Land of silkworms: Tan Chau silk. Lanh My A silk

Tan Chau, though far in the distance, is very close in the hearts of silk lovers. This small town, located upstream of the Tien River, more than 70km from the center of An Giang province, has for centuries been cherished by the elite with the title of "the foremost silk land" of the Mekong Delta.

The traditional silk weaving village of Tan Chau was established more than a century ago and has been famous for generations for its Lanh My A silk, a noble silk unmatched anywhere else, contributing to Tan Chau's reputation as the land of silkworms.

Silk land on the banks of the Tien River

"No man is as virtuous as the men of the Cua River; no woman is as kind as the women of Tan Chau." 

Days of weaving silk and growing mulberry trees

"Serving one's father and caring for one's mother is no hardship."

In Long Chau, the center of the traditional silk weaving village of Tan Chau, when mentioning the name Lanh My A, the name of the finest, deep black silk that only Tan Chau can produce, everyone feels proud.

During the French colonial period in Southern Vietnam, a Frenchman named De Colbert visited Tan Chau and, finding the soil and climate suitable, established the Silkworm Farm, specializing in mulberry cultivation, silkworm rearing, and silk weaving. It was here that the famous My A silk was created. My A silk is woven from the finest silk of the healthiest silkworms, dyed repeatedly with the sap of the Mac Nua fruit for months. This smooth, intensely black silk feels like a caress on the skin; it's cool in summer and warm in winter, even with just a thin layer of silk. The more it's worn and washed, the darker and more lustrous it becomes, a color that "remains unchanged" until it's torn and worn. Because of the superior materials and the immense effort required to create it, in the past, only the wealthy and upper class wore My A silk on luxurious occasions such as attending plays, festivals, and parties. The silk was treasured like a prized possession, even surpassing the renowned "Siamese silk" of Thailand. Moreover, there were times when Tan Chau silk even appeared in India, Singapore, the Philippines, and other countries, and was highly favored by the upper class and royalty.

Around 1920, in what is now Long Chau and many places in Tan Chau, the population was sparse, mainly relying on mulberry cultivation, silkworm rearing, and silk weaving. During the period 1936-1940, Tan Chau became the largest silk center in Southern Vietnam, with large-scale silk reeling and weaving factories; lush green mulberry orchards stretching along the banks of the Tien and Hau rivers; dense rows of mulberry trees lining Provincial Road 952; and on the river, boats bustled like a floating village. From dawn to dusk, the sound of looms clicking and the rumbling of looms could be heard constantly. Everywhere you looked, you could see vast expanses of Lanh My A silk drying in the sun. By the 1960s, Tan Chau silk products were not only supplied domestically but also exported to countries such as Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, the Philippines, and France. The customers who bought and used Lanh My A silk were mainly the upper class and wealthy, wearing it only for special occasions like festivals, weddings, and other celebrations. Mr. Tran Van Hong, 79 years old, residing in Long Chau ward, recalls that in the old days, owning a set of My A silk clothing was very precious because it was expensive and looked elegant and sophisticated. Even poor families tried to buy a few sets to wear on important occasions such as weddings for their children, and during Tet (Lunar New Year)... My A silk had unique characteristics: it was cool in hot weather and warm in winter, the fabric was durable and did not absorb water, and the longer it was kept, the more beautiful and lustrous the color became... In the old days, owning a set of My A silk clothing was the dream of many people, especially women from other provinces and cities.

In An Giang province, mulberry trees are cultivated on sandy riverbanks and extend deep into the rice paddies. The entire landscape is a vast expanse of green, stretching from one village to another. In some years, mulberry fields cover more than 10,000 hectares, extending from Tan Chau and Cho Moi all the way to the Cambodian border, just to provide enough food for silkworms. What's special is that when harvesting mulberry leaves for silkworms, people don't pick them individually but cut them close to the base, then gather them into large bundles and transport them home. During the dry season, the villagers are bustling with activity as they begin the mulberry and silkworm production. The sounds of looms, frames, and machinery pounding fill every house from dawn until dusk. From the front yards to the village roads and beyond to the fields, silk (Lanh My A silk) is spread out everywhere, stretching as far as the eye can see.

However, due to fierce competition from cheap imported synthetic fabrics, the market for Tan Chau silk gradually shrank after 1945. Many households switched from silk weaving to nylon weaving. In 1987, the Tan Chau Silk Company was established, but it only operated for two years before dissolving because it could not compete with imported goods. With the domestic market paralyzed and no international market connections found, the Tan Chau silk weaving industry faced a deadlock for decades. Hundreds of households had to abandon their mulberry gardens and cut down their mulberry trees to switch to rice cultivation. From 1996 to 2012, only one household maintained the traditional weaving craft: the household of Mr. Nguyen Van Long (also known as Tam Lang).

"The Silk Queen"

From the beginning of silkworm rearing to the point where the silkworms "feed" on their cocoons, it's a meticulous and laborious process requiring constant attention from the villagers, who almost always have to be present by the trays and the mulberry cutting boards. Only when the silkworms are mature and form golden cocoons are they brought up to the "looms" to spin their silk. It can be said that the weaving village suddenly becomes more beautiful and radiant than ever. Under the sunlight, every house gleams with golden silk threads… After spinning the silk, the raw silk is unwound from the bundles, spun into thicker threads, and then woven into silk fabrics. In the early days of silk reeling and weaving in Tan Chau, people used traditional looms. The fabric width was only about four decimeters, and when making clothes, they had to join pieces of fabric, resulting in less attractive garments. Gradually, the craft village developed looms with widths of 8 and then 9 decimeters, while simultaneously researching ways to make silk more beautiful and durable, with many exquisite patterns such as brocade, mulberry flowers, chrysanthemums, hammock patterns, and cushion patterns. Typically, each 90-meter roll of fabric contains 12,550 warp threads. Lãnh Mỹ A silk is woven using the satin weave method (the most difficult method in silk weaving). The weavers must have keen eyesight and skillful hands to weave a uniform, beautiful silk fabric that looks as if it were made from a single thread. Afterward, it is boiled to remove all the silkworm glue before being dyed. Beautiful Lãnh Mỹ A silk has a smooth, glossy black surface that brightens over time. When worn, one can feel the delicate texture of the silk and the distinctive fragrance of the mulberry fruit.

"The process of growing mulberry trees and raising silkworms is also very difficult. We grow mulberry trees, raise silkworms, harvest the cocoons, and then weave them into individual silk threads. In the past, weaving was done on looms. Even now, some traditional households still preserve that image. People see the process as the owner of the product putting their whole heart and mind into the product. From weaving a silk thread to a piece of cloth is a very elaborate process. There is a type of fruit called 'mắc nưa' used to dye the fabric. It has to be dyed and dried in the sun many times; only with good sunlight will the fabric be strong and durable," shared Mr. Le Trung Hieu – Director of the An Giang Trade and Investment Promotion Center and also a native of Tan Chau.

Lãnh Mỹ A silk has thermoregulatory properties, keeping you cool in hot weather but warm in winter. The silk material is durable and does not absorb water. In particular, because Lãnh Mỹ A silk combines the effects of leather, paper, and silk on each meter of fabric, it is also affectionately known as lacquer silk. Lãnh fabric always has one glossy side and one matte side. The surface of Lãnh Mỹ A silk is smooth, soft, and glossy black; the longer it is used, the more lustrous it becomes. Wearing a piece of this mysterious Lãnh Mỹ A silk, you will feel the smoothness and softness of the silk fibers and be captivated by the light, gentle fragrance of the mulberry fruit. All the meticulous and laborious processes contribute to the value of Lãnh Mỹ A silk. Unfortunately, too many people misunderstand the value of luxury goods, thinking that it lies in the material aspect, while true luxury lies in the spirit. The exquisite craftsmanship and rarity, the outstanding aesthetics of the product, the extravagant investment of time and space, and the attitude and skill of the craftsman during the production process – these are what create luxury value. Therefore, high-end items are always rare and painstakingly produced, and behind the story of luxury goods often lies a profoundly accurate and moving philosophy about Beauty. For many years, Mr. Tam Lang and his son have calmly and meticulously treated their craft with unwavering loyalty, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The dyeing technique of Tam Lang

The finished silk is dyed using the fruit of the *Morus alba* tree. In the past, the people of Tan Chau dyed silk with the bark of old trees and then stomped on it in mud. The fabric turned black but the color was not durable, fading quickly and having a reddish tint. Tam Lang, a strong and resourceful young man, heard that Cambodia had *Morus alba* fruit specifically used for dyeing, so he decided to cross the border and bring some back for the weavers in the area. The Cambodians crushed the *Morus alba* fruit to extract the sap, dyed the fabric, rinsed it, and dyed it again, repeating this process until the silk was sufficiently dyed black. “ The Cambodian fabric takes a long time to develop its color, after enduring so much washing and scrubbing. That’s why, upon returning to Tan Chau, I discussed with the weavers the idea of ​​dyeing and pounding the fabric simultaneously, breaking the silk fibers. Unexpectedly, this pain created an immediate softness, smoothness, and glossy sheen for the My A silk… ” Back then, the villagers had to buy hundreds of tons of *Morus alba* fruit from Cambodia each year to meet their needs. In 1975, Tam Lang stopped trading in the mulberry fruit because he had managed to propagate the plant variety right in his hometown. "The mulberry fruit determines the beautiful color. Lanh My A silk is particularly well-suited to mulberry silk. If you dye mulberry fruit with any other fabric, it won't look good. But dyeing it with silk is very beautiful. Once you incorporate mulberry into the fabric, the more beautiful it becomes. The more you wash it, the more beautiful it looks. It stays shiny, doesn't fade, and doesn't wrinkle at all."

The silk is rolled up and then pounded to break the silk fibers, creating a durable, lustrous sheen.

With considerable capital, Tam Lang opened a large weaving factory. He was so captivated by the silk fabric of My A that he wanted to use his decades of experience to create a truly beautiful and smooth silk fabric. But war and hardship meant people dared not dream of luxury. The entire Tan Chau region ceased silk weaving; mulberry fields were cut down, silkworm farms stopped spinning, and the silkworm farming industry died out. Most hand-weaving looms switched to weaving the common and inexpensive nylon yarn. Large weavers, saddened by the loss of silk that was once the pride of the region, tried to hold on. Like a captain who only leaves a sinking ship after all passengers and crew have disembarked, Tam Lang resisted the demise of My A silk until 1984, when the factory owner finally accepted closing his last silk weaving loom. More than half a century later, old man Tam Lang, at the age of 88, sits in his garden, leisurely recounting the days of his youth when he ventured through the forests to find the colors for the most precious silk of Tan Chau.

Today, Lãnh Mỹ A silk is a type of fabric woven from the finest silk of Bảo Lộc (Lâm Đồng province) and dyed with the sap of the Mặc Nưa fruit, a crystallization of nature's finest elements. When exposed to air and temperature, the silk turns a deep black color. Further processes include rinsing, drying, winding into coils, and pounding to allow the Mặc Nưa sap to penetrate the silk, ensuring the highest quality product. On average, the entire process from weaving to producing the finished silk takes 45 days, sometimes up to 60 days during the rainy season. Thanks to the meticulous weaving process and the incredibly complex dyeing techniques passed down through generations, Lãnh Mỹ A remains a superb silk fabric highly sought after.

The silk fabrics must be dyed before sunrise to ensure they are dried in the early morning sunlight. The silk is washed and rinsed repeatedly in the river, then dried and dyed again more than 100 times. After drying, the silk is rolled into coils and pounded to create a durable, lustrous sheen; this pounding process usually takes another 5 to 7 days. At least 6 "da" (layers) of dyeing must be done. Each time the fabric is pounded (to break the fibers and allow the dye to adhere better) counts as one "da". Furthermore, the silk undergoes other stages such as sizing and rinsing to create a beautiful, precious My A silk fabric with a deep, glossy black color. This is also the distinctive and unique characteristic of Tan Chau silk. Mr. Nguyen Huu Tri, an artisan at the Lanh My A silk production facility in Tan Chau, shared: "After dyeing for 10-12 days, we beat the silk to remove the first layer. After the first layer, we continue beating and then dye again, repeating the same process for about 9-10 days to dye the second layer. After the second layer, we dye the third layer. It's the same process, but the time is shorter. Then comes the sixth layer, which is called the color beating. After beating that layer, the process is complete." The silk dyeing process is considered important and elaborate, requiring skill and meticulousness from the craftsman because the silk must be dipped many times so that each thread is deeply and evenly soaked before being dried. When drying, they must choose a time with good sunshine to dry for four days; on average, the dipping and drying process takes about 40 to 45 days.

On average, it takes up to four months to complete 500 meters of Lãnh Mỹ A silk. During periods of heavy rain, when the dyeing process is delayed, it can take even longer than four months. They say the value of an item sometimes lies not in its material worth but in the meticulous craftsmanship of its creator, and that's certainly true. Because of this elaborate and meticulous process, the resulting product is a masterpiece. The fabric is glossy, jet black, soft, and smooth to the touch, feeling cool and silky to the touch, truly captivating.

The process of sun-drying Lãnh Mỹ A silk.

Tan Chau is the only place in Vietnam where the Mac Nua tree still exists. The Mac Nua tree is a woody plant with black bark, thin leaves, and clusters of round, green fruits resembling longan. The sap of the Mac Nua tree is green, but turns black over time, the characteristic deep black color of Lanh My A silk. After harvesting, the large, green Mac Nua fruits are selected, then crushed using a stone mortar or machine and mixed with water to form a thick yellow solution. When exposed to air and heat, this thick yellow solution turns black. On average, it is estimated that 50 kg of Mac Nua fruit is needed to dye a 10-meter length of silk.

The sap of the Terminalia chebula fruit contributes to the beauty of the My A region.

From Tan Chau Silkworm Farm to Bao Loc

Mr. Tam Lang called the day that "the woman of destiny" came to him a day of blessing. "In 1990, 'Rau' came to the Tam Lang weaving workshop to inquire about silk. At that time, nearly 1,000 looms in the area were only weaving nylon thread. 'Rau' urged me: 'Let's go back to weaving My A silk! It must be woven with silk thread, dyed with natural colors, and entirely handcrafted. If you can just make the fabric better than the old My A silk, I will try my best to sell it!' 'Rau' is Rose Morant – a contemporary artist and designer for a luxury French fashion house – who painstakingly came to Vietnam to find a source of handcrafted and unique materials. From Rose's brief and simple explanations, Mr. Tam Lang immediately understood that his task was precisely to create silk fabrics that couldn't be more beautiful, no matter how much time or effort it took."

Counting flaws on a roll of silk is an act that hardly ever crosses the minds of these artisans, who for generations have performed their work as a matter of course, believing that practice makes perfect. Rose Morant, however, demanded strict error control. "In the first year, I was allowed 10 flaws on a 20-meter roll of silk, after that, a maximum of 5," recalled Mr. Tam Lang. If you understand what "flaw" means according to their concept, I believe your dream career will never include the word "silk weaving." Stopping the loom for more than a few seconds, causing the silk thread to "cool," resulting in a mark the size of a split hair when weaving again – this is also considered a flaw, only allowed once per 20 meters of fabric! And in the countless steps of separating/spinning silk, dyeing/washing/beating/drying/ironing silk… which last for many months, there can't be more than 5 mistakes that would require a magnifying glass to find – doesn't that make you feel sick?

Due to Rose's "crazy difficult" demands, the silk fabric manufacturer had to relocate its source. The climate in Bao Loc, Lam Dong, is cool and humid year-round, making it the only place in Vietnam where silkworms originating from Mount Fuji, Japan, can be raised. A good silkworm can spin about 700 meters of silk, and beautiful silk relies on this silk. Therefore, silk weaving requires selecting Grade 1 silk, taken from healthy silkworms whose cocoons mature in the spring. The silk threads are long, smooth, soft, and seamless, with an ivory white color that looks transparent like fishing line. When Bao Loc silk arrives at the Tam Lang factory, skilled weavers spin the threads (each weft thread is made from 8 cocoons, and each warp thread from 10 cocoons). Weavers set up their looms, constantly monitoring the fabric to avoid errors. Any slight ripples in the threads must be carefully removed, and the joints between the sections must be concealed so that the entire piece of silk appears to be woven from a single thread. Even after the fabric is woven, a very careful person is still needed, wearing glasses and using tweezers to meticulously examine every millimeter to "save" any slightly rough threads on the silk surface. Then the silk is boiled to remove all the silkworm glue, before being dyed. 100 kg of finely ground mulberry fruit will provide enough dye to color 20 meters of silk.

The first dyeing process takes 9 days with 27 dyeing, washing, drying, and re-dyeing steps… The second process follows the same procedure for 9 days. The third process takes 6 days. The first three dyeing steps allow the silk threads to absorb the resin from the mulberry tree, making the fabric firm and ensuring its durability. Care must be taken to avoid excess resin, otherwise the fabric will be too heavy. If there is too little resin, the black color will not be deep enough and will fade easily. At the fourth dyeing step, the dyers begin to adjust the color evenly. The silk is then pounded to break the fibers so that the dye penetrates deeply into the core of the silk, resulting in a vibrant, intense black. The fifth dyeing continues to give the fabric a glossy finish, after which it is washed and pounded. At this point, the fabric is almost fixed in appearance, but a soft, caressing feel is needed – so they move on to the sixth dyeing step: the fabric is pounded thoroughly, washed with water from the Lãnh River, dried, and then ironed perfectly flat. “There’s no exact number of dyeing cycles for silkworm cocoons, because in bad weather, the silkworms don’t absorb the sap, so Da Mot silk alone had to be dyed more than 50 times. To get a piece of My A silk with its shimmering, cool, smooth black color against the skin, it takes about 100 dyeing cycles, 20 washing and rinsing cycles, and about 10 beating cycles…” – Nguyen Huu Tri counted on his fingers and toes, then shook his head helplessly at the complexity of the numbers. Tri also counted that one meter of silk has 13,000 threads running across it, meaning 104,000 cocoons are needed to produce the silk. How can the wearer imagine carrying on their body the essence of so many lifetimes of silkworms?

From weaving to dyeing a piece of My A silk takes four months. “With Rose’s meticulousness, we had to produce silk that was ten times more beautiful than before,” Mr. Tam Lang recounted, simply like describing where he had just sat that morning. In 1991, the first 500 meters of silk were produced according to “Rose’s standards.” Even though it didn’t meet the requirements, Rose still bought it, encouraging and mentoring the Tam Lang family to perfect their weaving and dyeing techniques. In 1992, they had woven 1,000 meters of silk, meeting 70% of the requirements. They worked together slowly and steadily, without impatience, discouragement, or hesitation. And from 1995, My A silk met the standards to be used as a raw material for many luxury fashion brands worldwide. Then Rose Morant left Vietnam, and her company was sold to Hanoia – Vietnam’s first high-end lacquerware manufacturer. Honoring and preserving the essence of craftsmanship is the path Hanoia has chosen, and with the affection and commitment to "caring for" Lãnh, Hanoia has continued Rose Morant's aspirations. A true and trustworthy person, Tám Lăng still adheres to her promise: to weave only the finest fabrics.

Mr. Tam Lang has now retired, handing over his weaving workshop to his son. On a scorching midday, Tri led us to the mulberry fields, gesturing with his hand: “ The whole area grows mulberries just to sell to my family. If the harvest is good, there’s enough mulberry to dye 10,000 meters of fabric, but currently my family only produces 3,000 meters. We could weave up to 6,000 meters, but Hanoia tries very hard and can only sell that much. I’m very worried about the mulberry crop. If people can’t sell the fruit, they’ll cut down the mulberries to plant other, more profitable crops. In Cambodia, mulberries have been wiped out; only a few orchards remain here in Tan Chau…”

What about the domestic retail market? Tri shook his head sadly; the flamboyant aesthetics and fast-paced consumer habits left Lanh My A with no room for maneuver. Making the silk was hard work, but using it was almost as difficult. Lanh The dress had to be hand-sewn; if a sewing machine was used, it had to be an extremely slow one, using a round-tipped needle – only then would the silk fabric not tear at the seams. The cost of materials alone to make one dress was millions of dong, and it was only available in black, requiring entirely handcrafted work… such fuss over clothing was not common.

Trí picked up the mulberry branch, stroking it gently, and recounted in a weary, affectionate voice, like someone talking about a beloved treasure: “It’s a troublesome thing. When the mulberry sap is at its best, it coincides with the long, persistent rainy season. Pushing the fabric out to dry, constantly drying it to prevent mold, and dyeing it repeatedly—so much hardship. When the sun shines and the fabric dries, the mulberry season is over. That fruit must be used immediately while the sap is still fresh; you can’t store it away and wait for a better day. Just finding a place to dry it is finicky. We dry it on grass, but the grass has to be stiff enough to support the fabric in the sun, yet soft enough not to scratch it. Even in such a vast drying area, every blade of grass is perfectly tall, as if measured with a ruler. It seems the more difficult it is, the more my father loves the craft. He only fears that when he gets old and senile, there will be no one to keep the rhythm of our passion for the craft alive, and the mulberry will be neglected…”

Finding colors for Tan Chau silk

Tri is shouldering the responsibility of being the last person to weave My A silk. This mystical and beautiful silk, like a melancholy, may continue to thrive or perish – it all depends on Tri. “Ms. Rose wished for My A silk to be multicolored, but only on the condition that the dyes were entirely natural.” This seemingly random wish of the French woman who wholeheartedly dedicated herself to reviving My A silk was, for Tri, a debt of gratitude he had to repay. So he set out to find new dyes. From 1997 onwards, Tri extracted colors from earth, rocks, tree bark, leaves, roots, stems, wood cores… with the most elaborate experiments he could imagine. By 2003, Tri had found seven new colors for Tan Chau silk (the original silk only came in the natural black or ivory white colors of silkworms). At the end of 2015, when we visited Tan Chau, Tri showed us his color chart. Tri's silk already has 12 colors, but he still harbors a sense of unfulfilled ambition: "The colors from nature are unpredictable. Dyeing is easy, but how to make that color strengthen the fabric's structure, making it more durable and colorfast like the 'Mắc Nưa' (a type of natural dye) – I still haven't found that yet…" Tri is obsessed with the blue tone, a color that cannot be retained, beautiful and ready to fade and disappear. Tri still dreams of the ancient Melaleuca trees of Tan Chau, a species now extinct, whose sap, according to the elders, is said to have a vibrant blue color that adheres firmly to the dye. "Who knows, maybe it will be a kind of 'Mắc Nưa' in blue?! I must go find it…"

In Tam Lang's dyeing workshop, there's a bundle of brooms made by hand, brought from the mountains of Ninh Thuan. "That's the ancestral broom of the dyers," Tri said respectfully. The broom is used to dip into water and then sprinkle it onto the fabric, ensuring it's sufficiently damp before being put into the dyeing machine. A skilled dyer must carefully monitor the water level; if the fabric is too dry, it won't absorb enough mulberry resin, and if it's too wet, the mulberry resin will "vomit" out, requiring a second dyeing session. In the generations-old secret of the silk-making craft, no one uses any other method of sprinkling water on the fabric. "We believe that only by using the correct ancestral broom will the My A silk become soft and beautifully glossy…"

Belief is an invisible, intangible power, yet it is undeniably magnificent. Perhaps, Mr. Tam Lang, and now Nguyen Huu Tri, embarked on the long, solitary journey through the remote My A region with belief as a protective shade? And perhaps, with only belief as his sole asset, Tri will one day find the ancient Melaleuca tree – a mythical fossil resurrected. Surely, the My A region will take on a new beauty with its strange, vibrant green foliage…

True to his word, Tri temporarily set aside his construction career and embarked on a journey to the Khmer brocade weaving villages in An Giang and Cambodia, and then to the villages in the Central Highlands to learn the secrets of dyeing. Whenever he found a root, leaf, or bark suitable for dyeing, he eagerly brought it back to experiment. However, because the silk material of Tan Chau was different from the brocade of the ethnic minorities, it wouldn't absorb the dye. For three years, he tirelessly pounded, boiled, and fermented dozens of leaves, roots, fruits, barks, and tree trunks in various environments, temperatures, and light conditions, but Tri failed every time. Many nights, sitting dejectedly looking at the pile of stained silk resembling rags, he sighed in frustration...

By 2003, Nguyen Huu Tri's dream of finding colors for silk had come true. On his 30th birthday, he produced a batch of amber-colored silk, followed by lotus pink, cocoa, gray, earthy tones, indigo, and burgundy.

The entire silk fabric is woven from a single thread.

The Lãnh Mỹ A silk is dyed using the fruit of the *Mắc Nưa* tree.

References:

1. Thanh Nien Newspaper

2. Nguoi Lao Dong Newspaper

3. Tamson