Sex and the Village: Sexy Lace Lingerie from Koniakow, Poland
Koniakow, the 500-year-old village in a strongly conservative
southwest part of Poland that produced Pope John Paul II, is
almost totally unreachable during wintertime, particularly heavy
in terms of snowfalls. For two centuries, the women have hooked
thread in intricate crochet patterns to create lace tablecloths
and altar ornaments coveted by royalty across Europe. It was an
art taught by mothers to daughters, done at home after the daily
farming chores were finished, bringing honor and income to the
small local population.
Oval or round, made with tremendous patience and skilled
tablecloths reached tables of kings, aristocrats, bishops and
all those with abundant amounts of money to spend and a desire
to live surrounded with splendor and beauty. Koniakow lace
decorates tables in Vatican, Buckingham Palace, the White House
and many other eminent places.
Then came G-strings. Last fall, some lace makers trying to earn
money spun a racy twist to the art, deciding that underwear
would sell better than doilies. Since, the town of 3,000 has
been in an uproar, neighbor pitted against neighbor over lace
thongs.
"Lace making has always been a way for people to earn money
here," says the 56-year-old mayor of the village, "But since the
strings started, the community has been divided: about money,
about morality, about tradition."
Some traditional lace makers accuse the renegade lace makers of
greed. Others say the thongs defile tradition, are indecent and
promote sex. "Our lace graces Polish altars, the office of our
president and that of the holy pope in Rome," says the president
of a local craft guild of lace makers who has been working with
lace for six decades. "And suddenly, our lace is turning up - I
don't dare say where. How did the lace makers of Koniakow come
to this?"
"Times are tough," say their adversaries in the conflict,
"handkerchiefs and tablecloths don't sell well."
Lace making in Koniakow began in the 19th century when young
women began creating caps of white lace to don after their
weddings. Soon after, say lace makers, women in the town began
to weave tablecloths, altar ornaments, clergy robe collars and
other ornaments that adorn Polish religious and family
occasions, as a way to supplement their income. Like heirlooms,
patterns and lace needles passed through generations.
During communist times, business was good. The community was
supported by the state in official craft guilds and subsidized
as a nationally recognized art. Orders poured in from state-run
stores, prominent officials wanting to use them to present as
official gifts and clergy who used the lace in ceremonies and on
their clothing.
Things changed when communism collapsed in the late 1980s. The
government subsidies stopped and state-store orders dried up.
Borders opened to influence and products from the West. People
became poorer as they lost state jobs in the former
planned-economy.
The scanty underwear some lace makers already were quietly
making for themselves started stirring local debate in June
2004. The suddent shift from religious ornaments to sexy
lingerie was noted by major news sources worldwide. Magazines as
reputable as The Wall Street Journal, The Chicago Tribune and
the New York Times covered the topic and around that time the
thongs have began being available online. Each pair can be made
to a customer's specifications of color and design. Although
this sexy lingerie
is definitely feminine, it stirs interest among men as well,
being unique and sophisticated romantic gift ideas.