The rich history of the most precious textile: cloth of gold
In Greek mythology, the golden fleece belonged to a winged ram sent to save the children of the king of Thessaly from their murderous stepmother. The ram rescued the son, Phrixos, but the daughter, Helle, slipped off the animal’s back mid-flight and drowned in the strait that became known as the Hellespont (now the Dardanelles). For its efforts, the ram was sacrificed to the gods, immortalised as the constellation Aries, while its fleece became a symbol of power, inspiring generations of weavers and embroiderers to recreate its shining locks for royal wearers.
A Roman woman – possibly the wife of one of Britain’s last Roman rulers – was buried in a robe of Chinese silk and golden thread near Spitalfields sometime around 360 AD. More recently, King Charles III was coronated in the long-sleeved, cloth-of-gold ‘supertunica’ originally created for George V in 1911.
Originally, cloth of gold was created by hammering fine lengths of gold and then wrapping them very tightly around a core thread, usually silk. This metallic thread was then woven into cloth that glimmered and shone as it moved with the wearer’s body. The process was painstaking and delicate, requiring a long apprenticeship, and each single length of cloth was ordered individually. As a conspicuous form of consumption, it was unsurpassed.
Cloth of gold is an even rarer commodity today than it was in its heyday: the 14th and 15th centuries in southern European cities. Few of us will see real cloth of gold; a mere handful will ever wear it. No one could imitate the young kings King Henry VIII and Francois I and lavish it on temporary dwellings at the Field of the Cloth of Gold.
‘Arkose’ cushion, £210, Black Edition
Still, for those entranced by the very idea of it and who crave its glamour and lustre, and its molten shimmer by candlelight, there are alternatives. Anyone wishing to go all out could turn entire rooms into golden bowers, as Giorgio Armani did at the Salone del Mobile in Milan earlier this year.
The best way to do this without risking total tackiness is to use something really textured, such as an embossed wallcovering or nubbly linen fabric, or to concentrate on a defined area. The latter option was used to great effect in the bathroom at Eltham Palace, with its mosaic-tiled bath niche.
A similar technique would look equally wonderful in a kitchen, using gold tiles as a splashback. For those wishing to stick more faithfully to the cloth-of-gold theme, the French textile firm Toyine has a good selection of highly textured, lurex-flecked linens that would work exceptionally well as upholstery fabrics. It’s a potent statement of power; sacrificial rams need not apply.
