Koniakow, the 500-year-old town in a very conservative part of southwestern Poland that produced Pope John Paul II, is almost totally unreachable during winter, particularly heavy in terms of snowfall. For two centuries, women have hooked threads into intricate crochet patterns to create lace tablecloths and altar ornaments coveted by royalty across Europe. It was an art taught by mothers to daughters, made at home after the daily agricultural chores were finished, bringing honor and income to the small local population.
Oval or round, made with tremendous patience and skillful tablecloths, they reached the tables of kings, aristocrats, bishops and all those with abundant amounts of money to spend and the desire to live surrounded by splendor and beauty. Koniakow lace decorates tables in the Vatican, Buckingham Palace, the White House and many other eminent places.
Then came the G strings. Last fall, some money-making lace makers put a spicy spin on the art and decided that underwear would sell better than rugs. Since then, the town of 3,000 has been on a rampage, neighbor pitted neighbor over lace thongs.
“Lace making has always been a way for people to earn money here,” says the 56-year-old village mayor, “but since the threads began, the community has been divided: over money, over morality , by tradition. “
Some traditional lacemakers accuse renegade lacemakers of greed. Others say that the leashes contaminate tradition, are indecent and promote sex. “Our lace adorns Polish altars, the office of our president and that of the holy pope in Rome,” says the president of a guild of local lace artisans that has worked with lace for six decades. “And suddenly our lace is showing up, I don’t dare say where. How did the Koniakow lacemakers come to this?”
“Times are tough,” say his 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 white lace caps to wear after their weddings. Soon after, the lacemakers say, the women of the city began weaving tablecloths, altar ornaments, priest’s robe collars and other ornaments that adorn Polish religious and family occasions, as a way to supplement their income. As relics, lace patterns and needles were passed down from generation to generation.
During the communist era, business was good. The community was supported by the state in official craft unions and subsidized as a nationally recognized art. Orders came from state stores, prominent officials wanted to use them to present as official gifts, and clergy who wore the lace in ceremonies and on their clothing.
Things changed when communism collapsed in the late 1980s. Government subsidies ceased and orders from state stores dried up. Frontiers open to influences and products from the West. People became impoverished by losing state jobs in the old planned economy.
The scant underwear that some lace makers were already quietly making for themselves began sparking a local debate in June 2004. The sudden shift from religious adornments to sexy lingerie was noted by major news sources around the world. Reputable magazines such as The Wall Street Journal, The Chicago Tribune, and The New York Times covered the subject, and in that era, thongs have become available online. Each pair can be manufactured to customer’s design and color specifications. Although lingerie is definitely feminine, it also arouses interest among men, being unique and sophisticated romantic gift ideas.
