Fresh take on classic Chinese dress
By Ann Mah
International Herald Tribune
Published: September 30, 2005
BEIJING: Lu Ping stitched Western-style suits and drab Mao jackets for five years, yet he always wanted to create the traditional, form-fitting Chinese dresses known as qipao. But when the Xian native decided to study the time-honored craft of qipao tailoring, he discovered there were no traditional dressmaking schools or instructors in Beijing.
Instead, he taught himself, spending six months poring over books that detail the classic techniques. “In Beijing, no one is teaching this traditional culture,” he said.
China’s growing thirst for international fashion often comes at the expense of traditional tailoring methods. Young women are more interested in Chanel than qipaos, and few are willing to learn tedious skills like embroidery or hand stitching. Yet a handful of Chinese designers is breathing new life into antique styles, incorporating them into modern designs, or teaching them to young workers from rural areas.
“I was inspired to make qipaos because they’re so beautiful,” Lu said. “And no one else was doing it.” He opened his shop, Lu Ping Trendsetter, eight years ago and now employs several young women from the countryside, teaching them to create the fine details that are so important to the dress’s smooth, body-skimming fit. Qipaos, which are also known by their Cantonese name, cheongsam, require complicated, hand-sewn hems, and ornate, handcrafted buttons, which need a full day of stitching. “City girls don’t have the patience for this kind of work,” he said.
The designer Gu Lin’s modern clothes incorporate classic Chinese touches such as wide sleeves and high-necked Mandarin collars, but she is famous for her elaborate, hand-worked embroidery. A graduate of the prestigious Tsinghua School of Arts and Design, and a former costume designer, Gu opened her shop, Red Phoenix, nine years ago. She describes her style as “minority chic;” her inspirations include the distinctive textiles and complex needlework of China’s ethnic groups.
In the beginning, Gu combed local markets for antique, embroidered panels, which she would feature in simple, clean-line clothes. “But it wasn’t convenient; the pieces didn’t flow,” she said. Gu hired an expert to create the intricate needlework, but soon realized that the elderly woman’s old-fashioned designs were at odds with her modern vision. And so, Gu decided to make her own embroidery, spending four years studying the craft under the watchful eye of the older expert.
“I love it. It’s a very womanly task,” she said.
Gu designs each piece of embroidery to match the flow of the garment. Vibrant dragons spring across skirts, and sleeves are adorned with bright swirls of surf, giving her structured styles a majestic air. In fact, much of Gu’s embroidery is influenced by the Imperial Qing dynasty designs that were once worn solely by the emperor. Today, anyone can wear a dragon or phoenix, and they remain the most popular embellishments, she said.
Her clothes, which range from 500 yuan, or about $60, for a plain jacket to 100,000 yuan for richly ornamented gowns, are all made to order and take two weeks to a month to complete. Gu teaches young women traditional needlework techniques, though she acknowledges the work is tedious. “It’s bitter labor,” she said. “We have a lot of turnover. It’s difficult to find people who love to embroider.”
He Hongyu trained as an architect, but she always had an interest in designing clothes. “Whether you’re designing buildings or clothes, they both use texture and color,” she said. Her store, Five Colors Earth, began in 1996 as a traditional Chinese crafts workshop where she organized classes on batik, pottery, and papermaking.
“It all started with my love of Chinese folk art,” she said. “I’d also collect and try to sell old embroidery.”
She designed a few pieces of clothing – relaxed silk jackets and fluid trousers – that she embellished with small touches of minority embroidery. To her surprise, the chic yet comfortable clothes became a hit overseas; today she sells 80 percent of her ready-to-wear line to American boutiques.
China’s Miao and Dong minorities reside in rural pockets of the country’s southwestern provinces and have a rich tradition of creating textiles, particularly exquisitely embroidered baby carriers, He said. “Young women make these carriers before they get married,” she explained. “In these poor areas, it used to be that only one out of three children survived, so to make a beautiful baby carrier was almost like a prayer for the baby to live.”
He regularly visits Miao and Dong villages in Guizhou, Guangxi and Hunan provinces to purchase embroidery and commission work. She feels her designs help preserve a dying tradition.
“Young people don’t wear embroidery anymore,” she said. “This is like their grandma’s work. I’m trying to give it a new life.”
In fact, all three designers hope their work will inspire a new generation to continue these fine traditional crafts. Lu Ping plans to open an embroidery bar in a converted Beijing courtyard house. “Young people can go there for a drink, and take an embroidery class,” he said.
Gu Lin feels her designs connect people to the past. “Wearing my clothes is like being a part of history and culture,” she said. “I know I can’t make big money doing this, but I do it because I love it – and to keep the tradition alive. After me, I don’t know if anyone will do this kind of work.”