Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Knit One... Purl One...


If there's one thing Paris is very good at it's putting on a big fair or exhibition. Very often, these fairs are held at the Porte de Versailles convention centre on the south-western edge of the city. Every year, the first thing Matthew does after we arrive is to book his ticket to go to the Retromobile show there, where he spends hours ogling vintage and futuristic cars.

Then, there's the annual agricultural show which fills all the pavilions at the Porte de Versailles with adorable farm animals and all of their products.

This year, something new caught my eye. I saw this brochure in my local wool shop, but then it seemed to involve more than just wool -- something about celebrating "l'aiguille", the needle, a focus on the threads of the Orient, exhibits from around the world? Curiosity piqued, we decided to head down, once again, to the Porte de Versailles to check it out.


We were greeted at the entrance by this exquisite hand embroidered panel from India. "Au fil de l'Orient", indeed! The colors were so bright they almost hurt your eyes. We were "hooked" right away.

Stepping further into the pavilion proper, we found ourselves immediately and completely swept up in a maelstrom of all things sewing, knitting, crocheting, kneedlepoint, cross-stitch, quilting -- anything that involved a needle and thread from the finest silk to the thickest wool!

Overwhelming would be an understatement, and it soon became clear that Matthew was one of maybe three male visitors in the entire place! Good sport that he is, he happily tagged along capturing many of the images here.

Moving to the side aisles where it was less crowded, we came upon these three women on a stage, knitting away, waiting for others to join them in a Speed Knitting competition (I kid you not!)

Before long, there were six pairs of knitting needles flashing furiously for three minutes to find out who could knit the most stiches - the record, apparently, is 220 stitches, but the most any of these brave women recorded was 130! (Maybe a fun activity one day for the Witty Knitters of Inverness?)


 Aisle after aisle featured bolts of pretty fabrics, measured the old fashioned way, with a yardstick.

For those really good with needle and thread,  sewing kits were for sale to make these pretty little girl frocks (I could see Clio in all of these!)

I especially loved all the colors at this stall, which you could buy in small samples.

Of course, if you were planning on doing some sewing, you would need the latest machine to work on -- I thought of my trusty old Singer from 1970 sitting in my house in Inverness, and found this multi-bobbin machine way too intimidating...

But that was nothing compared to this computerized embroidery machine -- you create your design on the computer on the right, load up the colors, select the stitches and press "go" and the machine proceeds to "jabber" its way through the pattern in a mere matter of minutes! All very impressive, but on the other hand, where's the creative satisfaction of just hitting a button and having the machine do the work for you...

Back roaming the aisles, we came across more and more of all the "accessories" that get added to the main materials, things you'll find at the "mercerie" (haberdashery shops)...



...spools of amazing, bright colored cotton and silk threads...



...buttons in all shapes and colors and sizes. These round ones looked good enough to eat!
My pace automatically slowed whenever we came upon a wool display. So many yarn shops in Paris alone, never mind from other parts of France, and from England, Ireland and Scotland!


I couldn't resist a few skeins of this lovely Fonty Merino wool for one of the grandkids, beautiful quality and so many good-looking colors.


This proprietor also sells yak wool, which has to be the softest texture imaginable. His Tibetan supplier reports that the yaks are in trouble there because the world loves pashmina cashmere so much, that the goats that produce that fibre are now eating up all the herbiage, leaving yak numbers to dwindle alarmingly.




But if yak wool was not your choice, there were so many other wools available -- bright beautiful mohair...


...barrels of remaindered cottons and wools...


...sparkly, pretty silk skeins, hanging on a rack...



...and these delicate silk colors that came all the way from China.

If you're not into knitting or sewing garments, then there's always the animal menagerie to tackle. From these crocheted animals...



...to cloth rag dolls with the barest of faces...



...to this adorable appliquéd Little Red Riding Hood and her Grandma/Wolf!

At a central stand, a brisk business was under way in pattern books of all kinds. I was tempted, but then realized they were all in French, and I would have trouble trying to understand "knit one, slip one, psso (pass the slipped stitch over)" in French!

We did pause at this stand, though, right in the centre of the fair. It took us a few minutes to figure it out, then we saw the sign "Pink Bra Bazaar" and realized it was an organization supporting victims of breast cancer. You were invited to sit down and either embroider, crochet or in some other way, decorate these bras, which would then be given to breast cancer patients.


This woman chose to crochet a piece. What a great way to make something pretty and raise consciousness!

And in another part of the fair, we found this little booth, where three delightful grandmothers explained that their organization (Ecole des Grand Parents Européens) knits children's items for families in need. They all three also told us that whenever they knit something for their own grandchildren, it is always with the understanding that once the child outgrows the garment, it must be donated to charity. Spreading the wealth and beauty of hand-made items.



Always sensitive to the needs for a "gouter" (snack), the fair also included a good array of chocolate...



...bread, cakes, cheeses and patés...



...and glorious organic honey from M. Lionel Collomb's apiary at Maubec in the Vaucluse.

By this time, we were ready for something a bit more substantial and headed for the brasserie across the street. On our way out of the fair we took a few minutes to appreciate this intricate work of art by Béatrice Coron -- imaginary towns, buildings, fairy tales, cut out of a synethetic material called tyvek, which resembles paper but is some kind of polyethylene. Not exactly the organic feel of wool, silk, or cotton, but beautiful nonetheless.

Back home, I'm finishing up a pair of pretty socks for Miss Flo, before diving into my new wools and some new projects for the cute grandkids (as long as the parents agree to donate them to charity once they are outgrown....)

À bientôt!

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Rule Brittannia!

The rue du Faubourg Saint Honoré is one of those posh Paris Streets that wanders down from the 16th through the 8th to the 1st arrondissement and beyond. Home to such fancy boutiques as Chanel and Lanvin, Burberry, and many more, it attracts a pretty posh population.

Right in the middle of the 1st arr., above the doorway of no. 39 rue du Faubourg Saint Honoré, a familiar (to Brits) Coat-of-Arms can be spotted embazoned on the wall. Step through these doors, and you find yourself visiting what has been, for the last two hundred years, the official residence of the British Ambassador to France.

Built in the 1720's for the Duke of Charost, a courtier of Louis XV, ownership of the house flitted through a number of aristrocatic families until 1803, when it was purchased by Pauline Borghese, the favorite younger sister of Napoleon Bonaparte.

A dazzling beauty in her day, Pauline attracted admirers by the score, lovers in equal numbers, and two husbands. As the wife of Prince Camillo Borghese, one of richest men in Italy, she spared no expense in furnishing the elegant Hôtel Charost in the finest of silks and trappings, many of which survive to this day.

 She also wasted little time observing the manners and mores of the times. The number of lovers increased to a point where the poor Prince Borghese had her put under house arrest! Adding insult to injury, she also commissioned this nude sculpture, for which she herself posed, by the Florentine artist, Canova. Today, it stands proudly in the lobby of the building, testament perhaps to a true free spirit!

Alas, all good things came to an end with the downfall of Napoleon and his exile to Elba. Pauline Borghese sold the Hôtel Charost in 1814 to the Duke of Wellington, already a highly distinguished general, for 861,500 francs. That same year he was appointed the English Ambassador to France and immediately took up residence. From that time to the present, it has remained the official home of the British Ambassador. It is said that Wellington paid Pauline in installments of Louis d'Or (gold), and that she sent the money to her brother in exile, thus helping finance his dramatic return the following year. If true, there's a certain delicious irony in the thought of the English (Wellington) helping finance Napoleon's return, and then Wellington leading the British army that thoroughly walloped him at the Battle of Waterloo, June 18, 1815 (you cannot make this stuff up!).

When you enter the building today you come face to face with elegant busts of both Napoleon (on the left) and Wellington, an attempt perhaps to signify a rapprochement in a relationship that, from time to time over the centuries, has been more than a little touchy.


 Churchill's there, too, just to keep an eye on things...



...and a very young and lovely Queen Victoria.


Moving into the "Red" Room, you quickly realize that no effort has been spared in these public rooms to keep a sense of Princess Borhese's home.


Gold and red silk chairs, originally a set of 40 in the days of Pauline...



...elegant French chandeliers...



...and the first of several intricate, ornate, gilded clocks.


Moving into the "Blue" Room, your eye is caught almost at once by this dramatic black marble and gilt pendulum clock. A variation on the theme "ars longa, vita brevis", the clock is full of metaphors of the arts, letters and sciences, all living within the framework of the limits of time.

The day we visited, the Blue Room was setting up for a luncheon for a visiting member of the British trade commission. As with most formal British gatherings, place mats rather than tablecloths are the order of the day, allowing the gleam of the table to shine through. I have to confess I found myself wondering if, once the place settings had been laid out, Carson would be appearing with his measuring stick to check that everything was "spot on".

Next door, Princess Borghese's "Salon" features her original choice of furnishings and colors. In her day, it was known as her bedchamber, with perhaps many a secret tryst taking place behind the lovely draped curtains that surround her bed...


...watched over by Egyptian figurines at the corners, and guarded by lions on the top!

Believe it or not, among the public rooms on the ground floor of the residence, there is actually a "Throne Room". We were assured the "throne" is reserved only for the reigning Monarch. If there are official investitures or proclamations to be delivered by the Ambassador, he or she will stand in front and below the throne. Whew!


The elegant 18th century stairway leads the way to the Ambassador's private living quarters.

I loved the detail of the "sunburst faces". Alas, that was as close as we got to the upper levels of the residence!


We were told of the beautiful library up there, dedicated to Duff Cooper, a prominent British diplomat and politican in the early part of the 20th century...

...and of the less formal family sitting rooms, although the elegance of the chandelier and paintings on the walls look pretty grand to me. As in most English homes, though, I would lay pretty good odds that tucked away in the kitchen cupboard there is a jar of Marmite and a tin of Tate & Lyle's Golden Syrup!

For us mere mortals, though, it remained only to see the grand ballroom with its glowing parquet floor and English crystal chandeliers...



...before it was announced that "tea is served" in a tiled hallway looking out onto the extensive gardens.



Here, a very charming young English footman graciously poured us all a "nice cup of tea"...

...and served us delicious Welsh tea cakes, still warm from the oven. Yum!

As we made our way out, I paused for a moment to give a quick nod to HM the Queen herself, who was last here with the Duke of Edinburgh in 2014 to honor of the centenary of the beginning of WWI. She has now surpassed Victoria as Britain's longest reigning monarch. As I stepped out into the bustling rue du Faubourg Honoré, I looked back at this little bit of England in the middle of Paris, and said a quiet "God Save the Queen"!

À bientôt!