Fabrics

Fabrics are incredibly erotic things.

Naturally, anything you wear close to your body can be erotic. But many fabrics are sensuous, inviting - how many times do we hear the rustle of petticoats in a Regecy romance? Herrick's poetry, which I love, is full of the sound and movement of fabric - 'the liquefaction of her clothes', he says of one of his mistresses' silks. (And underlines it by extending his rhymed couplet into a three-line epigram which flows smoothly to its conclusion.)

One striking encounter - being shown a superb shawl from the early nineteenth century, still with its paisley patterns vibrant and even lurid in colour. You don't realise the sheer size of one of these Norwich shawls till you see them - they're not little scarves, but massive shawls that were intended to almost cover your dress; they are almost unmanageably huge, flowing over your fingers, soft, the colours glowing and the patterns changing as you feel them. Woven on a jacquard loom, they have incredibly intricate patterns. I must do something with a shawl like this, I think... a story starts to emerge!

Another experience, seeing a pashmina drawn through a ring to demonstrate its fineness. If you've ever been in a souk or a bazaar in Turkey, the Middle East, Morocco, India, you'll have seen this done - it's a cliche, but it's still impressive. The wonder of such fine materials is their softness, their thinness - sometimes their transparency, too. They are silent - they don't rustle, or scratch, they simply flow.

So there's a lot for me to think about there. Perhaps, also, some silken rope...

By the way, I was rather pleased recently to find a new (at least to me) review of the Diligence de Lyon - http://www.twolipsreviews.com/content/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4123&Itemid=36. Someone liked it! And I do like the no-spoilers reticence of the reviewer, too.