Chapitre 1
The Golden Thread: Weaving Humanity's Story Through Time
Have you ever glanced down at the fabric enveloping your body and wondered about the invisible hands that created it? The humble threads that keep you warm, protected, and socially presentable have shaped human destiny more profoundly than stone tools or pottery. From the 34,000-year-old dyed fibers discovered in a Georgian cave to the high-tech fabrics that enabled moonwalks, textiles have been our constant companions through history's greatest triumphs and darkest hours. In Kassia St. Clair's "The Golden Thread," this often-overlooked material emerges as perhaps humanity's most transformative technology-one that allowed us to inhabit inhospitable regions, facilitated cross-cultural exchanges through vast trade networks, and ultimately powered the Industrial Revolution itself. The book has garnered praise from historians and fashion enthusiasts alike, with The Economist calling it "extraordinary" and The Sunday Times praising its "fascinating combination of social history, science, and politics." As we face growing concerns about fast fashion's environmental impact and labor practices, St. Clair's exploration of our textile heritage offers timely insights into how these seemingly simple materials continue to shape our world.
Chapitre 2
From Prehistoric Fibers to Human Survival
The ancient Greeks believed human destiny was controlled by the Fates-three mythological sisters who determined life's course through spinning, measuring, and cutting thread. This metaphor persists in our language when we speak of lives "hanging by a thread" or social "fabric" being torn apart. Such linguistic connections aren't mere coincidence; they reflect how fundamentally textiles have shaped human existence.
In 2009, botanist Eliso Kvavadze made an extraordinary discovery while examining Neolithic pollen samples from Dzudzuana cave in Georgia's Caucasus Mountains. Hidden among the samples were microscopic fibers dating back 34,000 years-the oldest known human-made textile fragments. These weren't crude attempts at fiber-making but sophisticated creations. The thousand-plus specimens included spun and twisted threads with "two-ply S-twisted" patterns indicating mastery of balanced yarn creation. Most remarkably, many were dyed in vibrant colors-turquoise, yellow, red, blue violet, even pink-suggesting sophisticated knowledge of plant-based dyes millennia before we thought possible.
Why did our ancestors invest such effort in creating textiles? The answer lies in our unique vulnerability. An unclothed human begins feeling chilly at 80F, with potentially fatal hypothermia setting in below 95F core temperature. Unlike other mammals, we lack protective fur-a trait that evolved somewhere between 42,000-72,000 years ago according to genetic studies of body lice. This timing coincides with human migration from Africa into colder regions, where our hairlessness became a serious liability.
While animal pelts provided initial protection, woven fabrics ultimately proved superior by trapping insulating air layers close to the body while remaining breathable-crucial advantages during the harsh temperature swings of the last ice age when winter temperatures could drop below -4F in human habitation areas. The Dzudzuana threads were made from wild flax, requiring an elaborate process: uprooting plants at precisely the right moment, "rippling" to remove leaves, retting in stagnant water to break down woody outer stalks, drying, "scutching and heckling" (beating and combing) to remove stalk fragments, and finally spinning the resulting bast fibers into linen.
This technological sophistication revolutionized human capabilities. As Elizabeth Wayland Barber notes, even simple string was transformative: "You can tie things up in packages so you can carry more. You can put out nets and snares to catch more game so you can eat better." These innovations enabled our ancestors to gather more food, travel farther, and settle in previously uninhabitable regions-literally threading together the expansion of human civilization.
Chapitre 3
Sacred Threads: Linen and the Egyptian Afterlife
When Howard Carter broke through into Tutankhamun's tomb in November 1922, he glimpsed "wonderful things" by candlelight. After years of disappointment, his excavation had finally uncovered an intact royal burial. The methodical excavation proceeded over three years, culminating in the unwrapping of Tutankhamun's mummy in November 1925. The body was encased in sixteen layers of linen wrappings, some deteriorated to soot-like texture. Despite recording details about the bandages, Carter considered the textiles disappointing compared to the treasures they concealed. Many wrappings were treated with paraffin wax to facilitate removal and subsequently destroyed.
This dismissive attitude toward the linens contradicted ancient Egyptian beliefs, for whom linen possessed powerful, even magical significance. Egypt's arid climate has preserved textile evidence spanning seven millennia, offering extraordinary insights into ancient linen production. The quality varied dramatically-one specimen examined by the Metropolitan Museum contained 200 by 100 threads per square inch, while another from Hatnofer's tomb measured 1.7 by 5.5 yards yet weighed just 5 ounces.
Flax cultivation followed the Nile's rhythm-seeds were sown after the river's annual retreat left nutrient-rich soil. For fine thread, stems would be harvested while still green in March. The resulting fibers averaged fifteen microns in diameter-comparable to modern machinery's best output. Almost all Egyptian linen used S-twisted (counterclockwise) threads, following flax's natural drying pattern. Until Roman times, Egyptians uniquely used no distaffs, instead winding thread directly onto spindles or into balls.
Flax was fundamental to ancient Egyptian economy and culture. Tomb walls proudly displayed harvest yields in the tens of thousands of bundles. Linen functioned as currency, traded for cedar wood from Byblos or copper from Alashiya. Its practical advantages were numerous: it conducted heat well, making it ideal for Egypt's climate; it was twice as strong as cotton and four times stronger than wool; and it softened beautifully with age and washing.
Culturally, linen symbolized purity and cleanliness, typically bleached white using natron and sunlight. In death, linen was equally crucial. The embalming process incorporated elaborate linen wrapping performed by "masters of secrets"-priests who had purified themselves by shaving, washing, and donning fresh linen. The wrapping process incorporated amulets between layers, with the finest linen reserved for innermost and outermost layers.
The ancient Egyptians' linguistic precision regarding mummification reveals its cultural significance. They used distinct verbs for different wrapping actions and had various terms for bodies at different stages. While conventional wisdom suggests mummification merely preserved bodies for the afterlife, this perspective diminishes the significance of the wrappings themselves. Through wrapping, humans were literally sculpted into divine forms worthy of veneration-the linen wasn't just preservative but transformative.
Chapitre 4
Silk Roads: The Threads That Connected Civilizations
In fourth-century China, Su Hui transformed her heartbreak into an extraordinary work of textile art. When her beloved husband was exiled and promptly took a concubine despite his professed love, Su Hui channeled her wounded pride and grief into creating the "Star Gauge," an intricately embroidered silk poem. This masterpiece took the form of a 29x29 character grid meticulously embroidered in five colors on silk, structured like the concentric rings of an armillary sphere. Unlike conventional poetry, Su Hui's creation exploited the unique quality of Chinese characters to be read in any direction, allowing readers to traverse the text horizontally, vertically, or diagonally to discover different poems. The work contained over three thousand possible readings, with its backbone of seven-character phrases alone generating 2,848 potential poems.
The legendary origins of silk production begin with Empress Xiling's cup of tea, into which fell a cocoon that dissolved and revealed continuous silk threads. The reality is far more demanding-raising Bombyx mori silkworms requires constant attention through their 40-60 day lifecycle. The caterpillars consume enormous quantities of mulberry leaves, are susceptible to various diseases, and must be carefully tended. After cocoon formation, most chrysalises are killed by steaming before the silk is harvested, with each worm producing a single thread up to 1,100 yards long.
China maintained exclusive control of silk production for five millennia, with archaeological evidence dating back 8,500 years. The Han Chinese employed silk as a diplomatic weapon against the feared Xiongnu nomads who terrorized northern China. Under the "tributary system," Chinese princesses were married to Xiongnu leaders, borders were established at the Great Wall, and most crucially, lavish silk gifts were exchanged annually. These exchanges grew increasingly expensive-from 8,000 silk pieces in 51 BC to 18,000 by AD 33-functioning essentially as protection payments.
The Silk Roads weren't a single path but a shifting network of routes primarily flowing east to west, named by 19th-century geographer Baron Ferdinand von Richthofen. While silk was important, it represented just a fraction of traded goods. These routes connected China with Central Asia, India, and the Mediterranean, peaking in influence during several periods between 100 BC and the 14th century. Merchants braved extreme conditions in the Gobi Desert, relying on hardy Bactrian camels that could sense approaching sandstorms. Cities along these routes, like Palmyra (the "Venice of the Sands"), grew wealthy and culturally diverse, while religions including Buddhism, Islam, and Christianity spread alongside goods.
In late first-century Rome, silk became emblematic of societal excess. Martial advised using pins to secure hairstyles to protect silk garments, while Pliny lamented emperors spending 100 million sesterces annually on eastern silks-roughly 10% of Rome's budget. Conservative Romans feared silk would undermine their martial spirit, with Pliny bemoaning that "even men will wear silk clothing in summer because of its lightness." Silk was condemned as decadent, with Horace describing prostitutes as early adopters of the revealing fabric. Seneca fumed that silk could hardly be called clothing when it "offers nothing that could possibly afford protection to the body or provide any modesty."
Chapitre 5
Viking Wool: How Sheep Powered Maritime Expansion
The Vikings' maritime prowess was central to their culture, with ships playing vital roles in both life and death. In 1879, two Norwegian teenagers discovered the Gokstad ship while digging in the "King's Mound" near Sandefjord. Built around 850 AD and buried as part of a lavish funeral, this Viking longship was remarkably preserved by a thick layer of blue clay. The vessel-now housed in Oslo's Viking Ship Museum-is over 76 feet long, surprisingly light at just seven tons, with sixteen oar holes per side and remnants of a white and red woolen sail.
These "surf-dragons," as they were poetically called in Icelandic sagas, weren't mere transportation but symbols of power and pride. According to legend, King Olaf's "Long Serpent" could carry two hundred armed men with thirty-four pairs of oarsmen. Norse mythology celebrated the ultimate ship-Skithblathnir-built by dwarves for the god Frey. This magical vessel could carry all Norse gods yet fold up like cloth, and its sails summoned perfect winds for any journey.
The discovery of ancient sailcloth fragments in Trondenes church in Norway revealed that Viking sails were made from wool-seemingly an unlikely material for catching wind. Despite wool's natural warmth and tendency to absorb water, woolen sails remained standard for Norse vessels until the twentieth century. The wool came from primitive North Atlantic sheep breeds-small, hardy animals about half the size of modern sheep. These Old Norse sheep had distinctive double-layered fleeces with wiry outer coats and soft underwool, plus high lanolin content making them naturally water-repellent.
During winter, families processed the wool, separating the outer fleece from the underwool. Women then spun two different types of yarn: tightly spun clockwise outer fibers for the waterproof warp threads, and loosely spun counterclockwise underwool for the weft. A single large sail required about two and a half years of modern working time to produce.
The effectiveness of Viking woolen sails was remarkable. Once woven, the cloth underwent fulling to stabilize its size. The finishing touch was a two-stage process called smorring: first brushing the fabric with horse fat or fish oil mixed with reddish ocher, then coating it with hot beef tallow or fir tar. This treatment reduced airflow through the sail to nearly zero, dramatically increasing its effectiveness. Well-maintained sails could last forty to fifty years.
While two skilled shipwrights could build a longboat in a fortnight, creating a sail required two skilled women a full year or more. Modern recreations of Viking ships have proven surprisingly effective, able to sail within fifty degrees of the wind-nearly matching modern sailing vessels.
The Vikings' dependence on wool extended far beyond their sails. This need for wool may have driven Viking expansion. Outfitting a standard cargo ship and crew required over 114 pounds of wool and ten years' labor. A large warship with seventy men demanded a staggering one and a half tons of wool and sixty years' labor. With each Old Norse sheep yielding only 2-5 pounds annually (just 18 ounces suitable for sailcloth), the Norwegian Viking fleet alone required wool from up to two million sheep. This spiraling demand for wool, sheep, and grazing land may have partially motivated their aggressive expansion into Normandy, Greenland, and America.
Chapitre 6
From White Gold to King's Ransom: Wool's Economic Power
Robin Hood's iconic Lincoln Green clothing carried deep significance for medieval audiences. Lincoln was a major wool trade center renowned for its high-quality cloth and distinctive green dye. In a society where clothing strictly defined social status, Robin's access to fine fabrics despite living as an outlaw highlighted his mysterious wealth and power.
Wool was so abundant in medieval England that a 13th-century French poet used the expression "carrying wool to England" as we might say "carrying coal to Newcastle." This versatile, affordable fiber permeated every aspect of English life-from the simple wool-filled dwellings of the poor to the luxurious tapestries adorning wealthy homes.
After the Norman Conquest in 1066, the new rulers meticulously cataloged England's resources in the Domesday Book, recognizing wool's economic importance. They reorganized wool farming, with major landowners amassing enormous flocks-the Bishop of Winchester owned 29,000 sheep in the early 14th century, while the Earl of Lincoln possessed 13,400.
The wool trade transformed England into a European economic powerhouse. As the fifteenth-century merchant's motto proclaimed: "I praise God, and ever shall, It is the sheep hath paid for all." England's wool reputation stretched back centuries-even Charlemagne wrote to King Offa of Mercia in 796 requesting northern English woolen cloaks "as they used to come to us in old times." Though England produced exceptional wool, the finest cloth came from Flemish and Florentine workshops using imported English raw materials.
The Cistercian Order, founded in 1098, was distinguished by their white, undyed habits and preference for remote locations ideal for sheep rearing. Their success in the wool trade led to an insatiable appetite for land, often buying estates from the indebted. By the fourteenth century, Cistercian monasteries dominated wool production, commanding higher prices through superior husbandry and economies of scale.
Richard the Lionheart, though beloved as "Good King Richard," spent most of his reign away fighting, speaking no English and constantly seeking funds for warfare. After his capture returning from the Third Crusade, his ransom of 100,000-over twice the annual royal income-required extraordinary measures. His justiciars levied a 25% tax on income and movable property, seized church silver, and critically, targeted the Cistercians' wool, their chief means of support. This confiscation devastated monasteries that had already sold wool futures to foreign merchants, plunging them into decades of debt. Wool had become the engine of England's finances, enabling everything from Richard's crusading adventures to the widening gap between rich and poor.
Chapitre 7
Cotton's Dark Empire: Threads of Slavery and Industry
Runaway slave advertisements from the 18th and 19th centuries reveal an obsession with clothing details. When Solomon fled Georgia in 1851, his owner John Duncan noted his entire wardrobe: "two pair new copperas pants, one black jeans frock coat, one red and black sack [coat], one walnut-died sack coat, one black fur hat, one pair store shoes." Over three-quarters of runaway notices mentioned clothing, which slaves took with them more often than tools, weapons, money, or food.
The practical reasons were clear: slave owners bought clothing in bulk, prioritizing durability and low cost. Field hands wore near-identical arrays of drab, hard-wearing garments that would immediately mark them as runaways in cities or free states. Better clothing could help fugitives blend in or be exchanged for cash to finance their escape.
Cotton has grown on earth for between ten and twenty million years, though Europeans considered it an upstart. The plant is particular about its growing conditions, preferring temperatures around sixty degrees with minimal frost and twenty to twenty-five inches of rain annually. This limits its natural habitat to a global band roughly between thirty-two degrees south and thirty-seven degrees north.
Humans first used cotton textiles in the Indus Valley. The earliest evidence comes from microscopic traces preserved on copper beads from a Neolithic grave at Mehrgarh in present-day Pakistan, dating to the sixth millennium BC. Cotton was domesticated around 7,000 years ago, evolving from tall wild species into smaller, more compact plants easier to harvest.
European cotton trade expanded dramatically after Vasco da Gama discovered a direct sea route to India in 1497. Indian textiles with their delicate patterns became fashionable in Europe. Cotton textiles also became central to the slave trade. Between 1500 and 1800, over eight million Africans were transported to the Americas as slaves. Contrary to common belief, slaves were often purchased with cotton cloth rather than weapons or precious metals.
The cotton industry's growth was limited only by raw material supply. By 1858, cotton had become so economically vital that South Carolina Senator James Henry Hammond famously declared "Cotton is king," claiming no nation would dare make war upon it. Hammond himself embodied the darker aspects of the cotton economy, having abused teenage nieces and enslaved people, including maintaining sexual relationships with an enslaved woman and later her twelve-year-old daughter.
The invention of Eli Whitney's cotton gin in 1793 revolutionized production by efficiently cleaning American Upland cotton, whose short fibers had previously made processing unprofitable. The results were dramatic: South Carolina's cotton exports jumped from 10,000 pounds in 1790 to 6.4 million pounds by 1800. This expansion demanded more enslaved labor-Georgia's slave population nearly doubled in the 1790s to 60,000, while South Carolina's cotton regions saw their enslaved population more than triple.
At Nevada's Silver State Stampede rodeo in June 1951, Bing Crosby appeared wearing a remarkable indigo-dyed cotton jacket. This denim "tuxedo" was created by Levi's after Crosby had been temporarily ejected from a Vancouver hotel for wearing jeans. Denim has achieved extraordinary global cultural penetration. Anthropologist Daniel Miller found that over half the people he counted in diverse global cities wore blue jeans. A 2008 study showed people worldwide wore jeans 3.5 days weekly, with Germans particularly enthusiastic (over 5 days weekly, owning nearly 9 pairs).
Levi Strauss, a Bavarian immigrant who arrived in San Francisco during the 1852 Gold Rush, partnered with Reno tailor Jacob Davis, who had developed metal rivets to reinforce stress points in work pants. They received patent #139,121 on May 20, 1873 for their reinforced overalls, offered in both heavy brown cotton and denim-a tough twilled fabric with white warp and indigo-dyed weft (explaining why denim is paler on the reverse).
Chapitre 8
From Natural to Synthetic: The Chemical Revolution in Textiles
Agnes Humbert's story begins on April 15, 1941, when her happiness was shattered by Gestapo arrest. A respectable art historian with "soft, round eyes, a large, handsome nose, and marcel-waved hair," Humbert had joined the first organized Resistance group with colleagues from the Musee de l'Homme after Paris fell.
After trial, the male members were executed while women were deported to Germany as forced laborers. Humbert was initially relieved to learn she would work in a rayon factory rather than directly supporting the war effort, making "artificial silk" for "lingerie and stockings."
Creating rayon involves treating wood pulp with caustic sodas and carbon disulphide, producing a syrupy liquid called xanthate (giving rise to the name "viscose"), which is then forced through spinnerets into acid baths where filaments form. The resulting fabric drapes beautifully with a silk-like luster, and can be blended with natural fibers.
The enormous machine halls of rayon factories concealed dark realities from consumers who eagerly purchased the convenient, affordable synthetic fabrics. While companies like DuPont, Courtaulds, and others generated billions in profits from synthetics like nylon, rayon, and polyester, textile workers suffered tremendously. Agnes Humbert described the factory as "vast as a cathedral" with mysterious machines "protected by glass constructions," everything in "perpetual motion" amid noise and "the appalling stench of acid."
Carbon disulphide exposure caused devastating physical and psychological symptoms-from foggy vision and sexual dysfunction to violent hallucinations and psychosis. Workers suffered terrible burns from viscose that "eats flesh to the bone," while experiencing blindness, cramps, and suicidal impulses. Unlike civilian workers with safety equipment, slave laborers worked nearly nude as chemicals ate through their clothing.
The 2013 Rana Plaza collapse in Bangladesh killed 1,134 garment workers when an eight-story building with structural flaws suddenly collapsed. Despite visible cracks discovered the day before, managers threatened to withhold wages from workers who refused to return. Today's fast fashion industry relies heavily on synthetic fabrics, which make up over 60% of the global fiber market. These synthetics enable the rapid production cycles but come at tremendous environmental cost-from plastic microfiber pollution to the destruction of 120 million trees annually for rayon production. Most production has been outsourced to areas with cheap labor and lax regulations, with 65% of viscose made in China.
Chapitre 9
Textiles at the Extreme: From Polar Ice to Outer Space
Antarctic exploration represents perhaps the most isolated way to have "a bad time," as Apsley Cherry-Garrard described it-an environment where one puts on clothes at Michaelmas and keeps them on until Christmas.
Robert Falcon Scott's ill-fated 1912 expedition to the South Pole illustrates the critical importance of appropriate clothing in extreme environments. After trekking 1,800 miles through brutal conditions, Scott and his team discovered Norwegian explorer Amundsen had beaten them to the pole. Ten weeks later, all five British explorers were dead.
Contrary to popular belief that blamed Scott's failure on poor clothing choices, he had actually approached equipment methodically after learning from his earlier Discovery expedition (1901-1904). He tested different clothing combinations and emphasized the importance of keeping gear dry and snow-free.
Both the British and Norwegian teams relied on natural fibers-wool, cotton, silk and fur. They shared many clothing elements, including Wolsey's "Unshrinkable" woolen underwear and Burberry gabardine suits. Developed in 1879 by Thomas Burberry and inspired by lanolin-treated shepherd's smocks, gabardine was a tightly-woven cotton with weatherproof coating that offered wind and water resistance while maintaining some breathability.
The key difference was that Amundsen's team supplemented their gabardine with reindeer and seal parkas and trousers, a style he'd learned from Netsilik Inuits. Scott's team avoided furs, following Edward Wilson's "golden rule to avoid anything but wool" because furs trapped moisture, became heavy when wet, and froze.
The discovery of George Mallory's body on Everest in 1999 revealed remarkable details about his final 1924 expedition. His remains showed he wore multiple layers of natural fibers: cotton and silk underwear, a flannel shirt from Paine's outfitters, a brown pullover, a woolen waistcoat knitted by his wife Ruth, and a Burberry jacket with specialized "Pivot" sleeves designed for maximum movement.
Since the 1920s, clothing technology for extreme environments has undergone revolutionary changes. While early Everest climbers struggled in silk and wool layers, modern mountaineers benefit from sophisticated synthetic materials that have transformed exploration.
On July 21, 1969, Neil Armstrong made humanity's first footprint on the lunar surface as 528 million people watched worldwide. The Apollo Omega spacesuit had unlikely origins in women's underwear manufacturer Playtex (International Latex Company). The suits were handmade by seamstresses pulled from girdle and diaper assembly lines, using adapted Singer machines and materials from women's undergarments-including nylon tricot and girdle-liner. The precision required was extraordinary: pins were forbidden, seams could deviate no more than 1/64th inch, and X-ray machines scanned each layer. Each Omega suit comprised 4,000 fabric pieces across 21 distinct layers, including Teflon-coated Beta cloth, Mylar, Dacron, Nomex, Kapton and Chromel-R steel mesh.
Chapitre 10
Golden Threads: From Spider Silk to Technological Marvels
In January 2012, London's V&A museum unveiled an extraordinary creation: a glossy, calf-length cape in butter-yellow, adorned with intricate embroidery and foot-long tassels. This remarkable garment, resembling a priest's chasuble with applique flowers and arachnids decorating its surface, was made entirely from undyed spider silk. Created by Simon Peers and Nicholas Godley, the cape followed their earlier 132x48-inch tapestry made from approximately 1.2 million spiders' silk.
The golden cape's raw material came from Nephila Madagascariensis, palm-sized golden orb weaver spiders native to Madagascar. These striking creatures feature elegant legs and plump yellow-and-gray spotted abdomens, with females vastly larger than the tiny reddish-brown males. Part of one of Earth's oldest surviving spider genera (dating back 165 million years), they construct massive golden webs up to two yards across throughout Madagascar's capital.
Humans have long attempted to harness spider silk's remarkable properties. Pacific islanders made fishing lines from it, while African cultures fashioned hats and purses. Many cultures used webs for wound dressing, exploiting their antiseptic qualities. In the 18th century, Europeans seeking alternatives to Chinese silk turned to spiders, and until the 1960s, spider silk was used for gun sight crosshairs.
Spider silk and goat milk share surprising similarities according to Nexia Biotechnologies, who in January 2000 announced they'd pioneered large-scale spider silk production. Their method involved genetically modifying goats-nicknamed Freckles, Pudding, and Sweetie-to produce spider silk proteins in their milk. The resulting material, dubbed "BioSteel," attracted military funding for potential use in body armor.
The ancient legend of the golden fleece exemplifies humanity's enduring fascination with golden textiles. The tale begins with royal children rescued by a golden ram, whose sacrificed fleece later becomes a sacred object sought by Jason and the Argonauts. This mythic narrative reflects a global tradition of using gold-embellished textiles to signify power and divinity.
Beyond the authentic gold textiles traded along ancient routes, humans have long created golden-appearing fabrics through various means. Ancient Egyptians invented glass fibers around 1600 BC that nineteenth-century textile makers later used for imitation-gold brocades. More enduring is sea silk or byssus, harvested from Mediterranean molluscs and mentioned in Homer's Odyssey as "glossy like the skin of a dried onion" that "shone like the sun." This exceptionally rare fabric, possibly worn by King Solomon, comes from the solidified saliva of Pinna nobilis. Today, only Chiara Vigo and her daughter preserve this ancient tradition.
Though most people will never experience these rare golden textiles, fabric remains intrinsic to human civilization. From the biblical moment when Adam and Eve fashioned fig leaf clothing to our modern textiles that enable survival in extreme environments, fabrics function as extensions of our identities and aspirations. The choices we make about textiles continue to have far-reaching consequences for makers and our world.
