Ethnic-inspired clothes in the spotlight in Jakarta

Ethnic-inspired clothes in the spotlight in Jakarta

By Dini S. Djalal

JAKARTA (JP): This year sees the commemoration of the golden
anniversary of Indonesia's independence from Dutch colonialism.
In the 1990s, many other countries across Asia, Africa and Latin
America, are also celebrating their first 50 years as sovereign
states.

In an effort to distance themselves from their colonial past,
"developing" countries may choose the path of modernization (i.e.
Singapore) or traditionalism (Iran), or synthesize both paths.
High-tech industrialization bestows international prestige, but
the continuation of age-old traditions implies a strong culture
distinct from and not reliant on "the West." The tools of daily
life -- clothes, architecture, food and the ideas behind them --
come to symbolize the strength of one's culture.

In anthropological texts and tourist guidebooks, Indonesia's
reputation as a land of ethnic diversity is unsurpassed.
Colorful costumes dot the archipelago, worn by weavers and
woodcarvers and batik-artists. Fashion shows held by local
designers often celebrate traditional dress and fabrics.

In the nation's cities, however, a Chanel bag is more
prestigious than a handwoven ikat scarf. At Jakarta's shopping
malls, trendy women wear Scottish tartan kilts while their batik
kebayas gather dust in the closet.

Sentimental

On May 20, the Jakarta International Festival's fashion show
at Ancol Travelodge showcased the works of 22 Indonesian fashion
designers, as well as the traditional costumes of India, Jordan,
Thailand and Vietnam. The theme of the show was "Arts, fashion,
and culture". At the Jakarta Hilton International on May 22, a
Turkish Gala Evening was held by the Embassy of Turkey, also
celebrating traditional arts. A fashion show was given by Zuhal
Yorgancioglu, known internationally as "Madame Z" or the "Turkish
Dior", and her daughter Muberra Yorgancioglu.

At both shows, emphasis was on fabrics rather than silhouette.
The Jakarta International Festival show opened with traditional
Javanese wedding gowns, designed by Susie Hediyanto in ornate
gold prada. Both bride and groom moved with snail-like steps,
either reveling in the glory of refinement, or alternately,
constrained by the weight of decorum.

The epic entrance only left high expectations. Ramli's cream
kebayas followed, worn with plastic sandals decorated with
traditional Javanese gunungan motif and a matching parasol. The
image was sweet but sentimental -- remnants of the good life in
Old Batavia?

Dimas Mahendra entertained more modern sensibilities. His
crinkled shirts and scarves provided a sculptural contrast to his
abstractly painted shirts and brown batik sarongs. The mingling
of traditional prints with individual designs was a sign of
cultural sensitivity and artistry. Robby Tumewu's neon-colored
ensembles, meanwhile, seemed to mock the Dayak culture which he
borrowed from. From the models' ears hung flesh-colored cloth
holding together multi-colored plastic hoops -- a take-off from
the Dayak tradition of wearing multiple earrings so the earlobes
elongate past the chin.

Samuel Wattimena, one of the show's organizers and designers,
disclosed that the clothes were produced especially for the show,
so they are not available in stores. Preparation time varies.
Some take a week to produce the clothes, others take months.
This may explain the great discrepancy between the collections.

Harry Dharsono's beaded and embroidered gowns worn with
sequined turbans, for example, are exercises in technicolor
calisthenics, suitable only for big personalities. Yet his ornate
craftsmanship deserve praise. Dandy Burhan's aquamarine stiff-
velvet tops, however, were ill-matched with the gold-embroidered
Lampung tapis, the fulfillment of an ethnic quotient.

Other designers used ethnic fabrics in wondrous ways. Ghea
Sukarya predictably sent out an array of glorious patola-patterns
in wispy earth-toned silks. The petite singlet/corset was
everywhere in her collection and in Prajudi's, where they lay
snugly in gold under cavalier-style tie-dyed jackets. Poppy
Dharsono had her singlets match her black ikat. As a nod to
tradition, these ensembles were paired with sarongs or kains.
Ankle-length silhouettes were also popular, as in Samuel
Wattimena's palazzo pants teamed with black-and-white ikat
jackets and Carmanita's tie-dyed beige pajamas.

The best collections, however, were by those designers
endeavoring to be free of "tradition". Itang Yunaz's sheer
embroidered mini-dresses in white cottons were like acoustic pop
tunes amidst blaring orchestras. Biyan's structured and bias-cut
designs hint at no particular ethnic inspiration, but the cream
linens and fringed scarves had an organic feel which transpire
only from the tropics.

Biyan's collection was also one of the most accessible in
terms of the mass market. Many of us do not indulge in wild
patterns or shapes in our wardrobes, even for designer clothes.
When asked about the discrepancy between what is shown at fashion
shows and what is worn on the streets, Samuel Wattimena answers:
"Not everyone eats at McDonald's! Some people like fine dining."
What is important is that different markets are addressed,
Wattimena adds.

"Sure we have that universal market, who shop at Benetton and
Esprit and other casual-wear chains. But there must be designers
out there producing traditional clothes. That doesn't mean that
traditional clothes are high fashion, but we do have to cater to
these other markets," he said.

Living Museum

Toha Masyhur, an anthropologist at Ethnodata, adds that some
designers not only utilize traditional handicrafts for commercial
purposes, but also fund communities to perpetuate their crafts.

"Prajudi, for example, helped villages to continue ikat
production," he said. Masyhur also contends that Indonesia may be
adopting a less decorative culture, but that does not imply the
destruction of traditional culture.

"A Javanese may wear a suit to work, but that doesn't mean his
beliefs are not Javanese," he said. "As long as a person feels
that traditional dress, such as the kebaya is needed for certain
occasions, then culture is not abandoned," Masyhur elaborated.

Masyhur does admit, however, the importance of cultural dialog
between artists, designers and the public.

"It would be unfortunate if traditional dress becomes just a
show, so that, like traditional dances and performances, it
becomes part of a living museum," he said.

Postcard images

Turkey remains an assortment of postcard images to me, so I
cannot comment on the resilience of their traditional culture.
Judging by the richness of Madame Z's collection, however, it
seems that the Arabian nights are still unfolding in Anatolia.

Turkey shares with Indonesia a legacy of cultural adaptation.
Turkey has absorbed different cultural influences since the
Hittite civilization of 6000 B.C., just as Indonesia retains
aspects of its Hindu-Buddhist past from several centuries ago.
Weaving and embroidery are among the age-old crafts which evolved
in Anatolia.

Twentieth-century industrialization and particularly the mass
production of garments for export in Turkey have threatened the
crafts heritage. European influence had effected the arts since
the 17th century, resulting in an ornate style called Turkish
Rococo. Madame Z pursues a revival of Turkey's past individual
glory, once remarking that Turkey refuses to merely be, "a
workshop for the West, and nothing can be accomplished through
flagrant imitation."

Madame Z's clothes are anything but imitative. Her collection
traverses not only through the centuries but through strata of
society. There are frilly milkmaid dresses in undyed cheesecloth
and billowy embroidered blouses atop balloon pants for the
carefree peasant look. Belly-dancing ensembles in dark velvets or
satins were paraded next to dramatic robes and caftans drowning
in gold embroidery.

In fact, the glitter and glamour became exhausting. In
addition, some of the traditional silhouettes are not for the
body-conscious. The draped trousers, utilizing perhaps four
meters of fabric, would make waifs look like pears. Madame Z's
classical evening wear was much kinder to the female figure.

Many beautiful gowns were on show, most with maroon or black
velvet bodices atop black chiffon. The show closed with towering
silk black columns in various shapes and designs. The embroidery
was stunning.

The most memorable garments of the show, however, were not the
brightly-colored pantsuits or embroidered gowns, but rather the
simple pieces by Madame Z's daughter Muberra. She designed a
series of gray, silver and copper ensembles which trace their
origins to belly-dancing. The bare midriff accentuated the
slender frame of minute waistcoats, while wide-legged pants or
flowing skirts bestowed elegance and fluidity. Traditional
embroidery was absent in these designs, but a Middle-Eastern
flavor remained evident. Most importantly, because they may be
worn confidently by women of all ages and socio-economic
background, these clothes truly reflect the times and culture of
their audience.