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Come to Thailand for glorious silk goods?plus ancient temples, decadent hotels and other exotic offerings.

When I was a child, I traveled with my parents to Bangkok, Thailand's capital city. Instantly, I fell in love with the romance of the place: the boats that filled the Chao Phraya River, and the gold-leafed palaces and temples, with their swooping roofs that end in graceful, upward-curling eaves. Most of all, I loved shopping with my mother. I remember sitting on a mountain of luscious gem-colored silks in the Jim Thompson shop as she searched for the perfect fabric for a dress she would have made by a local tailor. The threads of Thai silk were heavier than those in the French or Chinese silks I was used to, and there were nubs in the fabric that gave it the appearance of having been made by hand, even though it wasn't.

Thailand's artisans produce a dizzying array of beautiful crafts, but none is as world-renowned as the strikingly colorful hand-woven silk. Each part of the country is known for a particular art, and it's in the Isan region where hand-weaving flourishes still. If you're adventurers willing to wander off the beaten path, a trip to Isan provides a chance to buy silk directly from the women who weave it, and who will bring their handiwork out of their homes—straight off the loom—for you to see. But you don't have to go that far to pick up some stunning Thai silk for yourselves. Travelers can easily find anything they want in Bangkok, and can stay in a honeymoon-worthy, lap-of-luxury hotel while they're at it. Recently, I decided to return to this playground of my childhood to have some clothing made for myself, just as my mother had done years before.

Weaving a Tale

Exotic Bangkok was exactly as I remembered it: chaotic, fascinating and humid. The streets were more crowded than I recalled, but they were still filled with the aromas of jasmine and curry, and decorated with red ginger blossoms. Bangkok's luxury hotels are memorably plush, yet you can stay at even top-of-the-line properties, in a room with a rain shower and a private balcony that offers views of the Chao Phraya River, for example, for a very low price. I checked into the much-touted Peninsula Bangkok hotel, a glittering glass high-rise on the river, where all 370 rooms have water views and the pool offers a panorama of skyscrapers.

The next Saturday, I took one of the Peninsula's shuttle-boats across the river to the elevated Sky Train, which soars over the city's famously clogged streets. From there it was a quick ride to the Chatuchak Park Weekend Market, the first stop on my quest for Thai silk. In this miraculous maze of stalls, everything from cantaloupe juice to live chickens to stunning purple and fuchsia orchids is for sale. The market takes place every weekend, rain or shine, and while Bangkok's weather is always hot and humid, I lucked out with a dry day.

I got a map and headed for the areas where the silk vendors work—which, strangely enough, were marked as "Miscellaneous" and "Antiques." I walked by vividly colored produce, including shocking-pink dragon fruit, hairy red rambutan and grape-sized, rough-skinned longan with their sweet, translucent centers. Then I got to the area where vendors sell intricately woven baskets from Thailand's Ang Thong region, hill tribe artifacts, and old sarongs, made of hand-woven silk and cotton, that make beautiful wall hangings. And, of course, there was silk, silk and more silk, from Thailand and Laos and Cambodia.

I didn't find a material that I wanted to purchase, so I decided to get a Thai iced tea, made rich and sweet with condensed milk, and move on to some shops that specialize in Thai silk, including the stores I remembered from my childhood, such as Shinawatra and Anita Silk. I found what I wanted at Anita. The shop has bolts and bolts of Thai silk and pieces of mut mee, or silk woven in the Isan style, in which a pattern is tie-dyed onto the thread before it's woven. Because it's hand-made, the pattern emerges from the loom with its images slightly blurred and out of focus. This is the traditional Thai silk. You can haggle with the sales clerks, and it is expected, but it's hard to ask for a deal when presented with such exquisite, painstaking work.

I selected a couple of yards of Thai silk in the color of condensed milk. I also picked up a half-dozen colorful pillowcases. I knew that, when I got home, I could fill them with down and use them to dress up my dowdy couch. It was a small purchase, but it would make a big difference.

Exhausted from a long day of shopping, I returned to my hotel, took a dip in the pool, and then treated myself to a "Thai massage" to soothe my muscles. The masseuse applied acupressure to loosen up the knots. By the time he was done, I felt like I was walking on clouds.

Threads of Time

After several days of sightseeing and visiting a few of Thailand's magnificent temples, I ducked into a tailor's shop in River City, a high-end shopping mall with expensive, and generally respected, boutiques. (In Bangkok, there are tailors everywhere—in the hotels, around the hotels, in the malls . . . everywhere—but I chose this shop because my concierge said it was reputable.) I wanted to have a dress made, and I had heard that it's a good idea to take a favorite article of clothing to be copied. So, I handed over my favorite linen shift and the cream-colored silk I'd bought. If I hadn't brought a dress to be copied, it wouldn't have been a problem: The shop was full of patterns, and the seamstresses were willing to offer up ideas, too. A seamstress pinned the material on me, tweaked it, frowned, tweaked again, and then finally smiled. She told me to come back in a couple of days. I walked out of the shop and into the heat of the day, ready to explore the sacred grounds of the Victorian-Thai-style Grand Palace, which looks more Western than first-time visitors probably expect, and the stunning temple Wat Po—also known as the "Temple of the Reclining Buddha," and home of a prominent massage school.

Just two days later, my dress was ready to be picked up. That night, I wore it to the Shangri-La hotel's riverside restaurant, where I sat, watching the lighted boats chugging by. More than once, I found myself glancing down, smiling at the way my new silk dress glowed in the candlelight—and I knew my mother would have approved.