Category — Clothes and/or shoes

Every week here in Toulouse brings me a new discovery: a tiny shop with the créatrice (designer) sitting at her sewing maching in the middle of it, making brooches and bags, a mercerie (haberdashery) selling exquisite ribbons and buttons, a new walk along a quai where you think you are in Venice, a string of bustling and tightly-packed traditional restaurants, arrayed end to end above the Victor Hugo market.

My latest find is a delightful little shop, a boutique-atelier, at no. 4 Quai de la Daurade, just near Pont Neuf, before the Ecole des Beaux Arts. The intriguing name, Mapie des Vignes made me look twice, as did the sign in the window, ‘Mes créations a vos mesures’ (‘My creations made to your measurements’). Mapie (short for Marie-Pierre) is the name of the shop’s owner/designer, and Mapie des Vignes is her own label.

The concept is that she has several of each of her designs made up in the shop, so that clients can order the pieces they like, made especially to their exact measurements.The designs are stylish and simple, in beautiful natural fabrics, some of which she also sells by the metre.  I bought some orange silk to line a skirt-in-progress, and some black wool threaded through with coloured ribbons, also for a skirt.

The boutique also hosts other créatrices and their collections of textile art—be it brooches, embroidery, jewellery, or other creations. At the time of my visit I saw these beautiful felt brooches, in the shapes of flowers and butterflies. Also in the shop was a colourful range of rings and earrings. There’s absolutely no excuse for anyone in Toulouse to be unable to find the most original  Christmas presents.

Yes, I know this is in Venice, but it was the best picture I have of my French coat.

As our winter in Australia is quite short (even here in Melbourne!) if compared to that of Northern European countries, our winter coats spend a lot of time in spare-bedroom wardrobes, or in storage in garages or attics. So if you buy a coat in France and bring it home (and there are gorgeous coats and fantastic bargains to be had in the sales), you’ll need to be careful or you may be unwittingly providing a wonderful feast for the Australian ‘clothing moth’, and ruining your beautiful coat at the same time.  I found this out the hard way…

When I retrieved my beautiful French winter coat (bought from Boutique Betty in the Place d’Aligre in the 12^th) out of storage in January to take on my trip to France, I was devastated to find it had been damaged by moths. I had stored it, along with several other woollen coats, in a wardrobe in my garage. The garage is weatherproof and dry, but possibly humid after the many storms of last summer and the long unusually wet Melbourne winter that preceded it. The damage was not extensive—and mainly looked like small tears around the sleeve cuffs, with a little less-noticeable damage on the collar.

What I could not understand was why the other wool coats and jackets had escaped any damage at all. One of them even had some evidence of the moths’ eggs, but no damage, which was quite mysterious. The only common factors of the undamaged coats were that they were all made in Australia, had not been used as much as my French coat the previous winter, and had each been dry-cleaned at least once.

When I went to research the clothing moth, correct name Tineola bisselliella, I found that although introduced at some time in the past to Australia, it has not been recorded in France. This would suggest that our wools here are possibly pre-treated to be moth-repellent (an assumption that the CSIRO fact sheet would seem to support), which they are probably not in France; the previous dry-cleaning of the other coats might also be a factor in their non-infestation, as this apparently dries out the fabric, reducing the attractiveness to moths, who like moisture. They also like any presence of human sweat, which would explain why my coat was mostly damaged around the collar and cuffs. It is quite light-coloured and certainly did not look dirty to me, but a few molecules of sweat are probably a feast for a moth caterpillar!

I promptly had the coat dry-cleaned, bought some thread of the exact colour, and mended the tears as invisibly as I could.  I also transferred all the coats to a wardrobe inside the house, which I filled with mothballs. I have since found that lavender bags will do the job just as well and smell much better, so I will be getting some of those (they can refreshed with lavender oil).

So for anyone bringing a coat home to Australia from France, I would recommend getting it dry-cleaned even if you haven’t worn it, and then keeping it in the wardrobe with your current clothes even if it’s high summer here. Oh, and put lavender bags in the pockets and on the coat hanger.

Spring has finally arrived here in Melbourne, giving us the same maximum temperature today as in Paris, so clearly it’s a mild autumn there. Given my penchant for cold weather, I’d much rather be in a Paris autumn than an Australian spring. But as compensation, I have taken out my beautiful French sandals purchased in Paris in July. With my problem with the metatarsophalangeal joint on my right foot, I had been told by my podiatrist earlier in the year to give up high heels, and to wear orthopaedic, ‘comfortable’ shoes, including support under the arch of the foot.

Back in April I started searching in Melbourne for some shoes in this category, but apart from a semi-decent pair of boots, I didn’t find much that I liked. In France, however, where I spent June and some of July, there was an embarrassment of riches. The Mephisto company, in particular, has the most beautiful shoes that are soft and comfortable, with moulded soles. They are made in Alsace. I bought two pairs of sandals, as it was summer in Paris, and that was all I wore during the heatwave in July. The blue ones in the picture were intended for the Australian spring, and are the Ombelle brand, made by the French Samson footwear factory, in operation since 1929.

Comfortable shoes have reached a new priority in my life recently, after breaking my ankle six weeks ago, thanks to my own clumsiness in running down the stairs at home, without holding on to the handrail. Although I had the cast taken off two weeks ago, my foot and ankle are still quite swollen and tender. So it was a joy to put on my beautiful jewel-encrusted Mephisto sandals on this first warm day.

If ever there was a case to be made for the protection and preservation of national industries, in the face of cheaply-made, inferior quality imports, or even overpriced uncomfortable global mega-brands, hand-made French shoes are the prime evidence.