Recently a friend of mine returned home from a six week trip to Europe. Upon her return, we had a beautiful conversation discussing all the experiences she had while she was away. She had been describing a moment during her trip and after our phone call, she sent me a photo of herself walking in the place we had discussed.
What struck me about the photo was how stylish she looked. Her sense of style didn't come as a surprise to me as she is one of the most stylish women I know, but what was surprising was that she looked so at home, so herself.
When travelling, I sometimes feel like I want to be a different version of myself. Going to Paris? Let's be chic. Going to Greece? How about wearing some crisp white and blue?
It's almost as if the impending trip is a holiday away from myself. A moment in time where I get to be someone else. And that someone needs a different wardrobe.
All the world's a stage
The word 'costume' can be traced back to the Latin word 'consuetudo' which means 'custom' or 'habit'. The word custom is defined as 'a traditional and widely accepted way of behaving or doing something that is specific to a particular society, place or time'.
With this in mind, we could describe a costume as a way of dressing that is specific to a particular society, place or time.
Costume is, in essence, performative. It is playing. Stepping into a time, place or character that is not your own.
Style on the other hand, is unique to an individual. It is an expression of the self, a reflection of inner values, tastes and preferences. It is the outward reflection of you.
To wear a costume is to play a part other than that of you.
Stealing identity
The fashion industry is deeply rooted in colonial power structures. White, western, patriarchal structures.
Historically, western culture has viewed non-western dress as costume. Simultaneously romanticising it as 'exotic' while stripping it of its practical and cultural meaning.
During the 17th and 18th centuries, this romanticisation lead to a perception of luxury and sensuality that was coveted by western consumers. In the 19th century, textiles like silk and cashmere, were imported from the East and used in western dress.
India had long been a global leader in the textile trade, producing some of the finest silk, cotton and linen in the world. Skilled artisans used unique dyeing and weaving techniques which were passed down through the generations.
Distinct textile traditions developed in each region of India, enhancing both the cultural importance and variety of textiles available.
Indian textiles surged in popularity in Britain during the early 19th century, particularly the Kashmir shawl which often featured the 'paisley' pattern. Known as boteh or buta, this pattern originated in ancient Persia (Iran) and has a rich history in India. We know it as 'paisley' in the West as the British co-opted the design and began mass producing the patterned shawls in the town of Paisley in Scotland.
The demand for Indian textiles posed a significant threat to the growing British textile industry whose use of the power loom and other machinery was producing cheaper, poorer quality fabrics significantly faster.
In order to protect British textile manufacturing industry, Britain imposed exorbitant tariffs on Indian textiles including outright bans on the importation of certain Indian fabrics like cotton.
These factors saw the global market flooded with cheap British textiles, including in India which was under British rule. The cheaper fabrics undercut and eventually replaced the rich Indian textile trade.
British manufacturers stole and co-opted Indian textile designs due to their popularity and beauty with no regard for their cultural significance.
'Preservation of one's own culture does not require contempt or disrespect for other cultures' - Cesar Chavez
Culture is not a costume
My grandparents migrated to Australia after fleeing war torn Poland in 1949. In Australia, with their three daughters, the middle of which is my mother, they lived a traditional Polish lifestyle.
Being a migrant during this time was not easy. Beyond the sheer trauma of living through war, leaving the only home you have ever known and starting over in a place where nothing is familiar, they had to deal with the pervasive racism.
Children of migrant families were 'encouraged' to change their names when they started school. Their actual names deemed too difficult or 'foreign' for people to grapple with.
My mother's name is Zuzanna, Zuzia for short. As a child, the school changed her name to Susan, the name she still goes by today.
The safest things for migrant kids to do during this time, the easiest way to fit in, was to assimilate. This meant, in part, rejecting their culture of origin.
As a teenager, I was often confused as to why my Mother didn't teach my sister and I Polish when we were little. It frustrated me. It was only with time that I began to understand the complexity of cultural identity in Australia during this time.
Without the language, I looked for ways to connect to my Polish heritage. I wanted to feel a part of it. It was so intimately woven into my life, yet it felt distant, a world full of signs and signals I didn't understand.
One of the ways I could connect was through clothing. My Grandmother was an incredible seamstress. She could draft her own patterns, sew, knit, crotchet and embroider. She would mend, darn and launder clothes with such incredible skill and care.
When my sister and I first travelled to Poland in 2001, I was intoxicated by the ethnographic museums. I spent hours looking through the rooms full of traditional costumes from all over the country. The vibrant floral motifs, the tightly fitted bodices over tops with fine lacework, the beautiful embroidery and the fringed shawls.
I wanted to wear these pieces. I wanted to connect to that part of myself through the clothing. But was that allowed? Would it be appropriate? Afterall, I didn't really understand the cultural significance of any of it.
Style or souvenir?
When travelling, it is so easy to get wrapped up in the beauty and romance of a place. It has happened to me many times. It is the wondrous joy and excitement of travel.
I have seen places so unbearably beautiful it's hard to believe they exist. As you immerse yourself in the local culture, the architecture, the landscape, the food, the fashion, it's easy to get a bit lost in the wonder of it all. It's easy to lose yourself.
When my partner and I visited Mexico in 2018, we took a very small tour to the the outer villages of Oaxaca where we visited artisans working in the traditional way, including weaving and embroidery.
Seeing the process and the people behind the work gave the textiles so much more meaning. Naturally there is a desire to support the local industries too. However the huipil that I bought while there made no sense in my wardrobe when I returned home. Neither did the ornate costume jewellery I bought in Istanbul or the ruffled dress I bought in Spain.
There is something incredibly special about the heady euphoria you feel when experiencing a new country and culture. I can understand a designer's urge to take the inspiration and use it in their own work. Or, in our wardrobes.
But stripped of it's history and cultural meaning and planted in a different country with no context, things can feel very wrong. It is especially troubling in the context of colonial power structures.
Indigenous Australian artists and designers have long had their work stolen and replicated by non indigenous businesses for the purpose of profit. It is a blatant disregard for the artists, culture, stories, history and communities that the work represents. And yet another example of the dominant culture stealing cultural work for economic gain.
Clothing can be a way of assimilating into a culture or signalling respect when travelling, but it's important to understand when you have lost sight of your authentic self and have drifted off into appropriation. Not just of another culture but of yourself.
'Mutual respect is the foundation of genuine harmony' - Dalai Lama
The story of you
Travelling is one of the most incredible educations you can have. It opens your mind to the extraordinary richness of the world. The stories and histories of places, cultures and people are something you keep with you forever.
The second time I travelled to Poland was in 2007. This time I went with my Mum. Despite her trepidation about her language skills, describing her vocabulary as having deteriorated to the level of a five year old, when we arrived, she instantly started chatting to our Taxi driver with ease.
On that trip we met our extended family which was incredibly special. The meeting resulted in many happy tears. As the family sat around the dinner table speaking excitedly in Polish, I listened smiling. I couldn't speak the language but the sound of it was so familiar. Their faces, the food and the surroundings were too.
Cultural identity is a nuanced thing, it is made up of many parts. Tiny fragments sewn into our memories and experiences. The pain and loss of lands and love ones left behind and the people, places and experiences that form our new way of being, our new identity. Patched and woven together.
I bought a traditional Polish scarf on that trip. Bright green wool emblazoned with a striking floral motif and fringing. I wore it while I was there. I still have it. Every time I see it, it reminds me of my Grandmother. It connects me somehow.
Clothes are a beautiful way to understand yourself. To play and experiment with what it means to be you. They are powerful symbols of identity, values and culture. They are embedded with stories and meaning.
It is important to be mindful that the pieces you choose to wear are the ones you want to tell your story. Wearing someone else's culture without the appropriate context or permission is problematic.
Your style is what makes you, you. There is nothing wrong with buying clothes, including traditional ones, while you are travelling. Just remember to ask yourself if the piece feels authentically right for you and your real life wardrobe or if you have floated away into the delightful haze of travel euphoria and are about to buy something you will never wear at home.
The places you travel to, the people you encounter, the experiences you have, it's all a part of the story of you. Beautiful, wonderful, patchwork you. And, that's a story worth wearing.
'Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world, you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life and travel leaves marks on you' - Anthony Bourdain