The Fantastic Beasts of Ancient China

IMPORTANT: WE HAVE MOVED!
CLICK HERE FOR OUR NEW SITE!

It’s with great amusement that I realised that there’s an ancient Chinese creature in the latest Fantastic Beasts series—The Qilin 麒麟 (pronounced Chillin, Spoilers on Qilin in the show available HERE). In recent years we have seen how ancient Chinese/East Asian mythical creatures are being represented in many of the Western shows such as Shang Chi (Morris’ my favourite, naturally), and now Harry Potter.

9-tail fox and Morris

Shang Chi mythical creatures

Qilin in Fantastic Beasts

There are many extremely interesting records of fantastic beasts in ancient Chinese texts from thousands of years ago, of creatures far beyond our imaginations. If I have time, I will get to some of them but let me just state the most familiar strangers in the lot — the kind that you probably have heard of (if you’re into Chinese shows, or Fengshui) but not really quite sure what they really are.

These creatures were not only used by China, but the entire Sinosphere which extends to the rest of East Asia and some Southeast Asian countries with strong Chinese influences.

PRESENTING:

The Four Guardians 四象— Vermillion Bird, Emerald Dragon (this name is contentious and I will explaining due course why), Black Warrior and White Tiger.

Motif design on the eaves of roof tiles in China over 2,000 years ago were of the 4 guardians

CHINESE ARCHITECTURAL FEATURE—FANCY AND FUNCTIONAL ROOF

The Chinese roof is made up of quite a few different types of tiles, each serving a different function. The part where it has large surface for motifs, were mainly for the purpose of preventing rainwater from seeping into the wooden roof structures, and to prevent the water droplets from corroding the building base originally.

Then, they got fancier.

In case you are wondering, why are the roof tiles round, and how does it work? Here’s a quick view of the traditional Chinese roof:

There’s the circular shape tile cap that covers the end of the entire line/row of barrel tiles (bamboo or pipe-like shape), and there is the crescent shaped drip tiles between the circular caps (as in water droplet, which was literally meant for water to follow the tip and fall down in a line when raining).

This feature is not exclusive to the Chinese and we can see similar examples in Greek and Roman roof of similar period. They are called the antefix, and they served similar function as the Chinese eave-end tiles.

FANCIFUL HISTORY

The Eave-end Tile (cap at the end of the tile) has a history of over 3,000 years in China, from semi circular shapes to round shape by the Han dynasty (2,000 years ago).

The motifs too, evolved from the more stylised totem-looking designs of the Warring State to more naturalistic ones of animals, plants, insects around the Qin dynasty (slightly over 2,000 years ago). And by then, circular eaves tiles became increasingly common.

Left: Tao Tie beast with dragon motif from Warring State (circa 2,500 years ago). The Tao Tie beast is just mega foodie, something many of us can relate to.

The Four Guardians series of rounded Eaves Tiles were particularly popular and iconic of the Han dynasty, which was the peak of the Eaves Tile’s development. Later on in the 1,000 years that followed, with the popularisation of Buddhism from post-Han through Tang and Song Dynasty, lotus motifs also became key motifs on these tiles. NOTE: This is not to say that lotus motif did not exist prior to the introduction of Buddhism to China, just that the form and significance of the lotus, and the popularity of use were markedly different pre and post Buddhism.

In the last 500 years during the Qing dynasty, the focus was mainly on the imperial roof tiles, which were generally of dragon motifs. The roof tile design evolution also kind of stagnated as more focus went into the development of wall tiles used by the commoners.

This is my favourite Eaves Tile design so far, the deer one on top comes next in line.

ANCIENT CHINESE OLYMPIC RINGS?

From top, clockwise: Black Warrior, Emerald Dragon, Vermillion Bird, White Tiger

Like how the Olympic Ring symbolised all the colours of the world’s flags (hah, yes it’s not the 5 continents!), the Chinese used these four symbols and colours to give representative meanings and characteristics to the world and the natural order of things.

Deep. I know.

Everything in the Chinese culture is so connected and inter-referencing each other. And they sprung off to another system of symbolism and more self-referencing so you had to peel away a lot of those layers to get to the very core origin: I-Ching and Astrology.

While you’re reading your horoscope for the day, rest assured that the ancient Chinese thought that the stars and their alignment told them a lot about their world as well.

INDIGENOUS CHINESE ASTROLOGY

Of course, the Four Guardians (literally translated as the “Four Symbols” actually) held important, symbolic meanings, and was related to the Tai-Chi logo you are familiar with. The Tai-Chi logo further extended into the octagonal trigram that people always associate Taoists with:

I know, how is this remotely relevant to the animals?!?

Well, the animals came about when the ancient Chinese started mapping the stars they saw in the night sky, mapping them out, and dividing them into quarters. And there had to be a system of reference, so they referenced the I-Ching which a very profoundly complex book that supposedly summarises the world’s natural order. This book was henceforth referenced by the Chinese in every single thing they do, from fortune telling to medicine, and by extension, the Chinese sought to categorise and make sense of the world through the rules laid out in this book (different period, different interpretation, different manifestations).

And so… the night sky was sorted into 4 groups (yes, like harry potter’s sorting hat, they were given different characteristics, and animals were assigned to it). And that is how the 4 creatures got allocated a spot to represent a lot of the other symbolic meanings which I will go into in the respective articles.

Before the introduction and popularisation of horoscopy astrology as we know today in the 8th century China (brought to China from the ‘West’ i.e. Central Asia/Iran and India), Chinese had their own astrological practices and charts but it was off limit to the commoners. Due to trade and cultural exchanges on the silk road over 2,000 years ago, the Chinese gradually adopted Western astrological ideas (we had Indian astrologers in the Chinese imperial court around the 8th century.

Top left: Greek Terracotta gorgoneion antefix 580-570 BCE
Top right: Taotie motif from similar period
Bottom left: Capricorn motif of Emperor Augustus period some 2,000 years ago in Rome
Bottom right: Four beasts representing the 28 constellations in Chinese astrology

You can see the similarities between the Greek and Roman antefix motifs (left) and the Chinese ones (right) of similar period. The top row were over, 2500 years ago, and featured a gorgoneion, while the bottom row was about 2,000 years ago featuring animals which were representative of the constellations.

Due to the passing of thousands of years, many things have been so intertwined that it takes some time to thoroughly explain the gist of them (oxymoron, I know). And I will do so in the coming posts!

PROCESS & CONCEPT

For this series, I have worked with someone in the Fashion industry to reinterpret these creatures with a modern twist AND Since I love juxtapositions, I also did a parallel series with more traditional aesthetics. I will be sharing each of them in single, detailed entries coming up as well.

Here’s a sneak peek of the traditional ones:

I think this is enough information for the long weekend.

Happy Labour Day! Have fun trying to make sense of this piece!

Cheongsam as a symbol of “Progress” is so last century

IMPORTANT: WE HAVE MOVED!
CLICK HERE FOR OUR NEW SITE!

In fashion, things are always cyclical. So it’s without a tinge of irony when I say that the most fashionable thing to happen in 2020s is for a fashion designer to claim that Cheongsam is a symbol of “Progress”, echoing her Eurocentric predecessors at the turn of last century somewhere around the 1920s-30s.

Sometime during that period, the women were dressed in very baggy robes or blouse and skirt combination (depending on your ethnicity), and while the form remained fairly similar to the untrained European eye, the focus throughout Chinese fashion history were really on the motifs (auspicious and seasonal), embroideries, colours, weave of fabric, and many other extremely nuanced things that required a trained eye to identity (thus differentiating those who are ‘in’ and ‘out’ of the privileged group).

I remember taking art history class which taught me that Chinese paintings had no perspective unlike the Europeans, and it was only in recent years when I start to decolonise my knowledge by learning the actual Chinese painting history and philosophy that I realise that like Chinese fashion, it was a hugely misunderstood “fact”.

Back to the last century.

Here’s a few quotes from well known art historian/ historian/ writers who shared this Eurocentric view on Chinese fashion and, by extension, the state of Chinese societies:

Woman around late 19th century

Post Han circa 4th to 5th century CE

Han Dynasty (circa 3rd century BCE to 3rd century CE)

[T]he Chinese family of the last century looked very much like a Chinese family of the Classical age.

Quentin Bell, English Art Historian and Author, 1910-1996

Ok, I’ve put 3 images side by side above, and I don’t know why he thinks that the leftmost (Qing dynasty) looked very much like the other two (“Classical” age) dresses. As an art historian, I find his observational skills extremely lacking.

[The] variations in Chinese dress from dynasty to dynasty… [occur] at the speed of a rather hesitant glacier.

Quentin Bell, English Art Historian and Author, 1910-1996

I’m not even gonna go into dynasty to dynasty. I’m just gonna pick ONE dynasty — Tang dynasty (7th to 10th century) and showing a small fraction of the kind of diversity in fabric, motif, colours, styles (look at those hair and make-up!) and just leave it as that. Strange that people feel so qualified to critique other cultures based on poorly researched information (if at all). Just FYI, women were cross-dressing in male robes as early as Tang dynasty—didn’t need to wait for Qing/Cheongsam.

Quick glance at Chinesen fashion in the last 2,000 years

[The mandarin’s robes] scarcely changed in the course of centuries, but then Chinese society itself scarcely moved at all.

Fernand Braudel, French Historian, 1902-1985

Am I the only one who’s concerned about the lack of rigour in these historians’ research?

And if you think that it’s just the Europeans who thought so, I assure you that self-loathing Asians who internalised such narratives existed way back too. Case in point, famous writer Eileen Chang (surprise, surprise!). Sorry to Eileen Chang fans, I’m really a non-fan here though I did a replica shot of her in 2018 with my good friend who bears a close resemblance to her.

Generation after generation of women wore the same sorts of clothes without feeling in the least perturbed.

Eileen Chang, China born American Novelist, 1920-1995

So here we have quotes from a hundred years ago, defining the level of “Progress” of a society, and a group of women based on how much their dressing adhered to the Western standards of fashion and behaviour.

Basically Western scholars about a century ago sold the narrative (quite successfully) to everyone that the Chinese costume was a symbol of this inert Chinese society that was immobilised by tradition. So Chinese literati who were educated overseas bought that narrative as well, and they started looking down on their own traditions, language and dresses (part of the reason for the advent of Cheongsam). Really there’s a lot of inferiority complex at play in this as well.

Fast forward to the 30s, the Chinese society started to adopt the western cutting for their dresses, which meant more body-fitting dresses, and I presume that was a sign of ‘progress’ to the Western scholars. Similar to how the local designer saw ‘hand shaking with men’ a sign of progress for women… I’m not sure what to feel about that honestly.

A very 60s Cheongsam look

For the longest time I have had an uncomfortable relationship with the Cheongsam because I find it over sexualised and exoticised. I find that it has become a banal symbol of Chinese culture due to its over commercialisation and sexualisation, and it is only in recent years when I start repurposing and tailoring my own cheongsam, and working more with Lin Tong (and doing more reading) that I am starting to feel more at ease with it. Even then, I maintain an earlier style of Cheongsam with minimum (if any) western tailoring cuts because it’s loose fitting, more functional, more comfortable and less objectifying to women’s body. But if women feel confident in them because of the way they feel about their own body (disregarding the male gaze) then that works great too!

But maybe that’s also because I’m in my mid 30s and no longer have a hot bod to flaunt the body hugging cheongsam in! #mombodrockstoo

That’s all for my late night musing triggered by a recent incident. And also a chance to post some really overdue photos.

Tang courtesans唐妓—Trendsetters? Influencers? Celebrities? Nah. They’re just Women of Taste.

IMPORTANT: WE HAVE MOVED!
CLICK HERE FOR OUR NEW SITE!

Entertainers, prostitutes, muse—these are a few of the terms widely used by academics and general public alike to describe female performers in ancient China. The Chinese term for performing artists evolved from a unisex word (伎jì) referring to male and female performers, into a word dedicated to female entertainers (妓jì) in the Tang dynasty (around 7-9th century) likely due to the wild popularity and prestige of being a female performer (also Courtesan) during that period. Thereafter, due to changing value and political systems, the nature of the profession evolved and these women of spiritual pleasure were objectified into women of carnal pleasures.

It’s interesting to note that in the ancient worlds across the world, there are Courtesans of similar natures. They were usually one of the most educated and artistically accomplished women in society, and they produced and inspired great artistic legacies. We see it in the Mesopotamian culture (West Asia i.e. Iran, Iraq, Syria), the Ancient Greek culture, Indian culture as well as Japanese, Korean and Chinese culture. There’s a wonderful book that I highly recommend everyone to read if you are interested in this topic—“Freewomen, Patriarchal Authority, and the Accusation of Prostitution” by Stephanie Lynn Budin.

Scene extracted from Yanzilou: Forgotten Tales (2021)

For the purpose of this article, I shall touch on the extravagant lifestyles that top courtesans enjoyed, and their role in leading the fashion of their times.

Now in case you think that all these women are sex slaves, you couldn’t be more wrong. They were slaves, yes, but not for sex.

There were courtesans, and there were Courtesans.

While Entertainment Houses weren’t exactly the epitome of female liberty and empowerment, they certainly offered these talented women a break from life as a traditional good wife.

FASHION TREND SETTERS

Gold and Silk

Scene extracted from Yanzilou: Forgotten Tales (2021)

Good wives had to adhere to strict rules on dressing—they have to dress in according to the rule book based on their husbands’ title and social status, courtesans were exempted from any rules. In fact, even though gold and silk were only accessible and permitted to be worn by the elites, Courtesans were decked in them in the comfort their entertainment houses because the realm of the Entertainment House was theirs.

And so, they were at the forefront of fashion styles. This continues to hold true until now, where public performers and celebrities were leaders of sartorial styles because they were bold enough to embody it. In fact, their very existence and popularity kind of depends on it. And you can try to spot the many different styles of Tang Dynasty dresses which you probably would never realised was iconic of the period if you just watched period dramas—most period dramas aren’t very period accurate.

Disclaimer: We actually incorporated Tang dresses worn by women across different periods of the dynasty, spanning 300-400 years so you could see the diversity in sartorial choices. Be it of Hu/western influence, or Han Chinese influence. So it was not specific to one particular time period in Tang.

Purple Brows

How Murex Snail looks like although mostly it could also be normal shell colour based on what I saw instead of purple.

Naturally, make-up was a large part of the fashion trends. Starting from the brow, the Tang period women were known for having extremely bold make-up (think Mulan except more tastefully done). There was mention of a compilation of 10 different brow styles of the period, but unfortunately the actual record was missing. The Courtesans, were the main drivers of this change and they were given a special title— the Ambassador of Brows!

If you actually do catch Yanzilou: Forgotten Tales, do look out for Mamapan and her brows in the early stage and you might just spot a tinge of purple. This was an actual pigment that would’ve been used during ancient China to showcase your wealth and connections.

Purple as we all know, is a colour of royalty in the West, and it was actually frowned upon by Confucius as an inferior colour since he saw it as an ‘impure’ colour unlike red, white, black, yellow and green/blue (yes he’s an CYMK fan). But during the Tang Dynasty, purple became extremely popular that the highest level of honour was to be wearing a purple gown in the imperial court, and to be bestowed one by the emperor. Purple brow pigment was also extremely precious. They came from a Mediterranean Sea snail—the Murex snail and the intense and deep purple produced was called the Tyrian purple. Of course, due to different oxidisation process, it might turn blue as well.

Screencap of the “Tyrian purple brow kit” in the Legend of Zhenhuan. Such a far cry from the actual image above right? And the box they used, was a fake carved lacquerware, it’s made of resin and costs 1/10th the price of a real one. I can just see through its fairness despite the low resolution!
The real carved lacquer made by craftsmen, we have in a couple in Yanzilou and you would get to see it in the film experience too.
We will make sure you see it because carved lacquerware started in Tang!

The last I checked, Tyrian purple in today’s market would’ve cost you 300USD/gram from a private seller (before shipping). I don’t think it is commercially available on a large scale since the production is extremely limited. But just imagine in those days, with shipping, it would’ve cost you a bomb. That’s why Tyrian purple brow make-up kit appeared in the Legend of Zhenhuan—it was a tribute item from “Persia”. Only the emperor’s favourite concubine would have access to it.

Don’t ask us how Yanzilou got hold of it. It’s a secret we’ll never tell. 😉

On a side note, I heard from a weaver that there are some places in Southeast Asia that produces similar style of purple dye with some sea snail or creatures. That’s quite an interesting thing to explore further!

Scene extracted from Yanzilou: Forgotten Tales (2021)

ARTS CRITIQUE

Arbiter of Taste & Sophistry

When it comes to the arts, we have to admit that taste is subjective and there’s technically no absolute judgement of good and bad art unless you are an ancient Chinese, of course. In which case, it is always literati-lead. So you see a rejection of life-like painting style in Chinese arts, because the literati found it too literal and lacking in imagination and spirit.

And guess who has got them wrapped around their fingers?

*takes a bow*

We often assume that the Chinese Imperial Exam System was probably one of the most meritocratic inventions of the ancient Chinese and that it had been meritocratic from the start. But back in the Tang Dynasty, it wasn’t so exactly. For one, only the rich could afford to study since cost of paper was extremely high. For two, Tang Dynasty exam submissions were not anonymous. So if you have some kind of reputation, or connections, the examiners could very well choose you over someone unknown.

That’s the plight of many scholars and the only way out, was to have their poems and writings known by the influential officials in the capital.

And the most effective way, is not to cold call. But to go through the Courtesans who would have access to the most powerful men in the country since all state banquets and important events would require their attendance. They in fact, would be invited to the private events as well, to host the sessions.

Scene extracted from Yanzilou: Forgotten Tales (2021)

So there were the courtesans, and there were the Courtesans, and there were the Duzhis who were the most highly regarded Courtesans (like Head Courtesans). The Duzhi’s talents were so highly regarded that they would host drinking and poetry sessions with these influential and highly educated patrons, and be the judge of the merits of the poetry. If you were of a lower level official, I suppose Courtesans would be good enough as well!

So just imagine, these Duzhi or Courtesans started praising a random scholar’s poem, or compose a song and used the scholar’s poems as lyrics… It would’ve been the most effective advertisement/product placement!

Most literature and history text books wouldn’t point this out, but it is precisely because of the courtesan culture, of them singing poems as lyrics, that in the dynasty after Tang (the Song Dynasty), the Song Lyrics became an important for of literary arts.

So how did we get from there, to prostitutes?

It’s the same old story in every civilisation, every culture. Like witches being hunted for their knowledge and associated power. I mean, there’s definitely nothing more badass and threatening than women with a great deal of knowledge, free from the traditional rules of a ‘good woman’, and knows all the secrets of influential men.

Just in case you are not on Facebook or Instagram, and have missed out on the announcement of the upcoming virtual interactive film experience, here’s a sneak peek of it! I realised that not many people can imagine what the experience would be like, and at this point, I can only say that you can choose who you meet in Yanzilou, the premium Entertainment House of the 8th century Tang China, and we have as many as 6,464 possible paths so different people would definitely experience Yanzilou very differently. Just like how it would’ve been in real life.

I will leave the trailer below, and if you’re interested to get a ticket, Early Birds/Black Friday sale is on until end of the month! It’s 25% off the regular ticket ($24) and 40% off the Late Bloomer tickets ($30).

It’s only running from 16 Dec to 31 Dec online, and you will receive informations in due course about how to experience this wherever you are, at your own time, with a cup of good wine/tea in a dark room with a pair of kicks earphones/speakers!

So join us on this time travelling experience this Christmas!

From Hanfu to Cheongsam: Fashion, Gender and Body Politics

IMPORTANT: WE HAVE MOVED!
CLICK HERE FOR OUR NEW SITE!

Because of Fashion’s close associations with consumption, it has often been dismissed as frivolous in modern context. However, fashion, in its fundamental form, has all along been a highly politicised matter. A woman’s body is never her own, and how she dresses, the shape of her body parts, and her fashion choices were more than just superficial indulgences. Fashion has often been, especially in the context of ancient Chinese societies, a highly controversial political and moral signifier.

But you would be mistaken to think that Chinese women were way more repressed than their western counterparts. For one, if you’ve heard of the ‘bra-burning feminist‘ term (which didn’t really happen btw), you might be surprised to know that while this call for liberation from the constraints of bras happened in the late 60s America, Chinese women have been calling for liberation of their boobs in the name of female empowerment way back in the early 1910s! That’s 50 years before!

The next time you see an old photo of Chinese women, or an antique Chinese dress/Cheongsam, notice the chest area. It should be rather flat.

Most people are familiar with the done-to-death use of the bound feet as a mark of female oppression in ancient Chinese societies. But it was believed to be an influence from the West. In their initial stages, it wasn’t even all that small. Rather, it was more of a narrow feet aesthetic. Subsequently, as with everything, it lots its original sense and became festishcised into the form that we recognise today.

Early 1910s was the onset of a huge wave of Western influence in Chinese society. With the fall of the Qing empire, and return of many western-educated Chinese, the concept of “Westernisation” was exceptionally attractive to the Chinese literati. The flapper style in the 20s also caught on its run in China.

While we all know about foot-binding, very few know of the equally long-standing chest-binding practice which coincidentally fitted the flapper fashion in the early 20th century in the West. The irony is that while the women of the West embraced flapper fashion with flattened chest as a symbol of liberation from their corsets, at the same time, the women of China had flat chests as a result of the same constraints that the corsets imposed on their Western counterparts. So even though the more progressive Chinese literatis (men and women) of that time called for a liberation of their ‘natural breasts’ but it was not until 1927 that it was officially launched by the government. So Chinese women still maintained a very narrow and flat side body profile before that.

A more traditional Chinese woman in the early 20s would have her hair long and neatly combed up, and in two-piece dress as that was the traditional way of dressing for thousands of years. The one-piece robe was not a Han Chinese practice after the Han dynasty. Which is ironic but this little detail became relevant in the debate on the origin of Cheongsam.

And the East and the West met in the middle. The western flapper fashion was a natural fit to the Chinese women’s new feminist consciousness and their (newly-liberated)bound-chest silhouette. Think about it this way, if there is a mom-bod trend in fashion now, I would definitely be the biggest avocate and buy a million of the “mom-bod fashion” dresses. #justsaying. That’s probably what went on in China in those days, with women finding this ‘western’, and ‘modern’ fashionable look easy to transit into with their existing body.

Women who just came out of the Qing dynasty period would still have relatively flat chest, and the practice of chest binding and preference for small chest continued in the consciousness of many as a mark of elegance. I know, even my mom who’s born in the 50s still subscribes to that. This coincides with the aesthetics of the Flapper style in the 20s, which adds to the attractiveness and ease of adoption of the western fashion during that period.

The traditional Chinese dress, which is generically referred to as the Hanfu is done with a flat cutting (Kimono has a similar structure). To put it simply, you can put it on a flat surface, and fold it easily without having a lot of uneven parts such as the seams around the boobs and the butts popping out. It is technically not totally flat but that’s a topic for another day.

For the purpose of the shoot, we had all the models binding their chests (if they are well-endowed) so that the fabric of the dresses would drape nicely down instead of having a bulge at the chest level that’s too vulgar for the cutting of the dress. If you think that having feminine curves is what defines a Cheongsam, then you’re probably referring to the less traditional (relatively so) Cheongsams that were influenced by the Western cutting. Early cheongsams were very comfortable, loose fitting and less sexualised. My personal favourite style to go with my mom bod.

Most people probably have tried on a Yukata or Kimono (probably more likely than a piece of Hanfu). And you would have noticed that the general aesthetic is to have a flat chest waist and butt line, essentially having a special bra that presses your chest down is one of the important accessories. Traditional Hanfu, due to its flatness, has similar aesthetics. The explanation which I found through my own experience, is that you would look bloated if you have big boobs as the excess fabric would drape down your body like you are pregnant since it is not fitted to your body shape.

So an ideal Chinese beauty in the last few hundred years, would have no boobs (and shoulders) essentially.

Because fashion is an important way for women to project their ideological stands, you could tell who were the ‘liberated’ new age women and the traditionalists.

There were two camps of women at the turn of the century:

• The traditionalists who kept their hair long, with bound chests, bound feet and loose-fitting Qing dynasty two-piece top and bottom. They would mostly be home-bound.
• The revolutionists who cut their hair short, campaigned for the liberation of natural boobs as a sign of their intellectuality, and a slightly less baggy dress. It could be a mix of western dresses, early form of cheongsam (one-piece and two-piece). And they loved a good party.

The socialites and women from the big families who were educated overseas started cutting and perming their hair, and they design their dresses by merging traditional Chinese elements with the Western styles, and many of them were inspired by the Art Deco style which worked perfectly in an Asian setting as it was very much influenced by the East with its designs peppered with Chinoiserie amongst its other influences.

I wrote ‘liberated’ because you’d have thought that they would’ve been less more moderate in their approach to women’s dressing identity, as the more ‘woke’ group. However, fashion, as always, is bound to be politicised regardless. Haircutting became a political statement, and more educated women saw it as a physical manifestation of their revolution against the patriarch and it was the true spirit of that time.

Before Cheongsam, there were many different types of dress-robe-vest-top styles resembling the eventual form of Cheongsam. They were influenced by both the Han and Manchurian women fashion of that time and evolved organically into the eventual form we know today. Besides the revolution in dressing, there was also the revolution in hairstyles and the cessation of foot binding and chest binding. It was more of a fashion trend as well as a political move towards a perceived liberation of women of that period.

The ‘liberated women’ saw it as a mission to ensure that all the ‘oppressed’ women who still conformed to tradition have their hair cut and started going about forcing everyone to do so. Little did they realise that hair meant so much to the traditional Chinese, not only as a symbol of filial piety, but also as a symbol of one’s very identity, one that is equally important as their ideal of a liberated female identity. So one of the village woman who had her hair forcefully cut, commited suicide. And in an even more extreme case published in a female magazine, it was said that villagers saw women dressed in military wear going around cutting women’s hair, and a group of over 30 women escaped into the middle of a lake on a tiny boat which eventually capsized (presumably drowning everyone on board).

This was so unnecessary on hindsight because top-down approach never works in meaningful conversion. Eventually, women naturally started cutting their hair as they saw more celebrities, socialites/courtesans and famous people doing so. It became so popular that Beijing even started a female hairdressing school in 1928 with a minimum qualification requirement even.

The importance of soft power.

When you look at the old Chinese posters of the republican era, you’d always find women who permed their already very short hair. And even hair perming, went through a politicised process of being first banned by the government to eventually embraced by everyone. What’s interesting is that the first Chinese woman to have been recorded with a permed hair was in 1926, and she went all the way to the Philippines to do so. The price was about the monthly salary of a professor in China’s top university. So those who could afford it naturally were the celebrities, women from rich families and likes, and that became a highly sought after fashion by the masses before being banned in the mid-30s in the name of prudence and simplicity as a highly valued quality of women (with limited success of course).

So, fast forward 100 years or so, women and how we dress/look are still subject of public interest and debates related to morality and value. And we think that we have come a long way? I guess not really!

Public Service Announcement:

This series of photos were taken in partnership with the Sun Yat Sen Nanyang Memorial Hall to create more visual educational content online. They are currently running a Republica era women’s fashion exhibition (a small scale one–managing expectations here) Modern Women of the Republic: Fashion and Change in China and Singapore from now until 12.12.2021.

I’m also going to do a Facebook live lecture on 25 September 10.30am entitled From Hanfu to Cheongsam: Foreign influences in Traditional Chinese dresses, if you miss it or can’t make it due to time difference, you can always visit the museum’s Facebook page and they’ll post the video there!

Meanwhile, I’m still working on the #Yanzilou immersive online film project, hoping to start sharing more with you in mid September, so stay tuned!

We also appreciate contributions to Hanfugirl to allow us to produce and share more topics which are rarely written in English, and even less represented in images. I have a few projects (besides Yanzilou) that I’m dying to make such as the four guardian mythological creatures of the constellations, Chinese Weddings reinterpreted, Chinese gods and fantastic beasts… We’ll get there some day. Slowly, but surely.

Special thanks to Lin Tong for her knowledge, amazing retro vintage hairstyling, hairpin, and the velvet blue dress. Sharon (Dressed up dreams) for light and the Hanfugirls for modelling!

Courtesans – China’s Earliest Poster Girls

IMPORTANT: WE HAVE MOVED!
CLICK HERE FOR OUR NEW SITE!

Chinese Courtesans are probably China’s best kept secret and earliest influencers in fashion and lifestyle.The famous horse-face skirts that were popularly amongst Ming dynasty aristocrat ladies were said to be original worn by the courtesans of the previous period (Song dynasty), and the popularisation of Cheongsam, too, were in part due to the singing girls in early Republican era.

Many of the images and paintings of women in casual poses in the past were often that of the Courtesans.

When we mention Poster Girls of China, we probably think of the posters from the 30s with women dressed in Cheongsam gracing the covers of certain magazines or endorsing certain brands. Any earlier, it would have to be the subject of our discussion today–the courtesan of Qing dynasty.

Postcards of famous courtesans of Qing dynasty, some of these photos made their way into the Forbidden City and collected by the imperial family even.

A quick search of early female portrait paintings, before the onset of photography, you would realise that they are predominantly depictions of noble women. And most of the times, these paintings were kept in private collections with only the formal looking ones available for public display. This is in line with the predominant idea in the last few centuries that women should be as private as possible. Courtesans, on the other hand, obey a totally different set of rules.

The Qing dynasty women featured in this entire article were probably very different from the typical ones you watch on TV. Those wearing a one-piece long robe were the Manchurian women, whereas these are the Han women who retained their two-piece (blouse and skirt) way of dressing despite the Qing government’s call to standardise the Hans’ with that of the Manchurians’.

Unlike what poorly researched and cheaply produced TV shows would have you believe, courtesans of the past were more classy than trashy. They were better educated than the majority of Chinese women and were admired as celebrities since over 1,000 years ago.

The bottom caption indicates that this lady is the Top scorer of the courtesan contest, which isn’t at all like your beauty pageant today–they’re much more focused on virtues and talents instead of sex appeal.

Beauty Pageants amongst courtesans have existed for at least 1,000 years in China, but in 1897, such a contest was formalised and made public through a newspaper in Shanghai. The Courtesan pageant was divided into 3 titles:

• Flower pageant
  Top courtesans who were well-read, educated and knowledgeable. This mirrors the Imperial Exam system which only men could participate in.
  
• Talent pageant
  Taking inspiration from the Tang dynasty Pear Garden arts institution (The first Arts school in Chinese history, set up by the Emperor Xuanzong who personally mentored courtesans/artistes and musicians), this category is to award to a courtesan of the highest artistic attainment.
  
• Leaf pageant
  There’s no flower without its leaves. This category is for the attendants of the top courtesans.

There was no reward for winners of these contests, but their contact details alongside with their nomination write-up would be published for those interested to know more 😉

I guess that’s the earliest form of “paid with exposure”.

A top courtesan reading newspaper and posing for the gram.

Taking inspiration from the western voting system for political representatives, the pageant organiser started probably the earliest form of Voting Contests. The entire contest would start with an open nomination, where every single nomination letter detailing the virtues, beauty, merits, talents, knowledge of the courtesans would be published on the newspaper. Every nomination letter counted as one vote, and it was not limited to any nationality.

In a society where a man could have multiple wives (all of whom would be illiterate or less exposed to the world), Courtesans fulfilled more of a man’s need for romance and companionship on an intellectual level. Therefore being well-educated, skilled in arts, intellectually-engaing, were much more important than their looks.
This is an export oil painting depicitng a “famous courtesan” painted in mid-1800s.

An American was said to have participated in the voting and he even wrote a complaint letter to the newspaper for awarding the title to the ugly ones instead of the good looking ones. Oh, the superficiality!

Little did he know, one of the critical scoring criteria was how many books, and how widely the courtesan read. Oh, the ignorance!

The Courtesan in this photo is entirely decked with silk wounded accessories (very Southern Chinese craft, Hakka in origin) which I commissioned a craftsperson to make based on the paintings. She was also wearing a mock Kingfisher feather earring with dangling pearls. Lace, although not usually seen in Chinese garment of this period, was already used in China in the 1900s.

Now that we’re on the topic of foreign men and their superficial appreciation of the exotic Chinese beauty, we have to mention the oil paintings of Qing courtesans which were sold as souvenir paintings for overseas market.

In the 1800s, Guangzhou was a thriving port for international trade. With that, emerged a popular trade of portrait painting for the general masses, as well as the souvenir paintings. One of the most popular term for painters and shops selling western-style paintings (usually painted by locals in the western style), would have the name “Gua/qua” attached to it, so painters and shops would call themselves [insert name]-Qua. The Qua reference originated from the Portuguese term Quadro (which means frame).

Many of the portraits of women were entitled “Famous Courtesan”, and they looked really quite similar. Most likely a very popular style and design which painters of that period would copy from each other and reproduce at rapid speed for quick sale. It is also because most people would not have access to meet graceful women willing to pose for them regularly, so courtesans would be the easiest to paint.

Of course, we would be naïve to believe that Andy Warhol started the whole Warhol Factory with production lines of artworks in the 1960s. The Chinese, being the production house for many artistic wares (i.e. Chinaware) had been at it for centuries and oil painting was no exception. The well-known Quas of Guangzhou would have many assistants paintings in their workshops and selling them off cheaply to earn quick profit. Most of the times, the export paintings would bear no signatures–nobody cares, unless the painters were well-known in which case they would sign those pieces.

Export painting in progress.

There were many interesting stories of rivalry between fellow painters, foreign painters and local painters, foreign teachers and their more commercially successful student all in the name of profit. And after China lost the first Opium War, it opened up more of its ports, and the exclusivity of Chinese content and imagery in Guangzhou was greatly reduced. The foreign market in the West with their China Mania in the mid 18th century were also increasingly more exposed to Chinese imagery, and were more discerning consumers of such ‘exotic’ souvenir paintings. Eventually, the painters didn’t end up earning much, and some went to Hong Kong, or Shanghai to seek alternative patronage and market.

The type of skirts worn by women of Qing were rather varied and colourful. They were so daring and good with their colour matching, that their rainbow coloured skirts (yes that’s right, I will come to that in the next article) and rainbow stripes were quite something.

While we’re at the topic of foreign influence in Chinese art, I would like to bring your attention to the Qing dynasty Madonna and Child paintings. Jesuits have been in China for centuries since the Ming dynasty, and we could find traces of these localised imagery of Madonna and China since the Ming period. I love how these Madonna and child were obviously Chinese, and shows the importance of remaining relevant to the target audience through decontextualisation. So I thought of doing one of my own (diaper included–Pampers should totally sponsor me :P).

From Hanfu to Cheongsam: The Missing Link

IMPORTANT: WE HAVE MOVED!
CLICK HERE FOR OUR NEW SITE!

While Hanfu is the ‘woke/vogue’ Chinese idea of a traditional dress, Cheongsam is the conventional idea of one. Somewhere between these two, lies the missing link of the late Qing dynasty/early Republican Han women fashion like the invisible middle child.

So I’ve introduced the Manchurian Qing dressing with all its hair, accessories and hierarchies, which is what 90% of us are familiar with through TV series and of course the latest craze Yanxi Palace and Legend of Ruyi. Since most TV shows are more obsessed with the royalties and imperial family, naturally not much is shown on the Han Chinese dressing even though they form the majority.

For men, there’s no difference between the Manchurian and Han Chinese because it was the law for all to convert their way of dressing to the Manchurian style. This was supposed to be for the women and children as well, but rumour had it that during the implementation process, the Han Chinese felt very strongly about their traditional way of dressing as part of their cultural identity (and rightfully so), that they had several bloodshed protests! Eventually, there was an unspoken agreement that the men had to adopt (the Manchurians probably felt that once you emasculate the Han Chinese men with their cultural identity, you controlled the women and children naturally anyway), but left the women and children (and a few other exceptions) alone.

Han women and children continued wearing the traditional Han way without the need to adopt the Manchurian style of dressing.

As such, the Han Chinese women had different sartorial choices from the Manchurian women, and they continued binding their feet according to their own/parents’ aesthetic beliefs while Manchurian women were forbidden to do so by law even though they were drawn to such aesthetics at some point.

Women’s body were and are never our own it seems, and how we wish to treat our body has all along been politicised and moralised by society and the ruling class.

Eurocentric scholars and writers at the turn of last century liked to dismiss the Chinese as devoid of fashion, as if Chinese women were so oppressed by their rulers and system that they were accorded with little means nor awareness of beauty and dressing up.

[The] variations in Chinese dress from dynasty to dynasty… [occur] at the speed of a rather hesitant glacier.

Quentin Bell, 1910–1996, English art historian and author

A visual summary of Chinese fashion in the last 2,000 years. It’s definitely not comprehensive because it depends on how much items from those periods were uncovered through archeological digs, and it did not cover all the different regions in China with their individual practices and habits of dressing. Also, it did not cover the different hierarchies, seasons, and occasions.

[The mandarin’s robes] Scarcely changed in the course of centuries, but then Chinese society itself scarcely moved at all.

Fernand Braudel, 1902-1985, French historian

Left one and two are probably what is considered Classical period dress, and Right is the 19th Century one. I find them very different! Could it just be me?! How can they be seen as looking very much alike!??!

[T]he Chinese family of the last [i.e. 19th] century looked very much like a Chinese family of the Classical age.

Quentin Bell, 1910–1996, English art historian and author

In reality, all these quotes were really fashion historian’s equivalent of saying “All Asians look the same”–All Chinese dresses look the same.

But they’re not alone in that view. The Eurocentric Chinese novelist Eileen Chang also lamented in 1943 that “Generation after generation of women wore the same sorts of clothes without feeling in the least perturbed.” Yikes.

While the general form of top blouse and bottom skirt is maintained from the Ming (left) to the Qing (right) dynasty, the weaving, decorative techniques, colours, embroideries, cutting, and collars have completely changed. In fact, the Ming dynasty (14th-17th Century) alone was known at its time for over 100 styles of dresses, and that is taking into consideration the slow pace of production and consumption compared to the later periods.

Because a Chinese literati said so, it must be right? Were there just the same old Hanfu vs the new Cheongsam, these 2 types of existence and form?

I’m not comfortable with that assumption. Would you assume that quantitative change is more important than qualitative change? Or that the type of change that is more visually apparent is more valuable/legit than the subtle, fine and nuanced change?

To me, it is really the difference in culture. Just the other day, I was reading our friend Eustacia’s post on the different types of Kimono and what to wear for various occasions. And it struck me the Western eyes or the Modern eyes were so overstimulated by their own visual differences that they were unable to appreciate or identify the subtlties in the Chinese or Japanese culture. And which also explains the success of designers like Guo Pei in capturing their attention with the loud and archetypically Chinese designs.

While the most common style was the Mamian skirts (horse face skirts), there were tonnes of variations either within that category, or different styles altogether. They go by the names of “Hundred Pleats Skirt”, “Lunar Corona Skirt” (rainbow pleated skirts, like the rainbow around the moon), “Railing Skirt” (then solid colour stripes at each pleat look like railings), “Phoenix tail skirt” etc.

Fashion, to the ancient Chinese, was more of an exercise of artistic creativity within the appropriate boundaries that ensure that they adhere to the changing seasons, occasions, and hierarchies. Constraints are necessary to create meaningful and artful end products. And that, was what the ancient Chinese women were really capable of as they innovated on the types of weaving, motif, embroidery, dyeing techniques, decorative methods of the dresses.

A large part of this could be due to Chinese women’s training in embroidery. As Professor Marsha Weidner, a modern-day Chinese art historian noted, that through embroidery “women trained their hands and eyes, became attentive the smallest details, refined their colour sense, and mastered a large repertoire of motifs and compositional formulas.”

Qing Han fashion was definitely not the invisible middle child you’d imagine. It was bold, dramatic, yet intricate and sophisticated. It’s hard to pull off those complementary colour matchings but they did. Effortlessly.

If you look unclose at any of the apparels, you would realise that instead of just clothes, they were really works of art. Just like kimono. And while the form remained similar, the embroidery work, colour matching, even the direction of the thread made a lot of difference. Images really don’t do them justice–I just went to the Sun Yat-Sen Nanyang Memorial Hall to see actual pieces and you could really see how intricate the needleworks were, and how each of those dots in black in the images below were made up of hundreds of strands of silk, and which went through hundreds if not thousands of manhours to be extracted, spung, dyed, designed, and finally emboidered in accordance to considerations like occasion, hierarchy, season, aspirations and symbolic meanings.

I know I’m very Asian in my consumption of fashion when I buy all the different colours of the same design if I really liked it, because even just a change in colour, meant a big change for me, especially if it’s the design I like. Whereas I wouldn’t look twice at an ‘ugly’ design even if there were 1,000,000 dramatic variations of that design.

Quality over Quantity, anytime.

If you’d just zoom in to one small part of their dresses–the edges of their sleeves, you would notice a small band of embroidered motif, which usually would’ve be just about 5cm by 30cm or so, and the amount of details in embroidery they put into that is just incredible:

I went to the Modern Women of The Republic: Fashion and Change in China and Singapore exhibition today, at the Sun Yat Sen Nanyang Memorial Hall in Singapore (not Taiwan!). And came across this intricately embroidered pink Cheongsam in early 20th century (should be circa 1910s-1920s), and photos really do not do these embroidery justice:

If you ever get to see them in person, do take note of the size of the forbidden knot/stitch, the uniformity of them all, and also the uniformity of the spacing between the knots, and the gradient of colours in the flowers and leaves. All so effortlessly elegant.

My companion asked me why was it called the Forbidden Knot/Stitch. This romanticised name is given by western marketeers/sellers of Chinese goods to link it to the Orient/Forbidden city (sounds exotic right?) and, to make this craft sound really exclusive for the luxury market— claiming that because it would make embroiders blind with the tiny knots and details (sounds like they could command a super high price with this), it was forbidden in China by orders of the imperial court. But it’s nonsense. You can still go blind from doing many of the other embroidery works if done in poor lighting and the emperor wouldn’t care less!

At the turn of the 20th century, men were cutting their cues and adopting western fashion while the more traditional/good wives would continue their Qing era Han style dressing while the more progressive ones would adopt the western dresses as well.

Because there has been so little attention paid to the Qing dynasty Han women fashion until recent years, this part of Chinese female fashion history has been an extremely underrated invisible middle child despite it being the bridge between the Hanfu of Ming period and the Cheongsam of the 20th century.

Next up, I will look at the early eras of Cheongsam, before it became the Cheongsam we are familiar with today.

Till then, have a think about what is your definition of Fashion, and let me know your thoughts!

Kids in Folk Art & Year of the Ox

IMPORTANT: WE HAVE MOVED!
CLICK HERE FOR OUR NEW SITE!

Many years ago I curated an exhibition in Melbourne’s Brunswick Street Gallery, exploring the boundaries between Folk Art as Fine Art pieces in the setting of a gallery. This remains one of my favourite topics–the breaking of artificial (and pretentious) barrier between what is considered folk (therefore kitschy and low-class) vs fine art. So we have come of the time of the year when folk art and traditions rule our celebrations, and you can never be too kitsch for it–THE CHINESE NEW YEAR! And since today’s the 7th day of the Chinese New Year, also known as the day of the Human/People (we were believed to be created by the mythical goddess on the 7th day), there’s nothing more suitable than to talk about birth and tiny human in this edition!

There is no end to the cliches and stereotypes related to this Chinese festival, but the best part about it is, I’m learning and starting to enjoy these cliches and stereotypes simply because they do reflect the very folk and down-to-earth part about my culture. As a traditionally agrarian society for thousands of years, the farmers were only second to the officials and literati (technically), and their art and customs should be equally celebrated as that of the literati even if they seemed really simplistic and unrefined to our modern consumeristic eyes.

Being an agrarian society means that the folks were deeply atuned to the changing seasons, and the crossing of one entire year to another meant the greatest of all seasonal celebrations. The Nian Hua (CNY folk woodblock prints) were visual representation and expressions of these simple folks’ well wishes for the family, friends, and nation in the coming year, and they were carved onto woodblocks for mass printing so that everyone could have a piece of the well wishes in their household. China is the inventor of woodblock (and later on movable) printing and paper (yes, Gutenberg didn’t invent the printing press), so the practice of printed posters for new year was widespread from as early as the Song dynasty (11th century).

The prints which started out as prints of deities for protection and blessings became increasingly popular in the Ming dynasty that followed, and took on a lot of different subject matters that are much more relatable to the everyday folks by the mid Qing dynasty.

I think for many of us, when we think about the woodblock prints would think of the image of a child with a carp (at least that’s the case for me anyway). So I took the opportunity to dress my tiny new model for a shoot, exploring the different aspects of children’s attire and the symbolism of auspiciousness in the process! It isn’t Chinese New Year Woodblock Print for the folks if it isn’t filled with contrasting colours and auspicious imageries!

One of the most symbolic children’s apparel would be the belly wrap–earliest finding dated to about Tang dynasty in the 7th to 10th century. Although probably not necessarily in the current form as we recognise it to be today, the practice of covering the front area and exposing the back definitely went way back.

Left bottom in red rectangle: children with belly wrap from Dunhuang Grottoes; Right: Children in different forms of red belly wraps from the Song dynasty

It was believed that when you cover the belly area of the child, you are protecting his overall wellbeing and health as the stomach was seen as the master of all 5 major organs, and that it prefers a warmer environment. Basically most of the common illnesses related to kids would/could be attributed to having cold air going through the stomach.

If you noticed the shape of the belly wrap, you would notice that its base is somewhat rounded, instead of the corner of a sharp lozenge shape, and the other 2 corners at the two sides would be sharp edged. Apparently it was to echo the Chinese believe that the sky is round and the earth is flat–the harmony between heaven and earth and that the human is connected with such natural order even for a child. In the more elaborate forms, the belly wrap would be embroidered with all kinds of auspicious motifs such as the “5 vernomous creatures” (snake, toad, scorpion, lizard and centipete). In a society back in those days where infant deaths were abundant, it was hoped that these vernomous creatures would drive away the evil spirit and real

Kids would also always wear what is known as the Longevity Lock necklace, which acts like a goodluck charm. The necklace is in the shape of a Ruyi (Everything goes according to one’s wishes) wish well wishes carved onto them and usually made of gold of silver although there were also those made of jade, silk, fabric and other materials. The origin of it is was due to the fact that in the ancient past especially in the Ming dynasty when the government was trying to push for the use of paper currencies, gold and silver were not permitted to be used for transactions, so the rich would then use whatever gold or silver they had to make into accessories instead. Yes, the TV shows probably had us all fooled into thinking the rich could just take out one of the gold ingots in exchange for things, but the reality is gold was only reserved for high officials and royalties, and in the Tang dynasty it was usually gifted by the emperor so you couldn’t just simply give away or use something the emperor bestowed upon you, could you?

The image of young child in red belly wrap with a longevity neck ring on a lotus might remind you of Thumbelina (Chinese version), but these element make up an iconic auspicious image in Chinese tradition, occasionally with an added frog at the bottom of the painting. It was believed that such image would bless you with many sons as lotus is the homophone of “continuous” and its many seeds symbolises fertility–童锁带莲，贵子连连(Child with longevity lock and a lotus, brings you son one after another).

You would probably think of Nezha, or Hong Hai’er (Red Boy of the Bull Demon King from the Journey to the West), now that we put a lotus, the neck rings and the red belly wrap together.

Left: one of the many images of Nezha; Right: then iconic look of the Red Boy

The original idea of Nezha was actually a Zoroastrian god from the Persian culture–Nowzar, a great warrior and hero. Zoroastrian was very openly accepted and practised by Persian migrants to the Tang empire in the 8th to 10th century. Many deities in Chinese Buddhist and Taoist traditions as we know today are absorbed from different cultures outside of China and Nezha is one of them. Buddhism absorbed Nowzar and then Chinese Taoism followed suit in adopting its story, and somewhere down the road we have a fusion of all these different cultural beliefs and many versions of the story.

The Chinese story of Nezha was that of a righteous and impulsive child born into a noble family in the Tang dynasty with superb combat abilities (despite his young age). He got into a fight with one of the dragon kings (there were different dragon kings governing different parts of the seas), and killed him. In order not to implicate his parents for what he did, Nezha stood before the gods and shaved his own flesh and bones, and severed his own limbs as a form of self punishment. Buddha then reassembled and restored his broken body using the lotus roots for his limbs, and revived him.

The image of the Red Boy is somewhat similar, but often depicted with 2 horns or partially shaved head with islands of long hair tied up/braided up. The greatest difference is, Nezha was seen as a hero, a symbol of filial piety and redemption while the red child was seen as a rebellious demon child. I kind of suspect that this is the Chinese’s way of judging a child by their parents–one is of noble blood, another is of demon blood. The Red Boy is simply another fierce and powerful child, who inherited superb combat skills and power from the combination of his parents–the Iron Fan Princess, and Bull Demon King:

The Bull Demon King was originally a white ox, which managed to obtain supernatural powers. His official wife (haha there’s a mistress somewhere down the road) holds the mythical Iron Fan that could extinguish any fire, and notedly the fire from the Flaming Mountain (Xinjiang region today). The Flaming Mountain is supposedly the hottest place in China, with a temperature of 47.8 degrees Celsius during summer and surface heat of up to 89 degrees Celsius! The Tang dynasty people gave it its name–Fire Mountain.

It was unacceptable for grown adults back then to cut their hair due to a Confucian classic on filial piety stating that your hair were gifts from your parents, and you should take good care of it and not harm/damage/destroy it in any way as acts of filial piety. One of the most insulting punishment in those days was to shave their head off, so you can imagine how serious the ancient Chinese took this matter.

But children, they are exceptions to this rule. In fact, they are supposed to have their head shaved within their first month of birth because of the belief that the delivery process has tainted their body with dirty blood and its associated bad luck, so you have to shave them off in order to not offend the deities when the child get out of the dedicated confinement room. And for girls whose dark straight long locks were symbols of beauty, it was believed that shaving the head meant that the baby hair will grow to darker, thicker strands.

To strike a middle ground (very Chinese, this dedication to maintaining the middle ground), their heads were not to be shaved completely. In fact, they should always have a areas of hair that’s left unshaved. And you can imagine the many different styles of such–the ancients surely exercised lots of creativity in styling their children’s hair. In a painting from the Southern Song dynasty in the 12th century (傀儡婴戏图 Children playing with puppets, below), you could see that each of the 4 children had a different hairstyle. Those who tied them up, used a red string for fastening.

傀儡婴戏图 Children playing with puppets by Southern Song artist Liu Song Nian in the 12th century

There are a lot of other symbolism related to the Nian Hua (Chinese woodblock print), children’s apparels (embroideries, shapes, colours) and children’s accessories (the longevity lock’s motif and word engravings, shapes, material) which I won’t go into detail yet (too heavy for the holiday period). I hope that this entry kind of just open up certain understanding of how important dressing up was to the ancient people, and the rich symbolism and meanings that they embed into even the most mundane of things!

Here’s wishing everyone a Happy Chinese New Year of the Ox from #hanfugirl and #hanfubaby! May your year be filled with Auspiciousness like how I’m filling the remaining of this entry with auspicious imageries!

Disclaimer: No child was harmed in the process of the shoot. No make up was applied on her either! It’s all post production 😉

Empress Dowager Cixi’s greatest love rival–Noble Consort Mei

IMPORTANT: WE HAVE MOVED!
CLICK HERE FOR OUR NEW SITE!

There were only 3 women who bore a child for Emperor Xianfeng, and out of the 3 children, 2 were male heirs. One was the son of Empress Dowager Cixi (then Royal Consort Yi), and the other, son of Noble Consort Mei (then Concubine Mei). In many online articles, it was said that Empress Dowager Cixi was mother to the emperor’s only son, but truth is, one of his favourite concubines–Noble Consort Mei, also bore him a son who was written out of history as he passed away just hours after birth. Emperor Tongzhi, who succeeded Emperor Xianfeng, posthumously gave his deceased brother a title–Lord Min.

The life of Noble Consort Mei in the palace was like the most stereotypical storyline in every Qing palace drama. Born to the Manchurian Booi Aha status, she entered the palace as a palace attendant and rose through the ranks (jumping 2 ranks in 1 year). I don’t know about where you work, but such progression in any civil service is probably quite unimaginable and likely so in the Qing harem unless you are very much favoured by the emperor. Yes, the system of the imperial consort was very much like the civil service where there were protocols on their behaviour, progressions, and monthly pay/remuneration. And the Empress is supposed to be the one who oversaw all these, but her decisions could be overwritten by the Emperor.

Trivia time: Most people thought Plain Yellow banner would be the most prestigious, considering it sounded imperial and official. However, the emperor’s banner is actually Bordered Yellow banner.

The Manchurian system of banners and hierarchy is an interesting one and I think it’s important to explain it a little since we watch so much of the Qing imperial drama. In Yanxi Palace, we were introduced to the Booi Aha status which Er Qing the supervillain was born into, and the emperor mentioned multiple times that he would ‘raise the banner’ for some of the concubines. So what are all these about?

The Manchurians are also known as “People of the banners旗人” in Chinese. Initially the Manchurians were divided into 4 banners–the plain red, blue, yellow and white banners. Subsequently, it was further divided into the 4 bordered banners, forming a total of 8 banners with the emperor heading 3 of them–Plain yellow, Plain white, and Bordered yellow (indicated in yellows above) and the other 5 were deemed to be more inferior.

Royal Consort Mei was born in to the Plain Yellow Banner status, and although her family weren’t the leaders in the clan (they could be the followers/servants in the clan, or they could be relatives with different surnames from the clan leaders), the very fact that she was born into the more prestigious banner (the 3 indicated in yellow above), meant that she was born a free person and not belonging to any household (like an item/belonging of the master). In ancient times, if you were a servant, then typically you are registered as possession of your master’s family instead of a free person.

So when they mentioned “raise the banner” of the clan, it meant to raise someone’s family status from that of belonging to the lower 5 banners to that of the 3 directly under the emperor’s charge. In her case, her family was already part of the 3 more prestigious banners.

There is some element of sensationalism when we read accounts of her being born as a palace attendant and rising through the ranks to a Noble Consort because it sounded as if she broke the glass ceiling when the actual context is something quite different. Although she was a “palace attendant”, she was not of the slave caste or anything inferior (anyway the slave caste was supposedly abolished by her time), it was just that she was born into a less prestigious family as compared to the rest of the other concubines who are direct descendants of aristocrats (kinda like Princess Diana’s lineage compared to that of Prince Charles’).  Bearing in mind that her clan was one of the prestigious 3 banners under the direct charge of the emperor, so she was perfectly eligible to be a concubine. Sorry, no glass was shattered in the process.

Possibly Noble Consort Mei got too arrogant, and offended the emperor and she was then caught abusing her attendant, and laughed and joked with her eunuch in a manner that was unbefitting of her status. As a result, the emperor downgraded her rank by 3 to that of a ‘chosen maid’ which meant that she was not even considered part of the emperor’s harem at that point. This demotion was way lower than her starting mark as palace attendant, and was definitely a huge insult and an extremely humbling experience for her.

One would’ve thought that it’s the end of her good life as we know it, but she bounced back stronger in just half a year. Before you know it, she had regained her original status and was gave birth to a boy shortly after! That would have been the emperor’s second son (the eldest one was from the Empress Dowager). In those days, if you could bear a son for the emperor, your life was set. However, her child passed away just 4 hours or so after birth.

The emperor attempted to console her by promoting her status by yet another rank, but we all know that this was the end of any ambition that she might have to becoming an empress. Emperor Xianfeng passed away 2 years later when she was just 25 years old, and the new emperor promoted her to Royal Consort out of respect and she spent her remaining 28 years in peace. Even when Empress Dowager was getting rid of her all rivals, she was benevolent to the harmless Royal Consort Mei and left her alone.

I had a discussion with a Qing history researcher as to whether it was a blessing or a curse to have lost her son. From a mother’s point of view, it’s definitely a curse because I believe most of us would readily give up our own lives for our child. But from a very pragmatic point of view, her son might not have survived the tactics of Empress Dowager, and she might die alongside with him at some point instead of a more peaceful retirement. In the worst case scenario, their fight for the throne (or their perceived threat by the Empress Dowager) might have gotten her entire clan killed even.

A painting of Royal Consort Mei was done when she was in her retirement mode:

玫贵妃春贵人行乐图轴 Scroll painting of Royal Consort Mei (Middle) and Noble Lady Chun (Left)  having a day out. I think they conveniently left out High Rank Attendant Xin (Right) in the title.

And because that is the only painting of her that we have, I have edited my photo to try to look like her:

Notice that in this painting, only the bottom lip is painted. This style of lip makeup was one of the most popular style in Qing dynasty, and you can spot them in many other official imperial portraits of the period. I have also removed her swallowtail in this photo-painting to be more period-accurate. The buttons are most likely detachable metal buttons which is something quite unique to the period. Buttons in the Qing robes are very much like the cufflinks of today, and you could vary and switch around different sets of buttons as you wish, so they were not sewn on but hooked on.

THE END

NOTE: While I was researching on Royal Consort Mei, I realised that different records recorded her title differently: 玫贵妃 vs 玟贵妃. It is likely due to recording error (kinda like typo in today’s context), and I choose to call use the word Mei because it was what was indicated in the official record of her title conferment and it is also the word used by the Palace Museum in its caption for the artwork above.

I also found another painting, painted about 20 years apart which bore an uncanny resemblance to the portrait with Royal Consort Mei. We had a long discussion amongst the hanfugirls on whether it was a mistaken identity, or was it some kind of ‘uniform’ they wore for a particular rank, or was it just the laziness of the court artist who might not have seen them in real life and just painted from some template. Because the lotus on the hair, the ring they wore, and the type of dress they were wearing seemed really too similar to be a coincidence.

Well, the discussion is open if you wish to join in! But unfortunately, nobody has an answer to that for now.

孝慎成皇后观莲图 Painting of Empress Xiaoshencheng admiring lotuses (Detail)
Empress xiaoshencheng was the Royal Consort Mei’s mother-in-law, but this painting was painted post-humously. I kinda like the orchid in the fan she’s holding.

Special thanks to Qing History Society (Singapore) for fact checking on this article and to clarify some of my queries.

5 artefacts that inspired Mulan’s designer

IMPORTANT: WE HAVE MOVED!
CLICK HERE FOR OUR NEW SITE!

There are always 2 sides to a coin. Even for Mulan. While the production team’s taste is questionnable, they didn’t squander their 3 week study trip to China entirely either. There are several easter eggs in the show where I could tell exactly which artefact they might have been inspired by, and it’s quite fun to spot them! So let’s have a look and learn a bit more about these otherwise neglected gems!

1. The Army & their Armour

Personally, when it comes to Tang dynasty costumes for a show, you have to watch the Longest Day in Chang’An (2019 Chinese Drama). That, is probably the gold standard. They had plenty of armours made for the show, just like Mulan, and I thought it’s fun to also compare the 2 shows as well as the artefacts that they are based on.

The one in “Longest Day in Chang’an” featured armours that used around 6,000 individuals pieces to make so as to be as functionally similar to the original as possible. The one in Mulan, I guess due to time constraint (even though they have a huge budget), could not be done that way, so they opted for a more decorative/flat kind of texture, look and feel. And I suppose borrowing from the Longest Day in Chang’an wasn’t an option cos they were filming around the same time (also another reason why the Chinese drama had to build its own set, which worked out pretty well for them actually).

That being said, a lot of effort has definitely gone into replicating the look of a Tang army in Mulan and you can read about the details of the armours HERE. A few visual comparisons below:

(left) The recruitment officer in Mulan; (right) An artefact of a figurine of early Tang official

Note the tassel on the helmet in Mulan vs the feathers in Longest Day in Chang’an, and the artefact. Attention to detail is important. Not everything Chinese has to have tassels.

Since I’m not an military fashion expert, I’ll say it gets an overall score of 8/10 from me.

2. Emperor’s not-so-new clothes

Since ancient dynasties in China, what the emperors wore for the various occasions have been codified to 6 different types and most of the periods thereafter followed what was dictated in the Rites of Zhou (circa 8th century BCE). In Tang dynasty, such categories further expanded to 12 different types of dressing for variousi functions and occasions.

I am kind of impressed that they got his formal wear almost right, especially the hat:

There are 12 beads each column of the crown, just as what it should have been since over 3000 years ago, except that during Tang dynasty, all beads were supposed to be white just like in the Rites of Zhou.

Almost, because the devil’s in the detail. The formal wear is supposed to be like what’s depicted in the painting on the right, but I can understand that the stereotype of Chinese emperors would be someone who looks like the Chinese Jade Emperor, and that yellow is the ultimate colour for emperor:

stereotypical look for the Jade Emperor, a mythological figure, because, nobody wears that IRL since the formal mian hat is never paired with a yellow robe.

I believe it was a genuine mistake by the production team, because Tang dynasty was the beginning of the practice where yellow (note: but only a the orange/reddish yellow not all shades of yellow) was reserved for the emperor. It’s a myth that yellow has always been reserved for the imperial family, because before that anyone could wear it and even in Tang dynasty, many could still continue to do so, in fact yellow was stated alongside with white as colours for civilians. The ceremonial dresses however, were not subject to this yellow criteria, since they followed the Rites of Zhou and during that period, Black and Red were far more superior colours.

They might have taken inspiration from this portrait of the Tang emperor except that this painting wasn’t done in Tang dynasty but much later (I would say Ming/Qing dynasty) and you can just look at the evolution of the dragon motif to tell:

This painting of a Tang emperor (Tang Taizong) is not from the Tang dynasty but painted hundreds of years later in memory of him. You can tell from the way his dresses and motifs are painted. Definitely by someone from much later period.

The hat, I suppose was based on a Ming dynasty artefact belonging to the son of the emperor, and the only surviving artefact of this type of crown:

Because the owner of this Mian crown wasn’t the emperor, the artefact only has 9 beads per strand. The emperor would have 12. But it was in Ming dynasty that they had 5 coloured beads whereas in Tang and before, it was all white beads according to the Rites of Zhou.

So it’s actually somewhat impressive that they got the number of beads in the crown right and its varying colours! I mean, many Chinese shows would’ve just have random number of beads in white or whatever colour that look nice. I’d give this a 8/10 for its attention to such an obscure but impressive detail.

3. Phoenix emblem

Left: Mulan’s family heirloom phoenix emblem;
Right: Western Han dynasty Zhuque (Red bird/fire bird; Note: NOT phoenix)

I know I know, could phoenix be a variation of the zhu que red bird? It certainly seemed so except that in ancient Chinese texts they were two markedly different species. The Phoenix is supposed to have 5 colours, while the red bird is, as its name suggests, red. The Zhu que/Red bird is one of the 4 guardians in Chinese culture, but it was usually used on the roof tiles instead of as what the movie suggested, at the two sides of the front entrance.

The round surface with a motif is the roof tile that imperial families in ancient China over 2,000 years ago would use to symbolise their power and to seek protection from the heavenly forces.

The ancient Chinese divided the world into 4 quarters of the world and assigned a guardian creature to each of them to balance and control the evil forces of the world. One of my favourite childhood Japanese anime was based on this concept–Fushigi Yuugi. And yes, the 4 gods were made up of a total of 28 constellations thus the anime had different constellations assigned to the respective guardian gods.

The most iconic motifs of the 4 guardians/gods are none other than the Western Han dynasty roof tiles:

1. Blue dragon of the East (The leader of the 4 gods)
2. Red bird of the South
3. White tiger of the West
4. Black Turtle-Snake of the North

The element that is associated with the Red Bird is fire, but overtime people confused the phoenix and the red bird, and today most people thought of them as the same creature.

Maybe one day I should do a series on the 4 guardian gods and their respective constellations.

Whether or not intentional, it reveals an effort by the Mulan team to base their design on an iconic Chinese motif and artefact, and for this, they get 9/10 from me!

4. Madame Matchmaker’s hair woes

I know, I know, the matchmaker looks like a clown in Mulan, but upon close scrutiny, it was just an unfortunate combination of many artefacts into one. In a way it is not unlike the ancient Chinese mythological beings which were made up by combining several creatures into one. Taste, is a different matter altogether.

Her hairpins really stick out like a sore thumb

There are many ways to skin a cat, and somehow the Chinese show’s way is more aesthetically pleasing to me:

The accessories could be equally inaccurate as in Mulan’s case, but it feels less weird and more balanced (ironically, since it’s not symmetrical).

This design doesn’t get a pass from me due to its poor attention to detail and poor sense of aesthetics. Villains don’t need to look like lunatics.

5. Advisor’s fancy wardrobe

The advisor’s wardrobe has some serious attempt at Tang design like the one on the robe he wore when he was possessed. It was actually a very quintessentially Tang dynasty flower medallion.

The top is a Tang dynasty rug made of wool, currently in the Textile collection of Shosoin in Nara, Japan.
The bottom is a piece of Tang dynasty fabric in the Met Museum collection.

The advisor has another top that has a pseudo Tang-inspired motif, the roundel design. Although, I have to say that it is quite poorly painted/designed, looking like a child’s scribble than the more stylised and less convoluted style which it is probably based on:

Bottom 2 designs are small roundels (about 3cm in diameter) found on Tang dynasty textiles. Those roundel designs that are around the size of what the advisor wore were a lot more intricately designed with animals.

Such roundel designs and the flower medallion designs were quite unique to the Tang dynasty textiles. Although it was a continuation from the Northern dynasty hundreds of years prior, it was very popular during the Tang dynasty thus making it very iconic of the period.

There are so many fine examples of such roundel motifs:

And the flower medallion designs from the Tang dynasty (super gorgeous I know):

Because they bothered to dig up some of the really iconic motifs of Tang, and even though it is poorly executed, it was not as awful as the matchmaker’s hair, so this is probably a 5/10.

One of the most iconic aspect of Tang dynasty is, as the designer/filmmaker mentioned, its use of colours. As you can see from the artefacts, they have such complex designs made up of very strong and contrasting colours, yet they look really balanced together.

The film, however, lacked that sense of harmony despite its attempt at having really strong colours. It’s something I can’t quite explain, perhaps it’s the synthetic colourings used, or maybe the designer really didn’t have a good understanding of the ancient Chinese aesthetics, or maybe it was just different taste from mine.

It is also a lost opportunity for the Mulan PR team to talk about the artefacts they were based on, and make it educational and meaningful instead of just a brief mention of the Tang aesthetics being colourful and nice.