It’s now time to sit back comfortably and relax, as I’m about to tell you a story. It starts as a fairytale, but as it gently unwraps it takes a slightly darker turn and who knows how it will end?
Centuries ago, in the far away land of China, a princess was having her afternoon tea under the mulberry trees of her palace gardens.
As she was about to take a sip, something fell from the branches, right down her steaming cup. It was a white cocoon, born out of the caterpillars feeding on the mulberry leaves.
Naturally, the princess tried to take the cocoon out of her teacup, but as she was trying to do so, she noticed the hot water caused the small white egg to unravel into one long, fine and beautiful thread. And that my friends, is how silk was discovered.
The Chinese court soon perfected the process of extraction of the silk thread and as for the princess, she became Leizu – Goddess of silk in the Chinese mythology.
For centuries, silk was mainly produced in China, slowly paving the way of the famous Silk Road and up to this day Asia (India, Japan, Thailand) remains main driving force in silk manufacture.
The silk cocoons were so special, it was against the law to export them outside of China, so foreigners would go to extra lengths trying to steal the secret of the luxurious fabric. One of the most common tales is of monks who hid the cocoons in their hollow walking canes, successfully transporting them to Byzantium.
Why is silk so desired? Well, for starters it’s natural, hypoallergenic, strong and it feels incredibly soft on the skin. It is also used in medicine and despite its troubled supply chain, it is still considered luxurious fabric, just as it was back in the day, when Leizu presented the first silk garment to the Emperor.
What Leizu discovered is still valid: to make silk you start from a bug in hot water. You need to feed the silk caterpillars with mulberry leaves and once they fatten up, they lay eggs. Each egg, called a cocoon, is made by the glands of the caterpillar and consists of one single long tread. That thread is extracted once the larvae is boiled alive and the cocoon unravels. To make the fiber stronger, several threads are combined together. Here is how some people can get confused, because that thread can be woven in different ways, creating silk sateen, chiffon, taffeta, or crepe de chine. So silk itself is the raw material, but the fabric is called after the type of weave you use.
What Leizu could probably never imagine is that silk would grow outside of its small artisanal production, spanning outside the Silk Road into a vast, international and almost untraceable supply chain, rugged with middlemen and bled dry by volatile prices and unethical procedures.
Perhaps no one from our ancestors could expect that the Earth could stop giving us food, but the constant planting of mulberry trees is actually rendering the soil unfertile.
As time passes, we also become more and more aware of animal cruelty practices and boiling a larvae alive is definitely not a peaceful way to start any production.
Since humans always meddle in nature’s business, we have come full circle, as our actions affect the climate, which in turn affects the growth of mulberry trees. So we use pesticides to protect the leaves and the caterpillars, essentially poisoning other species and we also use toxic chemicals in the degumming process of the fibers.
And so, the fairytale slowly turned into a big global machine, devouring people, land and animals along its way.
Leizu’s court was producing limited amount of garments available only for the Emperor and dignitaries. Their secret was well guarded, concentrated in the refinements of the royal court, whereas craftsmanship was perfected, making silk a real epitome of luxury.
In our modern days, this fairytale sounds out of touch and hence, we can ask the question: now that we know how flawed the supply chain is, can we still say silk is luxurious?
Are the fabrics attributes the only thing to make it special, or should we look at the whole picture before we draw conclusions?
As we shop for silk pillowcases, night masks, pajamas and dresses, how long until environmental and ethical issues rip through the softness and cool touch of the material and start scratching our skin?
Katya xx
