A Modern Tale of an Old Blue Dye
'The kids think I'm a nice witch,' said Ms. Lambert, now 73, as the fabric reacted with the air, turning from a brilliant yellow to green to a vibrant blue.
The batch was just one of the orders for her company, L'Atelier des Bleus Pastel d'Occitanie, most of which are commissioned by fashion designers.
In previous weeks, the workshop's drying racks had been lined with jeans for Tender, a brand by the British designer William Kroll, and work wear for a Japanese clothing company. But 'you never know what you're going to do,' she said.
Ms. Lambert — who tends to wear blue clothes, has glasses with blue frames and often finds her hands are blue from dye — has been in thrall to the color since 1993, when she and her husband, Henri, bought a derelict tannery in Lectoure, a hill town in southwestern France not far from Toulouse. At a chapel on the property, the pair discovered four 15th-century window shutters that, despite their age, were still blue.
Unable to find any trace of the color, used on horse carts in the 1400s for its insect repellent properties, Ms. Lambert said the couple wanted 'to figure out why this blue didn't exist anymore and where it came from.' The answer lay with the isatis tinctoria plant, also called woad.
Once the only blue dye in Europe, woad pigment made a fortune for the sun-rich Toulouse area during the Renaissance, when it also was called Toulouse's Blue Gold. But over time, the plant was supplanted by indigo from Asia and, later, artificial dyes, said Chantal Armagnac, author of 'Le Pastel en Pays de Cocagne,' a book about woad and its history in the region.
'It was much easier to dye with synthetic dyes,' Ms. Armagnac said. So 'gradually, the know-how disappeared.'
Intent on reviving the color, the Lamberts founded a company called Bleu de Lectoure in 1994. Using seeds from the archives of the Conservatoire National des Plantes in Milly-la-Forêt, France and an 1813 treatise by Napoleon's dye chemist, Giovanni Giobert, that a friend found at an auction, they embarked on a five-year project to recreate the pigment using modern techniques.
Mr. Lambert died in 2010 at age 55 and their company closed in 2016 after two years of bad harvests. But Ms. Lambert was determined to continue their work and in 2017, she founded L'Atelier des Bleus Pastel d'Occitanie. Now she lives in Roumens, working alongside their 36-year-old daughter, Mariam.
Company projects have included dyeing linen tablecloths for the Cannes Film Festival, feathers for the 2017 film 'King Arthur: Legend of the Sword,' a Viking dress in need of restoration for the National Museum of Finland, wooden kitchenware for a Japanese company and couture pieces for runway shows. (Confidentiality agreements mean the company cannot identify some of its clients, but their ranks include Nana Aganovich and Ted Lapidus, Ms. Lambert said.)
In contrast to the luxury items often handled by the atelier, the workshop and its tools are fairly basic.
The space, lit by fluorescent strip lights and with a concrete floor, totals only about 380 square feet. Large plastic trash cans are used as dye vats; plumbing pipes fixed to one wall provide drying racks; and long thin wooden broom handles, one for each Lambert, are used as dye sticks, to drag fabrics out of the depths of the vats.
Dyeing begins with the creation of a so-called 'mother solution,' prepared in a five-liter plastic jug that sits on a cabinet top. (The more attractive, but less practical, glass container on the shelf above is reserved for use when TV film crews are visiting, Ms. Lambert said with a grin.)
Ingredients include powdered pigment, now purchased from local farmers; volcanic spring water from the Auvergne region of France, heated to 70 or 80 degrees Fahrenheit (21 to 27 degrees Celsius); diluted ammonia, a modern replacement for the men's urine traditionally used to achieve a balance between the mix's acid and alkaline levels; and powdered fructose to prevent the mixture from oxidizing. The amounts of each substance used in the mix depends on the shade of blue that is desired and the type of fabric to be dyed.
The ingredients are blended by placing the container on the flat surface of a machine called a magnetic stirrer, putting a magnet into the container and running the machine for 25 to 60 minutes. After allowing the mixture to rest for 24 hours, it is added to a vat already filled with cold water.
Anything being dyed 'has to go in very delicately,' Ms. Lambert said as she lowered another linen square slowly into the vat's dark, green waters. If the liquid is disturbed too much, air would get into the mixture and turn it an unwanted blue, she said, acknowledging the alchemy of the process: 'Nothing is normal with woad.'
Numerous factors determine the final color, she said, including how many times something is dipped (the dying process involves a minimum of three and a maximum of seven baths; between baths, the fabric is squeezed to remove excess water and aired), soaking time, the type of fabric and even the weather.
'You have a bacteria that's alive and that may want to work or may not want to work,' said Ms. Lambert, comparing the dye to a petulant teen. 'It's never a boring day.'
For Robin Khayat, the owner of the French luxury clothing brand Blanc Bleu, the result is a subtly shifting palette that far outshines commercial, standardized colors.
'People can immediately see there's something different,' said Mr. Khayat, whose two-year collaboration with the atelier has included Blanc Bleu's signature Cable sweater (1,350 euros, or $1,412). 'Suddenly, you have these types of blues you haven't seen before, and it's just magic.'
Ms. Lambert said she worked seven-day weeks to fit lectures, workshops, consulting with museums such as the Jewish Museum of New York and collaborating with universities such as BOKU University in Vienna. And she still has many plans, including establishing an international academy to study natural colors.
'You never stop hoping to have the best blue,' said Ms. Lambert as she watched the linens on her rack change color. 'It's fascinating what you can obtain. It hooks on to you, and you can't get rid of it.'
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The USS Silversides submarine sank 23 ships and earned 12 battle stars during World War II. Visitors can tour the vessel at the USS Silversides Submarine Museum in Muskegon, Michigan. The submarine was the site of a successful emergency appendectomy in enemy waters in 1942. Christmas Eve, 1942. The USS Silversides, a US Navy submarine, is surrounded by Japanese warships on a covert patrol in enemy-controlled waters. And George Platter's appendix is about to burst. Platter, a crew member on the USS Silversides, will die if he doesn't get surgery immediately. When the commanding officer gives the order, crew members spring into action. They fashion surgical tools out of utensils from the galley. They find an ironing board to prop up Platter's feet since the table in the wardroom is too short to lie him flat. They submerge beneath the waves to create more stability for the operation, even though the submarine's batteries are only partially charged. The pharmacist's mate, Thomas Moore, has never performed the surgery before. He keeps a medical textbook open next to him the whole time. Platter wakes up during the surgery when the local anesthetic wears off, so they sedate him with ether. It leaks into the rest of the submarine and sedates some of the crew, as well. After four hours, against all odds, the surgery is successful. Platter makes a full recovery and is back on watch six days later. It's extraordinary stories such as this one that are preserved at the USS Silversides Submarine Museum in Muskegon, Michigan. Visitors can climb aboard the historic submarine, which was awarded 12 battle stars for its service in World War II, and explore its battle stations, cramped bunks, and even the operating table where Platter received his appendectomy. I toured the USS Silversides in May. Here's what I saw. Commissioned in 1941, the USS Silversides sank 23 ships over its 14 war patrols, making it one of the most successful American submarines from World War II. The Gato-class submarine measures 312 feet long and weighs 2,410 tons while submerged. Its standard crew consisted of eight officers and 72 enlisted men. After it was decommissioned in 1946, the USS Silversides was used as a teaching submarine and became a National Historic Landmark. From 1947 to 1969, the USS Silversides was used as a training vessel for the Ninth Naval District in Chicago. It was then moved to the Naval Armory and Navy Pier before arriving in Muskegon to serve as a museum in 1987. It was also used as a movie set for the 2002 film "Below." The submarine is now the star attraction at the USS Silversides Museum in Muskegon. The USS Silversides Submarine Museum is open seven days a week from April through December and operates Thursday through Monday in the winter months of January, February, and March. An all-inclusive ticket to the museum costs $17.50 for adults, $15 for veterans, and is free of charge for active-duty service members. Tickets can be purchased on the museum's website. Like the USS Cobia in Manitowoc, Wisconsin, the museum also offers visitors the chance to spend a night on the submarine. The USS Silversides is docked outside the museum in the Muskegon Lake Channel, which leads into Lake Michigan. The Lake Express ferry passes by the USS Silversides Submarine Museum on its route between Muskegon and Milwaukee. As I began my tour of the submarine, the ferry honked its horn as passengers waved at me from the upper deck. The deck featured weapons such as a 4-inch, 50-caliber deck gun, a 40-millimeter antiaircraft gun, and a 20-millimeter surface-to-surface gun. The 40-millimeter antiaircraft gun had the longest range, capable of shooting targets up to 22,800 feet away. A plaque on the deck memorialized the crew member Mike Harbin, who was killed by enemy fire while manning the deck gun. Harbin was 19 years old when he was shot in battle on May 10, 1942. He was buried at sea. The torpedo loading ramp was made of a wood called lignum vitae, which gets slippery when wet. Lignum vitae is Latin for "wood of life." The rest of the deck was made of teakwood, which is impervious to water, fire, and termites. It also doesn't float, which was crucial to maintain the submarine's covert operations if a piece broke off. Decals on the side of the submarine indicated its many wartime accomplishments. The USS Silversides featured stickers showing it sank 30 ships, but that number has since been amended to 23, Bethann Egan, the museum's executive director, told Business Insider. The USS Silversides also damaged 14 ships, cleared 16 enemy mines, and rescued two American paratroopers. The first stop on my tour was the forward torpedo room, where crew members loaded torpedoes into the six torpedo tubes. The room slept 16 crew members on bunks that unfolded alongside the torpedoes, which measured 22 feet long and weighed 3,000 pounds. Lockers above the bunks were used to store personal possessions. All of a crew member's personal items had to fit into one small locker. Colored lights were used to help crew members' eyes adjust to the dark to prevent night blindness. If the submarine was too bright inside, crew members wouldn't be able to see in the dark if they went up onto the deck at night during an attack. The lights used to be blue and then switched to red, which is why the light fixture said "blue" on it even though the light bulb was red. The shower and bathroom in the forward torpedo room were used by the officers, whose bunks were down the hall. Flushing the toilet on the USS Silversides was a 12-step process. One wrong move would cause the toilet's contents to shoot back out. Meals were plated and reheated in the officers' pantry. Officers ate the same meals as the rest of the crew but dined in the privacy of the wardroom instead of the crew's mess. The pantry also stocked snacks and coffee. The table on display in the wardroom was the original table where George Platter's successful appendectomy took place in 1942. "The pharmacist's mate who actually performed it did not technically have permission from all the way up, but the commander made the decision that this needed to happen or else the sailor was going to die," Egan said. "So he stood up for him and made sure that he was not court-martialed after." The wardroom also served as the officers' dining room and lounge. The higher an officer's rank, the fewer people he had to share a room with. Junior and senior officers served as administrators on the submarine, while the executive officer, known as the "XO," was second-in-command to the commanding officer. Officers' quarters included foldout desks and sinks. The rooms also came with storage areas where they could hang their uniforms. The commanding officer enjoyed the only private room on the submarine. His stateroom featured a depth gauge and a compass above the bed so that he could tell how deep the submarine was and which way it was facing at all times. Chief petty officers slept in a room nicknamed the "goat locker." According to the Naval History and Heritage Command, the nickname dates back to the 1890s, when chief petty officers took care of the goats kept on ships for fresh milk. Another explanation is that chief petty officers served in the Navy for more than a decade to reach their positions and were known as "old goats." In the yeoman's shack, the yeoman handled the submarine's paperwork. In addition to managing personnel records, the yeoman also kept logs of the submarine's changes in direction, speed, and depth. In the control room, crew members managed the USS Silversides' vital functions with numerous technical instruments. The bow and stern plane wheels pictured above controlled the submarine's depth and angle. The commanding officer would give commands such as "2 degrees right rudder," which the crew would repeat and execute. The ship's inclinometer worked like a carpenter's level to show if the submarine was tilting to one side or the other. Keith Gill, the museum's director of curatorial services, told BI that staff members use this inclinometer "every day" to check on the submarine. "It's almost never centered, and that's because we have some leaks in some tanks that we're monitoring and adjusting air pressure to keep water out," Gill said. The hull opening indicator light panel was known as the "Christmas tree" for its red and green lights. A green light indicated that a vent or hatch was closed, while red meant it was open. The submarine could only submerge when the board was fully lit up in green. The helmsman's wheel steered the submarine. On some World War II submarines, such as the USS Becuna, the main helm was in the conning tower above the control room. On the USS Silversides, the main helm was in the control room itself. The control room also housed the compressed air manifold and trim manifold. The compressed air manifold distributed compressed air throughout the submarine, which was used to start the engines, fire torpedoes, and surface the vessel. The trim manifold showed how much weight was in different tanks on the submarine and moved water between them to maintain the ship's balance as it used up fuel or fired weapons. In the radio room, crew members could communicate with vessels up to 12,000 miles away. Most communications happened in code. Cooks prepared all of the crew's meals in the galley. Cooks were also trained to operate the deck guns and perform other technical tasks around the submarine. Gill noted that during World War II, Black crew members were often relegated to roles in the kitchen and weren't allowed to advance beyond serving as stewards because of the Navy's segregation policies. "One of the negative sides of our past is how we treated African American citizens," he said. "They were in the military, but they were segregated somewhat. On a Navy ship, on a sub, you really can't segregate, but you can control what they're doing." The kitchen featured a piece of equipment I'd never seen on a submarine before: a soft-serve ice cream machine. The kitchen also included a deep fryer. Crew members ate meals in three shifts in the crew's mess. Submarines were known for doing some of the most dangerous work and having some of the most difficult living conditions in the military, but the Navy ensured they received the best food. Submariners also received hazard pay, the highest in the Navy. The enlisted men also slept in shifts in the crew's quarters. Newer crew members slept on the bottom bunks, which could also occasionally be used as food storage early on in a patrol. "Supposedly, they called this the honeymoon suite on top," Egan said. "I don't know if that's 100% accurate." The mattresses in the two middle bunks were placed so close together that they essentially functioned as one bed. Regular crew members showered only every 13 to 15 days in the crew's washroom. Officers showered every three to five days, while the cooks showered every day since they were handling food. The forward and after engine rooms each contained two 1,600-horsepower diesel engines manufactured by Fairbanks-Morse. At top speed, the USS Silversides could travel at 21 knots, or about 24 miles an hour. The forward engine room also contained two evaporators that distilled ocean water into fresh water. The engines are still operational. The USS Silversides' insignia was painted on one of the aft engines. The logo depicts a silverside fish smoking a cigar and holding a torpedo. The maneuvering room was crewed by two electricians who controlled the propulsion of the submarine. At full power, the USS Silversides used 4 million watts of electricity. The last stop on the tour was the aft torpedo room in the back of the submarine. The aft torpedo room was smaller than the forward torpedo room, with four torpedo tubes and room for eight torpedoes. The room displayed a real demilitarized Mark 18 electric torpedo. Electric torpedoes such as the Mark 18 didn't leave a wake, or trail of waves, behind them, making them more difficult to detect. After I finished my tour of the submarine, I visited the museum itself, which featured photos and artifacts from World War II and beyond. I particularly enjoyed an exhibit about the appendectomy that took place in the wardroom, featuring photos from the procedure. Preserving the aging submarine is no small task, but the USS Silversides remains a fascinating testament to the dedication of American service members in World War II. After running its engines in an annual Memorial Day tribute, the museum hopes to give the USS Silversides its first oil change since the 1950s this summer. Eventually, the entire vessel will have to be removed from the water and dry-docked because of leaks in its tanks. The museum applied for federal funding through the Save America's Treasures grant program, but Egan said during my May visit that they might not end up receiving it because of sweeping cuts made by the White House DOGE office. "They have not officially cut that funding source yet, but it's not looking good," Egan said. When the submarine was on active duty, the entire 80-person crew worked tirelessly to maintain the ship, and the Navy financed all necessary repairs and upgrades. The USS Silversides Submarine Museum's preservation efforts, however, are privately funded and largely volunteer-driven. "We're just poor museum people who are trying to honor the commitment that these guys made over 14 war patrols to protect our country," Gill said. Read the original article on Business Insider
