once!
https://www.getty.edu/exhibitions/caillebotte/
Fun and informative as usual. I love being entertained and feel smarter after reading Franklin. Thank you!
Thanks for sharing these exhibits, which I never would have learned of otherwise.
Thank you for this very interesting letter! In the 1970’s, in the UK, we had ‘Brentford Nylons’; a company which seemed to be devoted to eradicating ironing in any shape or form. However, the trade off was that we could all be electrocuted by static electricity every time we moved. Sheets would crackle and spark when you got into bed. The dressing gowns were so stiff they could stand up on their own. But at least we didn’t have to iron them…!
Many thanks once again, monsieur H. Fascinating and most interesting with just the right amount of detail and always that unique sense of humor.
Bonjour, Franklin. Thank you for this wonderful post. I loved my visit to Jouy-en-Josas, to see the musee where toile de Jouy is made. Yarns of historic fabric to admire, and a very tempting gift shop.
Great read, thank you. I still have a problem with superwash yarns, I would like to know how it was made superwash. Some of it I react to so I stick with the “pure” wool yarns as it seems no one wants to disclose or knows that information.
I love this! Thank you for sharing this fabric history from the little museum. I love the musee d’ orsay. It’s my favorite. I grew up in the 70s too with triple snag plastic polyester. Eww.