Must See

When Xu Yiyang (徐艺洋) stepped onto the runway at the Sanya (三亚) International Bridal Fashion Week, she did more than just showcase dresses; she ignited a conversation about style, celebrity, and personal evolution. The young artist, known for her roles in television and variety shows, took on the role of a bridal experience officer, presenting two distinct looks that captured widespread attention. Her appearance quickly trended on social media, with fans and critics alike praising her poised demeanor and flawless appearance in unedited photos. This event marked a significant moment in her career, transitioning from a pop idol to a fashion influencer, and left many wondering about the motivations behind her bridal-themed debut. Golden Cheongsam Glamour The first outfit was a modern interpretation of the classic cheongsam, crafted in a shimmering gold hue that highlighted Xu Yiyang's fair complexion and elegant posture. Designers blended traditional elements with contemporary touches, such as a semi-high neckline and a central bow fastening, which added a playful yet refined edge. The dress featured a floor-length silhouette with a high slit, allowing for fluid movement that echoed both grace and confidence on the catwalk. This combination of old and new resonated with viewers, who noted…

When a popular period drama recently faced accusations of costume duplication, it sparked a wider conversation about originality in television. In Meiren Yu (美人余), the visual echo of character outfits did not go unnoticed by audiences. This situation mirrors a persistent pattern across many historical series, where designers frequently recycle styles. An actor might wear nearly identical attire in different projects, blurring the lines between their roles. The rapid expansion of short-form content has intensified this, with compact productions often lifting aesthetic elements directly from their lengthier counterparts. At the heart of these repetitions lies a creative stagnation, a safe retreat into familiar visuals that risks boring viewers. This reliance on similar designs points to a deeper industry habit. Rather than cultivating unique visions, some productions opt for proven, marketable looks. She might play a warrior in one story and a noble in another, yet her wardrobe feels strangely consistent. This aesthetic convergence suggests a lack of inventive risk, where financial pressures override artistic ambition. Furthermore, legal frameworks for protecting costume copyright remain underdeveloped, making it easy for one show to mimic another's sartorial choices without significant repercussion. The outcome is a visual landscape that feels repetitive, denying audiences the…

In the bustling streets of modern China, a quiet revolution blooms atop the heads of women who choose to adorn their hair with intricate floral arrangements. This is not merely a fashion statement but a profound connection to an ancient practice known as hairpin flowers, a craft that has woven its way through millennia. Imagine waking up to the sight of vibrant blossoms—crimson camellias, sunny daisies, and delicate hydrangeas—nestled in dark tresses, transforming everyday moments into a celebration of nature and resilience. For many, these flowers are more than decorations; they are emblems of inner strength and a poetic approach to life. In an era where women are increasingly asserting their identities, hairpin flowers serve as a bold declaration of self-love and cultural pride. They remind us that beauty can be both fleeting and eternal, capturing the essence of hope in each handcrafted petal. This tradition, rooted in deep history, continues to inspire those who seek to blend artistry with personal expression, making every day a canvas for creativity and empowerment. The Artisan's Touch Creating hairpin flowers is a meticulous process that demands patience and skill, passed down through generations of artisans. In regions like Quanzhou (泉州), particularly among the…

Yue Yunpeng, why don't you wear your clothes properly! In the ancient costume drama The The Lychee Road, when Yue Yunpeng's character Zheng Ping'an makes his first appearance, he is sloppily dressed and wears what seems like a "mini skirt". The CP combination with Lei Jiayin's Li Shande makes people can't help laughing. Is this "mini skirt" deliberately done for the drama effect or did such a garment really exist in history? First, let's state the conclusion. This is a common Tang-style inner garment in the round - necked robe, which can be simply called "Banbi" (半臂) according to its appearance features. Generally speaking, this kind of Banbi inner garment has two functions. In the Tang Dynasty, both civil and military skills were highly valued. This inner garment can support the shoulder contour of the outer round - necked robe, making the figure look more upright. Also, it can be conveniently worn with the chest exposed in hot summer or during sports. Since it is used as an inner garment, natural and breathable materials such as linen are usually used. "Banbi" also has another name, "Banxiu" (半袖). It is a very special short - sleeved top in ancient China. Its…

The rustle of embroidered silk now echoes from Shanghai's Tianzifang to Xi'an's ancient walls as international travelers embrace hanfu with infectious delight. What began as cultural curiosity has blossomed into a full-blown transnational phenomenon, with foreign influencers and tourists donning Ming dynasty robes and Tang-style ruqun to create viral content that transcends language barriers. This sartorial bridge between eras and continents reveals how traditional Chinese garments are becoming 21st-century cultural connectors. Destination Dressing Historic sites transform into immersive stages where hanfu unlocks deeper travel experiences. In Suzhou's Humble Administrator's Garden, Slavic creator Ana Petrovna floats across zigzag bridges in blush-pink chiffon, her movements harmonizing with centuries-old pavilions. The visual poetry of her ensemble against classical architecture drew thousands of Instagram saves. Urban studios cater to global clients with specialized services. Shanghai's Hanyi Huashang studio stocks plus-size options and offers bilingual styling consultations. "We adjust makeup for deeper eye sockets," explains owner Li Mei, noting 40% of June bookings came from overseas visitors. Iconic landmarks inspire theatrical transformations . At Xi'an's Drum Tower, British photographer Tom Higgins commissioned a dragon-embroidered emperor's robe. "The weight of the gold-threaded cloak made me stand differently—more regal," he laughs. His "Three Imperial Poses" reel trended on TikTok…

One of the joys of wearing hanfu is discovering how effortlessly it can be adapted to different lifestyles, beliefs, and personal preferences. As a hijabi, one of my biggest considerations when choosing clothing is modesty. Thankfully, many hanfu styles already cater to this ideal with their long, flowing silhouettes, layered structures, and elegant designs. In fact, I’ve found hanfu to be one of the easiest traditional outfits to wear while staying true to both my modesty and aesthetic preferences. Although some hanfu styles are more fitted around the waist or involve shorter sleeves or lower necklines, there are many that work beautifully for hijabis without needing any extra modifications. Personally, I’m especially drawn to Ming dynasty style hanfu. These often feature a mamianqun skirt paired with either a shorter shirt (duijin shan) or a longer robe-style shirt (aoqun or dachang), both of which are generously cut and non-revealing. The fabrics drape naturally, the overall silhouette is loose, and the layering makes it feel effortlessly modest. The added bonus? Mamianqun prints are just stunning. The way the pleats open and close as you walk, revealing flashes of the pattern, creates a sense of movement and beauty that makes me feel elegant…

In a recent preview for the period drama Biao Mei Wan Fu (表妹万福), set against a Ming Dynasty backdrop, actress Song Zuer's (宋祖儿) character is seen outdoors wearing what appears to be a structured, clasp-fastened undergarment. This has sparked a fiery online debate: Was it historically accurate for a woman to reveal her inner wear during this era, or is this merely a creative costume design choice? The scene challenges modern perceptions of Ming fashion, often imagined as uniformly modest and restrictive. To understand this sartorial choice, we must delve into the specific garment in question and its place in the private versus public life of a Ming gentlewoman. Zhuyao Unveiled The garment causing the stir is not a modern invention but a historical piece known as a Zhuyao (主腰). Popular during the Yuan and Ming periods, it was sometimes poetically called a "pleasure-binding jacket." Its defining feature was a front opening secured by ties or clasps, a distinct departure from the more common wraparound styles. While the overarching term for inner wear in this period is often debated, the Zhuyao stands out for its tailored construction. Surviving artifacts show it could be worn with or without shoulder straps, which could…

The rustle of silk on city streets signals more than a fashion trend. Across China and beyond, young people wearing flowing robes with wide sleeves and crossed collars aren't just dressing up—they're reviving a sartorial language spoken for millennia. Hanfu, the traditional attire of the Han Chinese, carries within its seams profound cultural narratives, aesthetic philosophies, and social codes that transcend mere costume. This resurgence isn't about recreating museum exhibits; it’s a dynamic reclamation of identity. Each fold in the fabric whispers stories of dynasties past, while the vibrant modern interpretations speak boldly to the present. Far from being static relics, these garments embody an evolving dialogue between heritage and innovation. Core Principles Woven in Hanfu distinguishes itself through fundamental design elements that carry deep symbolic weight. The cross-collar forming a "Y" shape visually represents the balance of yin and yang, reflecting ancient cosmological beliefs. The right-over-left lapel served historically as a cultural identifier for Han communities, contrasting with left-over-right styles associated with some neighboring groups. This distinction held such significance that Confucius remarked on its importance in defining civilized society. Equally characteristic are the absence of buttons, replaced by fabric sashes tying the garment, and the signature wide sleeves.…

Hanfu is more than fabric; it is China's history draped on the human form. These garments, evolving across millennia, offer a silent narrative of shifting aesthetics, social values, and profound cultural identity. From the foundational rituals of the Qin-Han era to the cosmopolitan flair of the Tang and the introspective elegance of the Song, each dynasty imprinted its spirit on sleeves, collars, and flowing skirts. This journey reveals how Hanfu served as both a mirror and a maker of its time, its threads weaving a continuous story of civilization. Qin-Han Foundations The unification under Qin and Han established Hanfu's core grammar. Garments became instruments of order and ritual. The defining principle was "upper garment, lower skirt", combined with the distinct right-over-left collar closure. This structure conveyed dignity and a connection to cosmic principles. Colors held deep meaning: profound black for heaven, vibrant vermillion for earth. Predominant fabrics were sturdy hemp and coveted silk, often adorned with symbolic patterns like swirling clouds and thunder motifs, reflecting reverence for nature's power. The Quju Shenyi (曲裾深衣) stood paramount. It's wrapped, overlapping panels circled the body multiple times, flaring dramatically at the hem. This complex construction signified formality and status, worn by both men…

Last Friday 3/17 I was invited to a local Chinese school to give a small talk on hanfu! The aim was to share hanfu culture with more people here and to present an example to the kids of what doors can be opened to you by maintaining language skills. A little background—I myself attended this once-a-week school from kindergarten up until 6th grade, upon which I pulled out of the school to invite the Chinese teacher that taught me in 6th grade to tutor me at home privately. She was a great tutor and a key part of inspiring my interest in ancient Chinese culture through poetry, history, and more, keeping me engaged while analyzing Tang Dynasty shi and Song Dynasty ci. As I got busy, I stopped the tutoring when I was in 10th grade—and I was introduced to the concept of hanfu not even a few months later! I’ve kept up communication with this teacher for a while (whose name I won’t disclose for privacy reasons) and visited her in Taiwan throughout the years. This year she came back to teach at the local chinese school and invited me to give a talk on hanfu there. For the…

I made my first real Hanfu based on patterns from this website. First outing at the beach, with dragons and all. Here is an article with much details on my sewing journey.

Wearing armor, riding a horse, holding a traditional weapon, fighting on the battlefield. Such a scene may have appeared in the dreams of many people when they were young. But there is a person who turned the traditional Chinese armor in the dream into reality, he is the first person to restore the ancient armor of the Tang and Song dynasties, Wen Chenhua (温陈华). He has highly restoration the armor of the Song dynasty, which has been lost in China for 700 years, after 6 years. He founded the Lian Kai Tang (炼铠堂), and with his own strength, he promoted the obscure armor restoration craft, and let Chinese armor on the world-class combat stage.   #01 The first person in traditional Chinese armor restoration There are only about 1000 armor restorers in China, 90% of them are Wen Chenhua's students, and for 40 years, he has been restoring Jiazhou (甲胄, traditional Chinese armor) to the extreme. On Wen Chenhua's social platforms profile, there is only a simple sentence "Top Chinese Jiazhou maker" as an introduction. However, he has shared a lot of armor design drawings and finished armor photos, all revealing his deep love for Jiazhou. Traditional armor restoration and…

In the heart of ancient China, dance was not merely entertainment but a vibrant expression of life and culture, particularly during the Tang Dynasty. This era, known for its economic prosperity and cultural exchanges, saw dance flourish in ways that might surprise modern observers. Today, however, the lively dance floors of old seem a distant memory, leading many to wonder why such a rich tradition has faded. This article delves into the dynamic world of Tang dances, exploring their forms and the historical shifts that quieted their rhythms, offering a fresh perspective on a cultural evolution that resonates beyond time. Vibrant Jianwu Jianwu (健舞), or vigorous dance, epitomized the energy and strength of Tang performers, captivating audiences with its lively movements. This style included subtypes like Zhezhi (柘枝), which originated from Central Asia and featured solo female dancers moving to drumbeats in a blend of power and grace. Historical records, such as those in Yuefu Zalu (乐府杂录), highlight how these dances reflected the era's openness to foreign influences, with performers like Gongsun Daniang (公孙大娘) celebrated for their skill. Her performances, described in poetry, showcased a mastery that left a lasting impression on spectators, illustrating how Jianwu became a symbol of…

You have seen it in countless historical Chinese dramas, from The Story of Minglan (知否) to Nirvana in Fire (琅琊榜). A character, perhaps Shen Li (沈璃) from The Legend of Shen Li (与凤行), lounges gracefully, not on a chair, but on a piece of furniture that looks like a curved armrest. It seems incredibly comfortable, a perfect prop for scenes of scholarly contemplation or leisurely repose. But what is this object? It is not a chair at all. This is the Yinji (隐几), an ancient support that was the epitome of comfort and intellectual attitude for centuries of Chinese literati. More than just furniture, it was a portable sanctuary for relaxation and a symbol of a mindful approach to life. Not a Chair The Yinji, also known as a leaning stool or armrest, was a quintessential item in ancient Chinese interiors, particularly for use on a Ta (榻), a low platform bed. Its primary function was to provide support for the back, the arms, or even the side of the body. Imagine a portable sofa arm that could be placed wherever one desired a comfortable lean. It was designed for ease of movement, often light enough to be carried outdoors…

What if you could bypass marriage and become a career woman in the Ming Dynasty? In an era dominated by the saying "a woman without talent is virtuous," the path for women was overwhelmingly prescribed: domestic confinement, learning needlework, and accepting an arranged marriage. Yet, a remarkable alternative existed behind the towering vermilion walls of the Forbidden City. The imperial palace offered a select group of women a chance to become female officials, known as Nüguan (女官). These were not mere servants but educated administrators who managed vast swathes of palace operations, from finances and rituals to education and security. This was a rare space for female agency within a rigidly patriarchal system. The Selection Becoming a Nüguan was an arduous process with intense competition. Candidates, typically aged between 13 and 20, had to meet stringent criteria. Their family background was scrutinized; they had to come from "good families"—often the daughters of low-ranking officials or commoners, but not from professions like medicine or commerce. This ensured their loyalty and prevented powerful clans from gaining internal influence. Physical appearance required dignity, not dazzling beauty, as these women would represent the imperial household. The evaluation of moral character was particularly severe. Local…