15th century hanfu
As spring arrived in April across Beijing, it wasn’t just the multitude of blooming flowers that caught the eye. In a phenomenon that is rapidly growing in popularity over the last two years, spring now also signals nostalgia for hanfu, an umbrella term for a wide range of traditional or traditionally inspired Chinese clothing. Last month, as crowds flocked to the city’s major tourist hubs, such as Yuyuantan, Daguanyuan, and the Summer Palace, scattered amid the spring blossoms were women in extravagant hanfu designs. But it isn’t just another fad. Some companies now even allow employees to wear such elaborate outfits to work, and hanfu start-ups are popping up all across the country. Their vibrant, elaborate ensembles are now often another subject for photographers to capture, along with the season’s symbolic flowers. In particular, Cao County in the eastern Shandong province has not only garnered widespread attention for its burgeoning traditional attire industry; it is also home to several affiliated industries such as accessories, photography, design, as well as hair and make-up. According to one report, from 2015-2020, China’s annual hanfu sales grew from 190 million yuan ($28 million) to 6.36 billion yuan. The estimate for 2021 exceeded 10 billion. More knowledgeable buyers pay close attention to the finer details of their outfits for a more refined aesthetic. The most ardent enthusiasts open their own stores, sign up for classes to learn hair and make-up styles, and participate in fashion shows. They buy ornamental hairpins, get their make-up done, book photographers, and take part in events and festivals. Though interest in traditional attire began in China in 2003, the industry saw little growth until a few years ago, when it witnessed a sudden surge in popularity. Despite the growth, however, experts believe the industry is yet to mature, and that consumer pitfalls still abound. Inexperienced enthusiasts buy outfits purely based on the photos sellers use online, only to receive poor quality and ill-fitting imitations. A Gen Z hanfu enthusiast, Nannan grew up watching period dramas and decided to buy the traditional outfits shortly after joining the workforce. Her first attempt did not go well. Nannan says she didn’t mind since she didn’t consider it everyday wear. She bought a Ming dynasty design but the fabric was slightly wrinkled. It only mattered that it looked good. But while buying hanfu, appearance isn’t everything. For example, if the undergarment of a summer outfit modeled on the Song Dynasty (960-1279) is made of extremely thick, unbreathable fabric, it’ll be soaked through by the end of the day, causing its colors to fade or change over time. If they are to be worn as daily clothing, they must be functional garments. Quality issues don’t end there. Given hanfu’s status as a symbol of traditional culture and fashion, more and more enthusiasts have begun to pay attention to an outfit’s authenticity, particularly the form and fit. A 2020 report from domestic e-commerce giant Taobao showed that the Ming, Song, and Tang dynasties were the most popular subcategories amidst the hanfu range on offer. Acquiring quality goods, however, is easier said than done. Yun Qing from Hangzhou believes that traditional designs must be corroborated through comparison with actual historical artifacts; the authenticity of anything else cannot be trusted. But companies are willing to make them because they’re attractive, convenient to wear, and popular with consumers,” says Yun. “Truth be told, archaeological research does not support many of the hanfu choices popular among Gen Z today – such as Tang-style hezi (strapless undergarments) and skirts; so-called ‘Wei and Jin period’ style garments; or Song-style pants with elasticated waistbands. She underscores that a buyer must first ensure that the garment’s design is true to the time – then consider the fit. This means carefully examining the sewing pattern produced by the merchant. “I won’t put money down if the merchant won’t show me a two-dimensional pattern – otherwise, the fit is bound to be flawed,” she says. An ordinary outfit costs around 300-500 yuan. It is common for small-scale online shops to sell such designs 45 days in advance and still fail to deliver the finished garment to the buyer on time. Apart from quality issues, another aspect that has hindered the market is the long production cycle for hanfu designs. Sometimes, an order may even take as long as one or two years to complete. For example, when orders of leading online brand Lanruoting’s viral design cijian chunse (Here be Spring) were severely delayed, people joked online that they may not get their deliveries until autumn. Ensembles from high-end brands like Minghuatang cost close to 10,000 yuan, while Nanjing Yunjing’s individual garments can sell for several hundred thousand yuan. And, the moment a particular design gains traction online, it strains the production capacity even more. As long-term enthusiast Yueyue explains, “Minghuatang’s wedding dresses are much sought after. They, too, are bogged down by slow production cycles – it often takes several months to two years. If you don’t want to rent clothes for such a huge life event, then your only choice is to wait a year or two for the dress to be completed. To hedge against the long waiting period, workshops mostly only accept group purchases and wait months until orders reach a certain threshold before launching production. In such a system, however, deals break all the time. Sellers present the use of fabrics like silk as justification for their high prices but, though they are comfortable to wear, they’re also very fragile, and come with stringent washing and ironing instructions. Another issue that frustrates newbies who finally acquire hanfu is the laborious process of maintaining the outfit. “I spent more time ensuring it didn’t get wrinkled than I did wearing it,” commented one buyer on social media. Photography accounts for a significant chunk of the hanfu market. Big brands, such as Poetic Oriental Beauty, also specialize in historical costume photography. To get the most out of the experience, buyers can’t afford to be stingy about accessories, hair, and make-up. She is the proud owner of a four-storey dresser full of traditional accessories. “Good accessories are like the cherry on a sundae – few people will buy hanfu without also investing in accessories,” says Nannan. Using these rare items, she can transform her appearance and achieve different styles. The most expensive ornament in her collection is a 200-yuan hairpin like something out of the novel “Dream of the Red Chamber,” which pairs particularly well with Ming Dynasty hanfu. Most items can be reproduced by part-time zanniang, or hairpin artisans – for around 100 yuan each. Accessory vendors, however, are few and far between, with the vast majority comprising small family workshops. Meanwhile, hair accessories that are made using complex techniques that are recognized as forms of intangible cultural heritage – such as ronghua (“velvet flowers”) or chanhua (“wrapped flowers”) – require more time and are therefore more expensive. A major brand of hanfu head ornaments, Wanbaode, sells wedding crowns for 200,000 yuan, and hairpins for over 1,000 yuan. Rather than buying finished products, Yueyue often prefers DIY kits. “Just a single delicate flower is very difficult to make. For each type of accessory, she makes two at a time. “Whether I was scammed or not is a matter of personal opinion. What I care about is the work; I wouldn’t sign up for any class just because the instructor is a famous stylist,” she says. To better understand the hair and make-up styles of different dynasties, Yueyue spent thousands of yuan on a special course in the coastal Jiangsu province, to learn two to three styles from each dynasty. There is no consensus on what constitutes “good” hair and make-up. Yun Qing learned the art from online tutorials. She even created a separate social media account to share photos of her hanfu and document her hair and make-up creations. “If you wear hanfu for a while, you’re bound to pick up some skills,” she says. These photos are usually taken free-of-charge by professional photographers in a quid-pro-quo arrangement, since they get to practice their photography skills and build their portfolio. Some spend impressive sums hiring photographers from professional studios. Established in 2003, Poetic Oriental Beauty has built their brand on hanfu photography. And though this offset of the industry is growing at a dizzying pace, it still suffers from service quality and business model issues. Their IPO, through which they hoped to secure a top spot in domestic photography studios, has been pending since 2020. But, for enthusiasts who prefer a more subtle aesthetic, the work commercial studios produce is considered tacky and derivative. Wang Han has worked in this industry for many years and previously operated his own hanfu brand. Poetic Oriental Beauty has drawn criticism in recent years, which largely revolve around poor experiences during shooting, bad photoshopping, and false advertising. Asked about the state of the industry today, he says bluntly, “Turning a profit is no easy feat. Analyzing market trends over the years, the development of the hanfu industry can be approximated into four stages. From 2008-2017, a period of sluggish development followed, during which the industry slowly gained traction, and supply chains gradually formed. New brands and workshops proliferated online. As the trend continued to sweep the nation, downstream industries and investors with deep pockets started buying in. The next three years saw whirlwind growth. Though a wave of new businesses emerged, just as many shut their doors. Price wars ensued, and bigger brands with investment backing solidified positions, such as Shisanyu, Chonghui Hantang, and Shi’er Guangnian. In 2020, however, things started to change. However, shoes, bags, accessories, hair and make-up are still largely manufactured in small workshops; only a few major brands have established large-scale factories. Most brands are so small that even if they are considered high-end, the only employees they can afford are the owner as the cutter, and the owner’s wife as the model. For many, the prospects are slim at best. Founder of the famous brand Huajianxi offered a telling glimpse in a post online, which they have since deleted. “In 2021, I took on two new jobs – both of which have proved to be far more profitable than operating a hanfu store,” they wrote. Another brand, Lanruoting, closed down last year. Though Lanruoting’s operations did not continue into the second half of 2021, it far surpassed its rivals in terms of sales for the whole year, coming in second in the affordable market niche. Despite the buzz, it ceased production in July last year. According to Wang, the choices for hanfu businesses which aren’t backed by investor capital are limited. The other option is to branch out and offer a wider range of casual daywear incorporating hanfu-inspired elements. Either they build factories to bring down prices and boost production, or they opt for a high-end made-to-measure strategy, offering exclusive experiences. This would tie in well with the rise of guochao, or “China chic.” For the moment, however, the low-end hanfu market is all but saturated. A version of this article originally appeared in Kaiboluo Caijing. Yun Qing, Yueyue and Nannan are pseudonyms. It has been translated and edited for brevity and clarity, and published with permission.
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Fanlingpao (Chinese: 翻领袍; pinyin: fānlǐngpáo; lit. Tang dynasty when they feature double overturned lapels, is a type of paofu with lapels. Fanlingpao were first introduced in China during the Northern Wei dynasty and became popular in Northern Qi. The custom of wearing fanlingpao were then inherited and further developed in the Sui and Tang dynasties. It was categorized as Hufu instead of Hanfu due to its association with clothing of the foreigners who came from the Silk road. The fanlingpao could be transformed into a round collar robe, called yuanlingpao, in the Tang dynasty through the use of buttons. Hufu-style clothing during this period; it was considered hufu while yuanlingpao was categorized as a form Hanfu. In appearance, the kuapao looks similar to the kaftan with lapels and slim sleeves used by the Persian. 93 The kuapao could also be enriched with pattern trims or border decorations at the sleeves cuffs and along the lapels. The term kuapao was sometimes used to refer to double over-turned fanlingpao with tight sleeves, which overlaps at the front and closes on the right side of the body near the armpit in the Tang dynasty. This form of lapel robe originated from Central Asia and was typically worn by men. Lapels robes originated from Western Asia and were popular in Central Asian in the Sogdian region, in Qiuci, and Gaochang. This form of overlapping closure to the right is a traditional Han Chinese characteristic, which was sometimes adopted by foreigners and/or non-Han Chinese, who had borrowed Chinese elements. Lapels robes were spread eastward through the Sogdians. Lapel robes were first introduced in the north region of China during the Northern Wei dynasty. The earliest depictions of Xianbei and Han Chinese people wearing lapel robes in China also date back to the Northern Wei dynasty. The Sogdians, who lived in China, were most influential between the second half of the 6th century and the beginning of the 7th century. Under the influence and the demands of the Chinese population, as well as Chinese traditions, most Sogdian attire in China had to be closed to the right. The Sogdians and their descendants (mostly from the merchant class) who lived in China during this period also wore a form of knee-length, yuanlingpao-like kaftan that retained their own ethnic characteristics but also showed some influences from East Asia (i.e., Chinese and early Turks). Their robes were versatile, it could often be transformed into a yuanlingpao-like robe by buttoning up the neck to form the round collar or occasionally have their lower button undone allowing their collars to be form lapels, becoming lapel robes. It was however not rare for Chinese Sogdians to wear their robes with only the left lapel, which was a distinguishing feature as the only left lapel robe was rarely found (almost unknown) in Sogdia. The Sogdians in China and Sogdia had both lapels down following the Iranian tradition or the tradition of the Saka people living in the Khotan Oasis. By the Northern Qi dynasty, lapel robes had become popular in the Han Chinese regions and were worn by both men and women. The wearing custom lapel robes were then inherited and further developed in the Sui and Tang dynasties. 27 It was very popular in the Tang dynasty during the Kaiyuan and Tianbao era during the reign of Emperor Xuanzong. Wuzetian period (684 -704 AD). 27 The fanlingpao of the preceding dynasties were further developed in the Tang dynasty; such that it could be transformed into the yuanlingpao by buttoning up three buttons on the collar. Fanlingpao worn during the Tang dynasty was categorized as Hufu. It overlaps and closed to the right side, which follows the traditional Han Chinese system. The kuapao was also worn by women, who would wear it to cross-dress as men. It could be used as a jacket and was thrown over the shoulders like a cloak, which made women looked more masculine. While adopting certain elements from foreign dress (e.g. Sogdian and Turk lapel robes), the Chinese however maintain their traditional way of closing their fanglingpao on the right side. It was worn with stripped trousers and leather waist-belt with leather strip attached to the belt. Huihu were the predecessors of the Uyghur. 98 The Huihuzhuang was produced for the women of Han ethnic and had been inspired by the robes of Huihu women. It was long enough to reach the ground, voluminous, and the sleeves were slim-fitting. 98 Based on the reconstruction from the Dunhuang frescoes, the Huihuzhuang had an overlapping front which could be closed with ties on the right or left side. 98-99 Warm, colours were preferred, and the colour red was typically used; it was also generally made of thick brocade. 98 The Huihuzhuang was very popular among the Tang dynasty’s aristocratic women and the women of the imperial court. The upper part of the robe was loose and had decorative patterns (or borders) on the collar and sleeves cuffs. Sancai figures wearing fanlingpao (kuapao-style), overlaps on the right and closes to the right, Tang dynasty. 98 The rise of Uyghur-style robe occurred after the rebellion of An Lushan, when Uyghur culture grew along with their military power. Tang dynasty woman wearing kuapao, a hufu-style fashion. The Turks typically had lapel robes which closed on the left side. This includes the Sogdians and the Turks, who typically closed their robes on the left side. Author Chen Buyun describes the kuapao as having a “front opening”; however, the images provided shows a double over-turned lapel robe which overlaps at the front and closes on the right side of the body near the armpit. According to the Yi Zhou Shu, Sogdian women used the Chinese clothing. Sogdian men wore Sogdian clothing but not their women. The manner these men wore their Sogdian robes were not exactly the same as the way they dress themselves in their motherland, Sogdia. They would wear their kaftans button-up more often and only button off for certain activities or occupation (such as dancers, hunters, etc). Styling their robes in double lapels were not popular among the Turks of the Great Turkic Qaghanate (552-630) but were worn by the Sogdians in Sogdia and in China. 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