The Embroidered Car
A stubborn idea.
I can’t remember exactly when the idea came to me, embroidering a car. But once it hit, it wouldn’t leave. And Jaipur played along. It was already my creative playground: block print, rugs, embroidery, felt, handmade paper. Remained: “find the car”.
The Ambassador was the obvious choice. Vintage lines, Indian icon, somewhere between prestige and the everyday. I was looking for a second-hand one. It was while talking about it to Yaddu Singh, a friend and hotelier in Jaipur, and the project took off. He said: “Let’s buy it new.” He would fund it, I would design it. His structure, my vision. Done.
Everything moved at once. We drew the patterns, made full-scale templates, checked the spacing for every perforation. Each stitch five millimeters apart. Every shape, smoothed. The bodywork stripped, repainted, filled.
The interior was handled with the same care: hand-embroidered mirrors, khadi lining the ceiling and doors, block-printed fabric on the seats. Hand-felted rugs completed the scene. The taxi became a cocoon.
The car was meant to reach Paris in time for Maison & Objet. It arrived too late. The impact was lost. That story takes place in an era when we were not aware of carbon footprints.
So I thought: what if I had it painted? Like the old hand-painted cinema posters in Jaipur. We found a workshop. A full-scale canvas. Every detail reproduced. Then embroidered. As if the car was living a second life. The canvas went to Paris. Displayed in my boutique Rue Caumartin. And the car too. Two versions of the same gesture. The object, and its shadow.
The world didn’t look. No press, little coverage. But it left a mark. Two years later, an Indian designer launched a similar project. He had seen the car.
If I did it again, I’d push further. But I have a sweet memory for that first time. It contains everything: instinct, desire, the leap into the unknown, the hard work, the patience.
Most of my projects begin this way. A stubborn idea. I don’t always have a plan. But I know I’ll move forward. I talk, I propose, I gather people around it. And they follow. Because they know I won’t let go.
I remember the evening I told Yaddu about the car. I left this dinner with a deal. A brand new car. A carte blanche.
Now, the car is somewhere in Jaipur, between Samode Haveli and Samode Palace. Maybe still riding through the streets. Like an idea that got its chance, and seized it
Valérie never creates twice the same 'piece'
What a beautiful ride... Keep inspiring us all.