Pretty little delicacies of silk

If you have been to the Central Highlands in Vietnam, it is very likely that you’ve visited Dalat, a town touted as Vietnam’s mini Europe. And if you’ve been to Dalat you must have visited Crazy House. It is aptly named, although mere words cannot adequately describe it; a picture is worth a thousand. 

Handicrafts are sold in several of the public rooms, but there is a Mai Anh Craft gift shop in the garden where, much to my motorcycle driver’s consternation, I spent at least half an hour browsing amongst the silk goods. It took a moment to decide to purchase the pretty belt pictured above that fastens with silk cord around the hips. Made of ovals of coloured silk, it is embroidered; appliquéd with silk baubles; and trimmed with sequins.

I was also trying to choose between two silk necklaces. One of them was impossibly tangled up, and it took the salesgirl at least 20 minutes to unravel the knots. Of course no sooner than she had done so and I tried it on, I realised that I much preferred the other: the butterfly and ladybug necklace you see below. I apologised laughingly, for as the Vietnamese are fond of saying it was really a case of “Same, same, but different.”

But I had to be sure.

Cloisonné Kitties

Whenever I wear these sweet enamel earrings I am complimented, from giggling young beauty therapists in District 1, to more jaded waitresses in Windsor. I rescued them from a jewellery stall at Ben Thanh Market in Saigon. The said therapists were thrilled to learn they could buy their own right there in Saigon, for less than US$5.

Cloisonné is an ancient metalworking technique of pouring liquid enamel into compartments formed by thin bands of metal. It was first developed in the Near East, and then spread to the Byzantine Empire (one of my favourite periods in art) and on to China via the Silk Road. Here are some examples:

Clockwise from top left: cuff, 9th–10th century, Museum of Byzantine Culture in Thessaloniki; Jen Forland Designs earrings from etsy.com; egg cup by Slatikov, Moscow ca 1900; making cloisonné, from cultural-china.com; Water Lilies by Greig Steiner. As for the woven ribbon cushion, I snatched that up at the Salvos for $2. I was rather amused to see the prior owner’s cat had mangled it in patches, overzealously kneading its paws no doubt. An appropriate backdrop for my sedate little kitties then.

Blue and white wares

This elaborate concoction of blue and white beads is fit for a summer of flitting about a Greek island, robed in an empire-line gown and delicate leather sandals.

Alas that adventure is not on my horizon!

I strung this necklace together, inspired by the blue and white Chinese porcelain beads. The heart-shaped focal bead features two peacocks, tails spread and touching beaks. Lapis lazuli; both blue and white pearls in varying shapes; dumortierite and sodalite (both of which are cheaper substitutes for lapis lazuli); blue crystal quartz, and Indian bone beads make up the rest of the necklace. The beads on the earrings are suspended from sterling silver chandelier findings.

There is something luxurious
in wearing beads that are
so fragile.

There is something luxurious in wearing beads that are so fragile: there is the danger of destruction if it should slip from my fingers; a weight round my neck in more ways than one.

Cinderella’s slippers

The first time I marched purposefully into the central corridor of Ben Thanh Market in Saigon, I saw a stall arrayed in beaded slippers of every colour imaginable. Then and there I decided I must own a pair.

It behoved me first to scout the entire market so I could distribute my available funds appropriately amongst other worthy merchants. When I finally returned to the beaded slippers stall, I was directed to sit on a camping stool whilst the shoes of my choice were fetched for me to try on. (I was not given a cushion such as the one pictured above to rest my dainty foot on; rather a piece of cardboard.)

…like Cinderella’s sister,
I could not stuff my fat foot into that little delicacy…

The first pair that caught my eye was a lovely watery aquamarine, but like Cinderella’s sister, I could not stuff my fat foot into that little delicacy, and lamentably they did not have a larger size. My second choice was a pair in silver satin, embroidered with white and silver beads. I almost decided on those when these utterly fantastical pink slippers caught my eye. They were the ONES.

It was the same when I found this plump, silk cushion in another boutique. I instantly decided I must have it, but chewed my lip wondering how on earth I would stuff it into my bag to get it home? I knew the bag would be full to bursting already with all my acquisitions. However, it didn’t take much for the Vietnamese salesgirl to convince me it would be easy. Look how soft it is! She pantomimed squishing the thing in half. Sold.

Of course it wasn’t that easy, but since shopping fever had lead me astray, I would find a way. I was much more determined than Cinderella’s sisters!

Change, anyone?

It’s been a long time since Australians used any copper coins, but that’s what my fingers smell like when I handle this necklace.

I bought this Baroque-style pendant as an art student from a second hand shop somewhere, when funds were scarce. I am sure I paid mere pennies for it too. That was in the days before everyone was scouring op shops for treasures cradled amongst the dross; when jewellery was piled in a heap, not hung on proper shop fittings.

Then, I loved its intricate curlicues and textured surface; the warm tone of the copper. Because it was made from an inferior metal, I imagined it was made by a jewellery student. I liked that notion: a first year student’s piece inherited by another impecunious art student.

In those days I wore it often (and found it dirtied my tops); now it resides in a jewellery box waiting for a renaissance.