Blocks without Boundaries
Written by Vikram Joshi
Indienne: Cloth That Crossed Oceans and Stirred Empires
Between the 17th and 19th centuries, a fabric quietly arrived in Europe—and unsettled it entirely.
Indienne was the name given to printed cotton textiles produced in Europe, inspired by the extraordinary hand-printed cloths of India. The word itself simply meant “from Eastern India,” though it travelled under many names: Madras, Pékin, Perse, Gougouran, Dames, and Cisacs. Whatever the name, the effect was unmistakable.
These textiles sparked riots. They sent men to forced labour. They built fortunes, ruined industries, seduced millions of women across France and beyond, and altered the course of European textile history forever.
Arrival from India
In the early 17th century, genuine Indian hand-block printed cottons entered France through the port of Marseille. Light, breathable, and unlike anything Europe had seen before, these fabrics carried colours so vivid that washing seemed only to intensify their brilliance. The dyes—fast, luminous, alive—astonished everyone who touched them.
Traders quickly realised their value. Imported from India and sold at a premium, these textiles became the indulgence of the rich and famous. What began as a fascination soon became an obsession.
From Languedoc to the Riviera, Indienne fabrics spread rapidly, passed from hand to hand, wardrobe to wardrobe. Demand soared. The bourgeoisie competed fiercely, snatching the cloth from one another, desperate to own what felt new, exotic, and impossibly modern. When Madame de Sévigné adopted the style at the court of Louis XIV, the fate of Indienne was sealed—fashion had spoken.
Imitation, Industry, and Resistance
As demand grew, French dyers and manufacturers—known as Indienneurs—began reproducing these Indian textiles for the local market. With the support of Armenian traders and technicians skilled in dyeing and printing, workshops opened in Arles, Avignon, and Nîmes. From there, Indienne travelled onward to Italy and Spain, spreading through fairs such as Beaucaire and embedding itself deeply into European trade.
But popularity has consequences.
The affordability and appeal of printed cottons threatened established silk and wool industries. Alarmed, these powerful guilds pushed back. In 1664, King Louis XIV and his minister Jean-Baptiste Colbert founded the French East India Company to control and legitimise the trade of Indian textiles—many of which had been entering France illegally.
By 1686, pressure from silk and wool manufacturers resulted in a sweeping ban: the import and production of printed cottons were outlawed.
Banned Cloth, Defiant Hands
The ban was ruthless. In 1689, French printers who attempted to resist were publicly punished—their wooden blocks destroyed in town squares as a warning. Some printers fled to Avignon, then a papal enclave beyond French law. Others escaped to Switzerland and Germany. The economic fallout was severe.
Eventually, the state relented slightly: Marseille printers were permitted to produce Indienne—but only for export. Selling within France remained illegal, and enforcement grew harsher.
Yet craft has a way of surviving.
By the mid-18th century, block printing quietly resurfaced. By 1754, Marseille alone housed fifteen active factories. In 1759, the ban on domestic sales was finally lifted. French customers could once again buy locally produced printed cottons—now favoured over heavily taxed Indian imports.
By 1790, Indienne had returned to its place as the most fashionable fabric of the time.
Souleiado: Where the Blocks Remember
In 1995, during a visit to the south of France, I found myself inside the archives of Souleiado—a name that poetically translates to “when the sun breaks through the clouds after rain.”
Souleiado is more than a company. It is a custodian.
Founded in Tarascon around 1806 by Jean Jourdan, and later managed by his son Mathieu until 1882, the company passed into the hands of Paul Veran—who dedicated himself to preserving hand block printed textiles. Veran collected tens of thousands of original wooden blocks from workshops that had closed across France, safeguarding a disappearing legacy.
When he died in 1916, Charles-Henri Deméry took over—driven by an almost obsessive love for printed cloth. In 1939, his nephew Charles transformed Souleiado into an international brand. With his wife Hélène designing garments, the first boutique opened in Saint-Tropez in 1947.
Until 1977, Souleiado continued hand block printing alongside mechanical methods. Eventually, as in India, the process became commercially unsustainable. Yet the blocks endured.
Today, Souleiado holds one of the largest collections of historical woodblocks in the world. To walk among them is to feel history under your fingertips.
I was fortunate enough to do exactly that.
