Summer with the Selvedge Archives: Golden Fleece

The Mystery of Sea Silk

Written by Sarah Jane Downing for Selvedge Issue 113, Raw

Once thought to be the substance that created the mythical golden fleece of Greek legend, sea silk is so rare that it has been surrounded by mystery for centuries. Sometimes known as mermaid silk, one theory was that it came from tiny sheep that could live under the sea; another was that sea creatures came out of the ocean to rub themselves on the rocks leaving the silk behind. The silky fine fibre in shades of gold and bronze is secreted by the noble pen shell, a giant Mediterranean bivalve mollusc growing over a metre in length. 

The mollusc (Pinna nobilis) secretes a protein that solidifies on contact with seawater into a soft golden filament with which it secures itself to the ocean floor. Finer than human hair, the fibre named byssus in the 16th century is incredibly light as well as strong and beautiful. Sea silk was known in the ancient world and thought to be the “byssus” that made the cloak worn by King Salomon in the Bible. Indeed, the golden bracelets of Queen Nefertiti were sea silk byssus, as were the gloves that Admiral Horatio Nelson sought for his great love Emma Hamilton when staying at sea between Sardinia and Corsica, describing them in a letter in March 1804 as “a pair of curious gloves, they are made only in Sardinia of the beards of mussels … they tell me they are very scarce, and for that reason, I wish you to have them.” Sea silk has been gathered for over a thousand years in a process described by Chiara Vigo, the last surviving sea silk master who set up the Byssus Museum at her workshop in Sant’Antioco, Sardinia.

Illustration by Maya Cheeseman

The last of a matrilineal line that goes back for thirty generations, Vigo is the only person who knows the secret location and the sacred ritual. She dives under cover of darkness at certain times of the year to the deep sea caves off the coast of Sant’Antioco, where the last of the Pinna nobilis live. For each dive, Vigo dons a white tunic and recites a special prayer before making the plunge to gently harvest the sea silk leaving the Pinna safely in their caves unharmed. She then desalinates the fibres, bathing them in fresh water every three hours until the fibre is stable and out of danger of becoming brittle. A bath of lemon juice is next to enhance the silk’s golden tones, and then the fibres can be gently carded, ready to be spun and woven on her 200-year-old lyre-shaped loom. Vigo insists that sea silk must never be sold, only ever gifted.

Still, there were times throughout the 20th century when the tiny fishing community hoped their precious resource could be commercialised. Giuseppe Basso-Arnoux exhibited items of sea silk at the Esposizione dei lavori femminili in 1908. Italo Diana, who had an atelier in Sant’Antioco, embroidered a sea silk tapestry for Mussolini, hoping it would inspire Il Duce to provide funding. All efforts came to nought Nevertheless, decades of overfishing and pollution almost drove Pinna nobilis to extinction before they were protected by law in 1992. Today, due to Chiara Vigo’s efforts, sea silk is drawing visitors to Sant’Antioco.

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Further Information:

Issue 113 Raw is available in print and as a digital download.

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Image Credits:

Lead: Illustration by Maya Cheeseman

All further images as credited in captions.