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CONTENTS

INDULGE textiles to buy, collect or simply admire 12 PICTURE PERFECT Photographer Bernard Tartinville conjures up the spirit of Marie Antoinette Fashion editor: Thierry Fortin, Hair and make-up: Lise-Anne Marsal 26 CARTOON NETWORK Chantal Chirac’s delightful museum preserves tapestry’s design process

INDUSTRY from craft to commerce 16 STEM CELL Jessica Hemmings discovers business is blooming for makers of artificial flowers, Maison Legeron Creative direction Nelson Sepulveda, photography Mark Eden Schooley 76 CROSSOVER ARTIST Fiona Rutherford on craft, colour and the current tapestry revival Article by Jennifer Harper, photographs by Alun Callender 28 ROYAL STANDARD Manufacture Prelle caters for connoisseurs and kings Written by Geneviève Woods

ANECDOTE textiles that touch our lives 96 FABRIC SWATCH No:22 Gobelins Tapestry Sarah Jane Downing traces the fine lines of these royal works Illustrated by Georgie McAusland 48 A WINDOW ONTO THE NEW WORLD Rhonda Sonnenberg studies Colonial Williamsburg's Historic Embroidery Collection 70 SEWN UP Mary M Brooks highlights embroideries from the Ashmolean’s Feller Collection

COHABIT stunning interiors beautifully photographed 38 TORN FEELINGS For vintage connoisseur Jeanette Philipse parting with her discoveries is a sweet sorrow Photography by Anneke Gambon

GLOBAL textiles from around the world 32 COMMUNITY CARE Aubusson’s tapestry industry came to a standstill but Beth Smith discovers the town is keen to restart it Photographs by Robert Doisneau

ATTIRE critical reporting of fashion trends 53 CASE BY CASE BASIS Anne Laure Camilleri discovers fashion designer Gareth Casey’s commitment

BENEATH THE SURFACE

Kate Cavendish meets Jenny King, an embroiderer whose creativity underpins the catwalk

The relevance of embroidery to fashion trends has often held on by a thread. Embroidery has an established place in bridal gowns, to be sure, or in couture, through the fabled petitesmainsof Maison Lesage. But modern embellishments tend toward folkloric, ethnic patterns with a bohemian vibe, or toward what Paris Vogue terms the “precious embroidery” of this fall’s fairy tale-influenced gowns by Dolce and Gabbana, Alexander McQueen or Valentino, all with fanciful touches of filament.

Jenny King, however, a young master embroiderer, has been plying her needle in a different direction, producing for established designers embroideries that are not only youthful and modern but also glamorous and edgy. And she accomplishes all this with an embroidery machine that’s over 50 years old.

King operates her eponymous company from Brighton, on England’s south coast. She studied textiles and surface decoration at the University of East London, before earning her MA in Mixed Media from the Royal College of Art in 2002. King specializes in what she calls “freehand satin stitch embroidery,” using a hand-guided Irish machine.

The Irish, which has not been in production since the 1960s, functions as an anchoring stitch for King’s work: she asserts that it produces “superior” embroidery to current machines. “There are not many of these machines left in the country and to my knowledge I am one of the only companies left that offers a design and production service on such specialized machines,” she said. “I’ve trained every machinist I have myself as the skills are no longer

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Mary Katrantzou, A/W 2012

being passed down or taught at university level. All our work is done in house. The human element ensures no two embroideries are exactly the same,” King continued. “Natural imperfections that arise as a result of a human being controlling the machine subliminally separate it from the perfection of digital embroidery. Having said that, we do have a digital machine, which we love. It enables us to create embroideries which are impossible to do manually and it also gives us the opportunities to mix new technology with the traditional techniques.”

King wields her Irish like a paintbrush, creating floral embroideries that reveal subtle, exquisite gradations in shading. And although this might sound delicate, King’s embroidery is incorporated by designers to create a strong look. For “textile pioneers” Teatum Jones’ A/W 2014 show, King created silver roses that climbed the sleeve of a silver jacquard windowpane biker jacket, as well as black-and-white roses that punctuated the shoulders of a western shirt-dress.

And for Mary Katrantzou’s iconic “typo” dress, which features an image of a red typewriter on its bodice, King used the Irish’s “velvet stitch”. “We built up layers of satin stitch and then cut through them and pressed them open to reveal the different layers,” she said. “It’s a beautiful technique but very time consuming. The dress was digitally printed and we followed lines within the print – it took days but it looked amazing.” King has also created wallpaper for Stella McCartney and is currently embroidering a dress for Vivienne Westwood.

It’s her relationship with talented designer Erdem 4

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Erdem, A/W 2012

Anne Laure Camilleri admires fashion designer Gareth Casey’s commitment to the individual CASE BY CASE BASIS

“It starts with the fabric. This is the essence of my work,” explains British designer Gareth Casey. He likes natural fibres for their durability and ability to endure his artful finishing processes. The discreet manager of the niche brand is a fashion and textile designer, and an accomplished artisan to boot.

The ascetic and nonchalant look of the garments come from long hours of fine workmanship. A day at the office may include talking to dyers, repairing or cutting fabrics and garments, twisting or stitching garments and fabrics or disassembling and cutting vintage clothes. Unpredictability is expected and so swiftly embraced that tears, rips or stains become new opportunities for creativity. The soft fabrics, impeccable drape and bold embellishments blend into intangible elegance.

Ultimately, “the clothes are meant to be comfortable and easy to wear,” insists Casey. They are typically unpretentious but finely constructed and individual. The designer says his work habits reflect his inner personality, further admitting he’s impulsive and not too organized. But he’s found a balance. Four days a week, he supervises his team in his Paris studio, then he heads home to the quiet Berry Region to work on his creations by himself. He clearly appreciates his freedom to create all year round, and his collections convey this dedication to craft. It all starts on the power loom, selecting the best yarn and getting the best possible weave structure.

Casey was born in the mid 1960s in Hitchin, England and grew up in Australia. When his family returned to England in the late 1980s, he attended the University of Brighton, receiving a Fashion and Textile Design degree four years later. “As a student, I had to do a one-year internship before graduating and could not find a position. I spent two weeks in Paris showing my portfolio to labels such as JeanPaul Gaultier, Castelbajac and Yohji Yamamoto; but no one would hire me. I got a last minute interview at Marithé & François Girbaud and it didn’t work out either. I was about to leave when Marithé and François Girbaud walked in and looked at my portfolio. François asked me if I had my passport and three hours later we flew to Italy to work on his collections. After I graduated in 1991, they offered me a job. I was François’ assistant for two years and began to work directly with mills. Then I became a freelance designer.”

Casey spent the next five years traveling and working for magazines and fashion photographers. He spent time in India and Nepal where he fell ill and had to be medically evacuated to England. In 1998, he settled in Paris: “I specialized in printed textiles and oversaw production for different mills. I began to create my own clothes using fabrics I designed and I teamed up with Philippe Vidalenc, a photographer who had a passion for transforming textiles. We cut our first patterns in 1999.” The duo launched their label Casey Vidalenc in 2000 and when Vidalenc left in 2007 it was renamed Casey Casey.

They started with little to no money and strove to get quality fabrics that could be washed, dyed, boiled and twisted: “We scoured flea markets in search of vintage fabrics and some mills gave us bolts of cotton fabric they’d had for thirty years. We spent more time on the road than cutting patterns.”Getting the right colour was another challenge. “We had to dye the fabrics to get the colours we wanted. Then we tried felting and we became known for transforming fabrics and for using repurposed materials. We made some garments with furnishing fabrics that we softened using lightweight plastic balls to avoid damaging the fabric.”

The turning point was in 2001 when Casey attended London Fashion Week for the first time, sharing a showroom with two other labels: “We didn’t have one visitor. It was really depressing. An old friend of mine suggested I call the London boutique Egg. I literally begged her to see me, and she took a few pieces. She’s still one of our most important retailers.” Further recognition came when Rei Kawakubo, the founder of Dover Street Market, invited the new label to the Ginza market.

As their business grew, Casey had to take on new responsibilities. “I never thought I would be running my own company one day, it’s really not in my DNA. But it comes with the expansion of the brand.” In his early career, he had the skills to design different types of textiles, but designing clothes wasn’t on his mind yet: “When I was a student, patternmaking seemed so boring, I was certain I would never need it. I was completely focused on fabric construction, colour and weave designs. I can “destroy” a fabric structure and use the cloth in a different way. But my designs were always connected to fashion and in relation to the body, drape and transparency. I became interested in fashion design just a few years ago. I love creating and shaping things using 4

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F EEL I NG RUFFLED

Sarah Jane Downing explores the rise and fall of a stand out fashion

The long and prosperous reign of Queen Elizabeth allowed for fashion to blossom into an abundance of adornment, in colours and fabrics that had never been seen before. Such brilliance brought with it many new status symbols such as silk stockings that clung to the contours of the leg, or a watch known as a ‘dyle’; but it was the ruff that was to become the defining feature of the age. Whilst a modest ruff may have been the era’s equivalent of a white collar and tie, denoting an upstanding citizen, practically all that exceeded in size or decoration were subject to controversy, sumptuary laws and vocal denouncement by the moralists of the day.

Before it developed into the iconic rigid cake frill style, the ruff began as the decorative edge at the neckline of the smock. One of the earliest examples was illustrated by Raphael as part of the costume of an Italian nobleman c1510-20 wearing a smock or shirt gathered into a narrow neckband topped by a small frill. Smocks – the undergarment for both women and men – fastened at the neck en couliss with a cord drawn through a channel that, when tied, left a frill above it: by the reign of Edward VI this had become a popular site for decoration with embroidery or lace.

After 1560 the ruff was made as a separate band from a long strip of fine linen or lawn, varied in width and was anywhere from 1.5 to 6 yards long to give ample fullness. The outer edge was decorat-

ed with embroidery, cutwork or lace, whilst the inner edge was threaded with a string that, when drawn tight, created both the folds of the ruff and the method of fastening it at the front. A cord could also be stitched at the outer edge of the ruffle adding a certain stiffness, and a charming wibbley effect.

Queen Elizabeth appointed William Boonen as her coachman in 1560, unaware that his wife would bring with her from her native Flanders a secret that was as important to fashion as

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The Judgement of Soloman, Early to mid 17th century, 17 x 27cm

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raised work contrast with the smooth tent stitch surface. Metal threads have been used for Solomon’s crown and sceptre, the carpet and highlight details in the garments, snail and butterfly. An unusual metal thread, made with both a fine metal strip and wire, appears in the elaborate rocks.

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One delightfully individual interpretation reduces the story to the bare essentials. The flat tent-stitched clothing has realistic detailing; applied needle lace sections form the collars and cuffs while the bows are tiny plaits. Remains of an iridescent feather filament thread are evident on the caterpillars.

Elizabeth and Micheál Feller’s textile collection contains notable examples of all stages of the embroiderer’s journey, together with professional pieces which include an intriguing ‘sampler’ collection of motifs and striking glove gauntlets. Developed over many years this collection demonstrates their pleasure in the embroiderers’ skills, a true love of colour and a willingness to embrace the more unusual designs. The Feller collection spans the full spectrum of subjects and techniques and the different uses of embroidery, from decorative panels to intricately worked coifs and purses to a box and mirror. They attest to the extraordinary level of skill achieved by girls and women. Mary M Brooks In an act of extraordinary generosity, the Fellers have donated these embroideries to the Ashmolean Museum, Beaumont Street, Oxford OX1 2PH, T: +44 (0)1865 278 000, www.ashmolean.org

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Opposite: Self-portrait aged 30, 1577, Nicholas Hilliard

Below: Sir Francis Drake, 1581, Nicholas Hilliard alchemy was to Elizabethan science – starch. With its ability to stiffen soft folds, starch was promptly denounced by the puritans of the day as the ‘Devil’s Liquor’; yet, unperturbed, the fashionable were willing to pay handsomely for it, as it allowed for almost any size of ruff to be created.

‘Setting’ a ruff was a fine art. Intricate and labour intensive, each flute was set with a ‘poking stick’ made of wood or bone. This was pushed into each fold and carefully smoothed to create a figure of eight formation. Steel poking sticks first became available in 1573 and these were more efficient. They gave a better effect and the ruff size was able to increase – time saved could be dedicated to setting the matching hand ruffs.

The linen band was first washed and allowed to dry before being carefully pasted with the starch solution that had the consistency of wallpaper paste. It was dried again, then dampened before being tied onto a wooden ruff stand to gain the correct neck circumference. A steel poking stick heated in a charcoal brazier, or fire, was then

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pressed into each flute and held until the starch solution dried leaving the set fresh and crisp.

In time ruffs reached prodigious proportions, as was recorded during the 1580s: ‘some be a quarter of a yard deep,

so that they stand a full quarter of a yard or more from their necks.’ This display enraged moralists who were quick to avow that such pride was a sin against God and profligacy was even worse when the money could be used to do God’s work for the poor. They were incensed further when the turn of the century brought a vogue for wearing treble ruffs: ‘a more monstrous kind of ruff, of twelve, yea, sixteen lengths apiece, set three or four times double,thence called three steps and a half to the gallows.’ The suggestion was that where such sins began, an ignominious end on the gallows would surely follow! 4