I’VE GOT NEWS. Fashion in Saudi Arabia is at its peak.
What? You don’t believe me?
Look around!
Haven’t you seen those black, extra large, extra long cloaks moving in groups, never alone, like a grim reaper team in plain daylight? On which planet are you living? Because where I’m coming from and wherever I’ve been going too, they multiply fast and follow me everywhere.
By the way, they are called abayas and they are part of the women’s liberation movement. Really, they are. Because what’s more liberating than hiding all the curves you didn’t want in the first place? Finally a look that’s achievable, not aspirational. Finally, the world has ceased to view you as an object of desire. You are now a shadow—in your thirties.
And haven’t you seen those white, extra large, extra long robes moving alone, sometimes in groups, like angels in disguise?
They are known as thobes and they are always accompanied by shemaghs, red and white, long, checkered scarves that are held in place by iqals, black, round cords.
Did you ever consider that an iqal can straighten up, turn into hard rope and potentially strangle you in no time? I didn’t. Seriously, I thought it was just a circle, for decoration. But now I know! It’s a circle of power!
But what do you care? You only think of fashion!
Now, tell me, fashionista, black and white, don’t they match? Of course they do! Just check, mate!
And this matching goes on everywhere in Saudi Arabia. Wherever you look, wherever you turn. Everyone is wearing either black or white.
A country like an old, monochrome movie, a fashion podium where everyone does their bit and that bit always comes in one size: extra large.
A place of fashion fanatics. I mean fanatics in a good way, fan, fan-antics, fanatics! Like you and me. A brief moment of genuine connection there.
Never mind, I can sense you’re still not convinced Saudi Arabia is where fashion thrives.
To tell you the truth, I’m not convinced either.
I mean I was. And then I saw—black abayas and pink sneakers.
Not snickers. Snickers would have been fine.
Sneakers! Pink! And black abayas!
What’s that? A Barbie breakthrough?
Really now? More like when fashion forsakes fashion.
Com’on now lady, you wear those abayas with so much pride and elegance, so dignified and beautiful and then come the sneakers… ruining it all.
Seriously, what were you thinking?
Were you anticipating a need to sprint? It’s Arab spring dear, not Arab sprint.
And, where were you going to run to? Hopefully, nowhere. Anywhere else and the only thing you’ll run into will be trouble.
What? How many types of different footwear can you choose from to match the same black robe?
You can’t wear day in, day out, black high heels that, by the way, would match. True. I get it. Sometimes you want to wear pink sneakers. And so you do. But it looks awful!
How should I put it?
Habibi, sister, they just don’t match. And shoes and dresses must match.
But no, I get it, I get it.
Dark clothes bring dark ages. And, God forbid, black brings Black Jack ideas. To avoid any disaster, you pair your black abaya with something more optimistic, more fun. Well, maybe not more fun than Black Jack, but certainly more optimistic. Something pink. After all, the mighty Benjamin Moore calls pink “Paradise,” “Bliss,” “Harmony,” and poor you, you trust him and think that’s exactly what it will bring to you.
I can see the ads:
“Pink snickers: the a priori promise of paradise.” Without the “a priori” bit, that would be too philosophical.
Or,
“Pink snickers: pinker than your pinky.”
But I’m here to tell you: No! No! No!
Do not give your trust easily. It is misplaced. The only thing pink sneakers and black abayas will bring you is shame.
I know, entry to paradise requires sacrifice. But remember, in this case you sacrifice bon gout fashion. Not to be confused with just “fashion.” So, ask yourself, “Is paradise worth it?”
Say that again? You’re trying to match your footwear with what’s under the abaya? You mean with your jogging pants? Really? You’re joking! Try putting those to good use and you’ll easily trip and fall. No, wearing sneakers won’t help. And no, pink definitely won’t make a difference.
Are you listening?
Something tells me you just don’t care. You bought them at a Sneak Me festival organized by all these sneaky sneakers aficionados!
They were on sale, 50% off. You didn’t want to devalue them, you wanted to buy them at full price, so you bought two pairs, and now, and forever after, you’ll devalue yourself.
Black abayas and pink sneakers! Pff!
Wait a minute! Who am I to give you advice on fashion? I’m from Australia and over there, we do it all the time. Not black abayas and pink sneakers. No, we’re not that formal. God forbid we’re formal at all. What I mean is that we forget about fashion all the time.
In the office, if we’re fairly fit, we wear flip flops and extra large clothes. Beach kind of attire.
If we’re less fit, then we wear flip flops and extra tight clothes. Gym kind of attire. Testing the tensile strength of Lycra.
Come Covid, we worked from home, wearing the same good old flip flops—the one of way too many constants in our lives—paired with oversized pajamas. And, while at it, we forgot about being fit all together.
We even cooked in our pajamas. We just threw an apron over. Then, if we could both work and cook in our PJs, we figured, we could also eat dressed as such, which is exactly what we did. Finally, we slept in our pajamas, not before reminiscing about a time when that was what they were for in the first place.
So, trust me, I admire you.
Behind that veil, you do look fabulous. You dye your hair. You smoke your eyes. You paint your lips. You drown your sorrows with Chanel. I wouldn’t be surprised if, safe at home, you watch Jane Fonda three times a day and do exactly what she does. And better. And more. Then, you hop in the shower and tell yourself that true power is hidden, well hidden.
I admire your desire to look fabulous when no one watches. Well, some might watch but, hey, they don’t see anything. The robe gives nothing away. And when it does, you’re in a hurry to spruce up your wardrobe and buy the next size that will provide extra peace of mind and space for your body for years to come.
Speaking of sizes, just a word of caution here. Remember, you start with large, might move on to extra large, but you certainly shouldn’t end up with extra extra large. It is not in husbands’ nature to accept you just the way you are.
But I guess as an Arabic woman, you don’t need to worry about divorce much. You always have the choice to remain THE ONE—amongst others. That’s comforting. I mean you’re still good for something.
But I digress.
Let’s talk about one aspect of Saudi fashion that troubles pretty much everyone. Including me.
Let’s imagine you’re at the mall, surrounded by black robes, how do you go about recognizing your friend?
You see, the interesting thing about abayas is that it makes everyone look familiar. And you need to pay attention, pay really good attention.
Same as travel is all about observing the nuances, fashion is all about having a keen eye. And with both of my keen eyes, looking closely, but not too closely, fixated on the robe, but not too fixated, I’ve noticed something of the utmost importance all over the world, but probably nowhere more than here: a label! Illi.ae!
To not be confused with Chador, which by the way, j’adore. Not that I can tell the difference. But who cares? You pick a label and you stick (to) it.
If your keen eyes can’t spot the label, then it must be because you got dazzled by the (fake) jewels-encrusted palm trees on the sleeve. Who wouldn’t?
Or, perhaps the black lace trim or the embroidered hearts caught your attention.
You see, I told you, real fashion is all about details, and no one knows that better than the Saudis!
So, once again, I tell you, fashion is at its peak in Saudi Arabia!
Go, check it out.
And once you’re there, don’t forget:
1. Black is for special occasions, like when you are going out for a walk.
2. A long robe is ideal for chilly weather, I mean a breeze that sometimes, about once a year, blows, more like soft whispers, late at night when you, by the way, should never be out.
3. A black long robe is ideal for that cool outdoor event to which, don’t worry, you won’t be invited.
Come, if you’d like. Go, if they’d please.
And don’t forget, wherever you are, give fashion a go!
Now, go! Go! Onwards, to Oman.
Excerpt from Carol’s latest book, “OMSARUZ, Humorous tales from Oman, Saudi Arabia and Uzbekistan”
Did you enjoy it? Then, you can buy the book on amazon.com. Please also consider leaving a review.
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