Sex and the Village: Sexy Lace Lingerie from Koniakow, Poland

Koniakow, the 500-year-old town in a very conservative part of southwestern Poland that produced Pope John Paul II, is almost totally inaccessible during winter, particularly heavy in terms of snowfall. For two centuries, women have hooked yarn into intricate crochet patterns to create lace tablecloths and altar decorations coveted by royalty throughout Europe. It was an art taught by mothers to daughters, done at home after finishing the daily farm chores, 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 thong. Last fall, some lacemakers trying to make money put a daring spin on the art and decided that underwear would sell better than rugs. Since then, the town of 3,000 has been in an uproar, neighbor against neighbor over lace straps.

“Making lace has always been a way of making money for people here,” says the 56-year-old mayor of the town, “but ever since the ropes started, the community has been divided: about money, about morals, about tradition. “

Some traditional lacemakers accuse renegade lacemakers of greed. Others say that thongs parade by tradition, are indecent and promote sex. “Our lace adorns Polish altars, our president’s office and the holy pope’s office in Rome,” says the president of a local craft guild of lacemakers that has been working with lace for six decades. “And suddenly our lace is appearing, I dare not say where. How did the Koniakow lacemakers come to this?”

“These are difficult times,” say his opponents in the conflict, “handkerchiefs and tablecloths do not sell well.”

Lace making in Koniakow began in the 19th century when young women began creating white lace caps to wear after their weddings. Shortly thereafter, the lacemakers say, the town’s women began weaving tablecloths, altar decorations, clerical robe collars, and other trimmings that adorn Polish religious and family occasions, as a way to supplement their income. Like family heirlooms, lace patterns and needles have been passed down from generation to generation.

During the communist times, business was good. The community was supported by the state in official guilds of artisans and subsidized as a nationally recognized art. Orders poured in from state stores, leading officials who wanted to use them to present as official gifts, and clerics who used 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. Borders open to the influence and products of the West. People got poorer as they lost government jobs in the old command economy.

The skimpy undergarments that some lacemakers were already discreetly making for themselves began to spark a local debate in June 2004. The sudden switch from religious adornments to sexy lingerie was noted by major news sources around the world. Reputable magazines like The Wall Street Journal, The Chicago Tribune and The New York Times covered the subject and at that time the straps began to be available online. Each pair can be made to customer color and design specifications. Although lingerie is definitely feminine, it also sparks interest among men, being unique and sophisticated ideas for romantic gifts.