MONOGRAMMED AND MARVELOUS
by Anita Rafael
Handmade quilts and coverlets have long commanded great praise and high bids among textile collectors, but that has not been the case for the “company best” table, bed and bath linens from America’s affluent Victorian households,
So little respect has been given to embellished linens in the antiques market, that the primers and price guides on collecting typically contain little or nothing at all about them. Unwashed and unironed, assortments of small pieces such as old napkins, tea towels and doilies are more often than not stuffed into garbage bags at low-end flea markets and sold as a lot. Could a hundred-and twenty-year-old embroidered linen tablecloth ever be a price record-breaker on TV’s popular Antiques Roadshow? Could your own collection begin the day you bring home just one old hand-monogrammed pillowcase?
It is not only possible to fall head over heels in love with vintage linens, anyone with an ounce of nostalgia for needlework is likely to already own a stack of old damask napkins, neatly laundered in anticipation of the next big dinner party. In the wealthiest homes across Victorian America housekeepers and their mistresses spent inordinate amounts of time, effort and money acquiring, marking, counting, washing, starching and ironing enormous inventories of fine linens. Like owning an elaborate silver service with twenty different forks and ten types of spoons, having the model linen closet stocked with a several dozen of every conceivable article, mostly imported from Europe, was a show of high style and status. In the milieu of the middle-class, there was a time when every unwed girl had her hope chest (remember those?), and in it she kept some fashionable linen items, expecting to someday monogram them with her married initials.
Newporter Maria Lewis is a third-generation collector of fine linens who enjoys using her table linens everyday. “I have the things that my grandmother collected, and then my mother’s linens, too,” she says, adding, “There is not one paper napkin in this house!” The linens that Lewis has been buying since childhood are damasks with mythological figures or scenes, classical geometrics and then fauna, in that order. Some of her best finds are what she calls “convent linens,” made by Irish nuns. She bought the tablecloths at an auction in New York state because they have designs that she says she had never seen before or since.
Among the finer details to look for in old linens are hand-stitch hems and remarkable monograms or ciphers with intertwined initials. Expect to pay extra for complicated embellishments that show higher skill in the needlework and more creativity in the design. To tell if the embroidery was done by hand, count the stitches in, say, two identical leaves or letters. The exact same number of threads is a clue that this work is the repetitive precision of a sewing machine.
These days, there are two big advantages for the cost-conscious cut when it comes to collecting vintage linens. First, domestic textiles from the mid-1800s and early 1900s, produced in abundance, are still comparatively easy to find. Individual pieces turn up in yard sales with surprising frequency. Second, if you come across a trove of mismatched and rumpled linens, they are likely to be bargain-priced. The prices connoisseurs pay only begin to hit the ceiling when complete sets such as a large tablecloth paired with 16 or 24 monogrammed napkins, for example, have been inspected, laundered and pressed by a conservator prior to sale. A savvy dealer might readily take articles to be professionally evaluated before selling them, and then raise his price accordingly. If the linens can be identified as Porthault or Marghab, they have even greater value. The Marghab firm, which some experts claim set a benchmark for quality in hand-embroidery, closed its doors on the Portuguese island of Madeira the mid-20th century, making their goods all the more collectible nowadays. Lewis says that, in fact, when the business shut down operations, thousands of the Marghab designs were archivally preserved because of the remarkable workmanship. Porthault, a truly venerable firm, is still in business in Paris, France, with a New York City showroom, as well.
A century ago, most dining tables were wider than nowadays, so tablecloths were typically a generous 88 to 90 inches wide. They were meant to drop way over the edges of the table. A table looks its best when there is at least 10 to 20 inches of fabric overhanging on all sides.
At the high end, a mint condition banquet tablecloth that is more than 100 years old, perhaps hand-hemmed to 125 inches long by 90 inches wide, woven of creamy damask might easily raise an opening bid at auction of more than $400, and proceed to climb from there to double or triple that figure. Expect to pay the premium price for ready-to-use table items and pristine bedclothes at the better antique shops. As for the Internet, unless you are sure you can ship your purchases back to the seller for a refund if the quality and condition does not meet your standards, think twice about buying vintage linens online.
Since the rules of etiquette are a great deal more lenient now than in days gone by, it is not essential to own all matching sets of napkins, hankies or pillowcases, or to accumulate linens embroidered with only your monogram. Consider it a sweet reward anytime you score pieces with your initials. To tempt hesitant buyers, one dealer labels her hodgepodge linens as “Auntie Anybody’s” heirlooms, inviting customers to make up a few ancestors to go with the letters. Lewis advises shoppers not to be afraid of linens with some discoloration or stains. “Most of the dinginess and stains will come out,” she says, nonchalantly, “it’s more important to look for any hint of dry rot.” A textile whose fibers have begun to break down, usually as a result of having been stored in a hot, dry attic, Lewis explains, will simply disintegrate as soon as it gets wet. She protects some of her best pieces by storing them in 100% cotton pillowcases in rooms where the year-round temperature is more or less stable.
~ Beginner collectors should refer to reference guides to tell the difference between cotton, linen and various blended fibers. ~ Pure linen, made of flax only, can range from snow white to rich tan. The best damask is 100% linen. ~ A handy tip: Whenever you are antique hunting, use your nose. If you catch a whiff of camphor, your nana’s favorite insecticide, there is sure to be a stack of vintage fabrics within reach. ~ When browsing for old bed linens that you plan to use, do not assume they will fit your pillows or mattress. You may end up paying extra for alterations, and any tailoring you do slashes the investment value.
Since all historic textiles require extra effort for upkeep, especially if you are planning on using them regularly, filling a closet with vintage items is not for everyone. On the other hand, our inability to resist buying old linens may be preprogrammed from our childhoods. One woman may recall how chaste her grandmother’s Sunday table looked covered with its white damask tablecloth and she may use one just like it for that old-fashioned feeling. For another collector, simply refolding a dinner napkin might bring to mind his aunt’s patient lessons on good table manners. Is it possible that you, too, carry with you the romantic expectation that along with crisp, clean linens come many of the finer things of life?
