Hanfu Archives

If you’ve ever wandered into the comments section of a Chinese historical drama, there’s a good chance you’ve seen someone ranting about whether the actors are wearing their robes “correctly.” And by “correctly,” they often mean one of two things: first, is the hair tied up or left loose? And second, is the robe crossing left-over-right (zuo ren, 左衽) or right-over-left (you ren, 右衽)? This second one—zuo ren—is where things get weirdly intense. What Does “Zuo Ren” Actually Mean? So what’s the big deal with zuo ren? Technically, it refers to the way a garment crosses over the body. If the left side overlaps the right, that’s zuo ren. Right over left? That’s "you ren", which is traditionally considered “correct” in Han Chinese dress. Confucius (孔子) even name-dropped zuo ren in the Analects (论语) , saying that if not for the statesman Guan Zhong (管仲) , “we’d all be wearing our hair down and robes crossed the wrong way”—basically, we’d be living like barbarians. Which sounds dramatic. But here’s the thing: even in Confucius’s time, not everyone outside the Central Plains actually wore zuo ren. For example, the people of Chu (楚国) —a powerful southern state considered “semi-barbaric” at the…

In the recent TV series "The Purple Hairpin," actor Ye Zuxin's portrayal of a crown prince has sparked discussions among viewers, particularly regarding the authenticity of his costume. A key point of contention is why a crown prince would wear a robe adorned with five - clawed dragons. To clarify, the gunlongpao (衮龙袍), a round - collared robe featuring circular dragon motifs, was a common attire for Ming Dynasty emperors, crown princes, and imperial relatives. This garment, paired with the yishanguan (翼善冠) hat, was worn during various court activities, lectures, and ceremonies. Contrary to popular belief, the five - clawed dragon design was not exclusive to the emperor but was shared among the imperial family, with variations in the number of dragon motifs. The misconception that only the emperor could wear five - clawed dragons stems from Qing Dynasty dress codes, not Ming traditions. Over time, the gunlongpao evolved, incorporating more elaborate designs for formal occasions, such as the addition of twelve symbolic patterns during the reign of Emperor Yingzong. These patterns, representing elements like the sun, moon, and stars, were reserved for grand ceremonies, making the robes more ornate than everyday wear. The series, while attempting to recreate Ming…

The Large-sleeved shirt, known as "Da Xiu Shan" in Chinese, was a prominent aristocratic attire during the mid to late Tang Dynasty. This garment is often associated with the famous painting "Court Ladies Wearing Flowered Headdresses" by Zhou Fang, which vividly depicts noblewomen adorned in ankle-length skirts paired with sheer, large-sleeved gauze shirts that delicately cover their shoulders and arms. The artist's realistic portrayal not only captures the transparency of Tang fabrics but also the softness of the women's skin. This style persisted until the late Ming Dynasty, often paired with a ceremonial cape, and was alternatively called "Da Xiu" or "Da Shan." During the High Tang period, the influence of Hu (nomadic) clothing waned, and women's fashion gradually embraced wider sleeves. By the mid to late Tang era, sleeves often exceeded four feet in width. The attire typically included a wide-sleeved cross-collared shirt, long skirt, and a draped shawl, reserved for significant occasions like court appearances, ceremonies, and weddings. Adorned with golden hairpins and floral decorations, it was also referred to as "Floral Hairpin Large-Sleeved Shirt." Zhou Fang's painting, now housed in the Liaoning Provincial Museum, illustrates noblewomen leisurely strolling through gardens, picking flowers, and playing with butterflies. Their…

In period dramas set in the Ming Dynasty, you'll often notice large white collars, sometimes even layered over patterned ones. Was this just a peculiar fashion choice? The answer lies in practicality. Back then, people wanted to avoid frequent laundry, especially since sweat easily soiled collars in summer. The solution? A detachable white collar called "Huling" (护领). This removable piece could be washed separately, maintaining cleanliness without worrying about color bleeding. Its neutral white hue also made it versatile, matching any outfit color effortlessly. For those who wanted to skip washing altogether, disposable paper collars existed as early as the Wei - Jin period. The "Book of Wei" records an official using paper collars for frugality. By the Ming Dynasty, widespread papermaking made these affordable for commoners, while nobles used specialty papers—essentially creating the first "daily disposable" collars. Huling came in varying widths, though none exceeded the main collar's size. While main collars could be colorful, Huling remained plain white. Some debate exists about colored or embroidered versions, but these likely prioritized aesthetics over functionality. Typically used on cross - collar or front - opening outer garments, they weren't mandatory—underlayers still required regular washing. Compared to modern garments where cleaning…

In the Korean drama 'Won Kyung,' Queen Won Kyung is seen wearing a full set of Zhaiyi (翟衣), along with a Yanju crown (燕居冠) adorned with Bobin (博鬓), which is typically reserved for empresses or crown princesses. Observant viewers might find this attire familiar. In recent years, Zhaiyi has frequently appeared in Chinese historical dramas set in the Song and Ming dynasties, largely because well - preserved portraits of empresses from these periods provide ample reference material. The 'Zhai' in Zhaiyi refers to the Zhai pattern (翟纹), which features the Chinese pheasant (红腹锦鸡), a bird native to China with vividly colored feathers described as 'red with five hues.' The pattern consists of twelve pairs of pheasants arranged in rows, interspersed with small floral motifs called 'Xiaolunhua' (小轮花) in the Ming dynasty. The headdress also follows a strict hierarchy: the phoenix crown (凤冠) with Bobin is the highest rank, paired with Zhaiyi, while the Yanju crown (with Bobin) is worn with a yellow Dasha (大衫) and Xiapei (霞帔). Noblewomen's Zhai crowns are paired with red Dasha and matching Xiapei. Why does Zhaiyi appear in Korean dramas? The 'Goryeo History' records that Empress Xiaoci of the Ming dynasty once bestowed Zhaiyi upon…

Have you ever noticed those intricate ornaments dangling from the chests of characters in historical Chinese dramas? Particularly prevalent in Tang-style productions, these accessories are often mistakenly called "ya jin" (压襟). To set the record straight, they're actually known as "zhui ling" (坠领) or "zhui xiong" (坠胸) depending on their length. These exquisite pieces resemble jade pendants but feature delicate attachments. Their purposes were twofold: first, as auspicious symbols adorned with meaningful patterns; second, as ceremonial reminders - the gentle tinkling sound they produced when moving too quickly served as an elegant prompt for graceful, measured steps. Primarily worn by Ming Dynasty women, zhui ling belonged to the "jin bu" (禁步) category of accessories. Historical records like "Ke Zuo Zhui Yu" describe them as "gold, pearl, and jade crafted into various shapes, with mountain - cloud or floral motifs above, connected by long chains to hanging ornaments." When worn at the chest, they were called zhui ling; when attached to the waist, they became "qi shi" (七事). Ming portraits clearly depict zhui ling hanging below standing collars, evolving from earlier versions that suspended multiple small objects. These gold and jade ornaments, similar in decorative function to necklaces, complemented the metallic…

In the past, historical dramas often featured costumes with large necklines, resembling an ancient version of 'deep V-necks.' But were such off-shoulder outfits truly worn in history? And why are they less common in modern productions? There were indeed similar styles, at most revealing the neck. Historical artifacts like the murals from Xu Xianxiu's tomb and figurines from the Wei-Jin period might give the impression of off-shoulder outfits. However, these were typically layered with undergarments beneath the outer robe. For instance, during the Northern and Southern Dynasties, the 'Da Xiu Ru' (大袖襦) was popular. This style, often seen in figurines, featured wide sleeves, though only sleeve fragments have been unearthed so far. Based on these artifacts and the characteristics of 'Ru,' scholars have reconstructed how the Da Xiu Ru might have looked, with variations in neckline size. Notably, figurines wearing such large-neckline outfits invariably have a circular or horizontal line around the neck, representing the collar of an undergarment or 'Liang Dang' (裲裆). By the Southern Dynasties, waistlines of skirts rose to the chest, while some upper garments retained the Da Xiu Ru style. The necklines during this period resembled modern cinematic effects, barely revealing the collarbone. However, achieving the…

The Mamianqun, or horse-face skirt, has surged from historical relic to modern wardrobe staple, bridging centuries of Chinese craftsmanship with contemporary fashion. Yet as demand grows, so does the market’s mix of authentic artistry and mass-produced imitations. This guide illuminates how to discern quality craftsmanship, from fabric authenticity to structural integrity, ensuring your purchase honors this garment’s rich legacy. Material Mastery: Decoding Silk and Synthetics At the heart of every genuine horse-face skirt lies its fabric. Traditional Mamianqun relied on natural fibers—Ming artisans favored sangzhi (mulberry silk) for its luminous drape, while Qing workshops prized kesi tapestry silk for intricate embroidery. To test authenticity, rub the fabric gently: true silk generates subtle static, unlike synthetic mimics. Burn a loose thread—real silk curls into ash with a feather-like scent, while polyester melts into hard beads. Modern blends (e.g., 70% silk + 30% cotton) offer a middle ground, balancing historical reverence with daily durability. Beware of vendors advertising “100% silk” at suspiciously low prices (under ¥500). Many substitute synthetic blends, identifiable by their plasticky sheen and poor breathability. Hangzhou-based Silk Reverie uses plant-dyed organic silk, reviving Ming dye techniques with nettle greens and pomegranate rinds—a choice that marries tradition with eco-consciousness. The Four-Panel Litmus Test A true Mamianqun’s…

Once confined to historical reenactments and museum displays, the horse-face skirt has galloped into global streetwear. Today’s Mamianqun renaissance blends reverence for tradition with bold reinvention, transforming this Ming-era icon into a symbol of cultural fluidity. From Tokyo’s Harajuku district to New York Fashion Week, the skirt’s four-panel silhouette is rewriting the rules of cross-cultural style. The Mamianqun’s journey to modernity began with subtle adaptations. Designers first softened its structure for daily wear: Lighter Fabrics: Replacing heavy brocades with linen blends for summer-friendly versions. Adjustable Waistbands: Incorporating hidden elastic or drawstrings to accommodate diverse body types. Modular Design: Detachable outer panels allow wearers to switch between minimalist and ornate looks. Shanghai-based label Ming 2.0 sparked a trend with their “Commuter Mamianqun,” featuring water-repellent silk and pockets discreetly hidden in pleats. Its viral TikTok campaign (#MamianqunInMotion) showcased cyclists weaving through Beijing’s hutongs, skirts fluttering like ink paintings come to life. The horse-face skirt’s architectural lines have inspired unexpected crossovers: Punk Rebellion: Tokyo designer Yuri Takahashi pairs black leather Mamianqun with metallic chain belts, slashing outer panels to reveal neon underskirts. Bohemian Rhapsody: Los Angeles brand East Meets Dress layers lace-trimmed horse-face skirts over denim, accessorized with Navajo turquoise jewelry. Techwear Integration: Seoul’s Hanbok Futurism collective embeds LED…

Every stitch on a horse-face skirt whispers secrets. For centuries, Mamianqun artisans encoded cultural values, social status, and cosmic beliefs into embroidered motifs, transforming fabric into a visual lexicon. These symbols—ranging from imperial dragons to humble butterflies—reveal how clothing became a canvas for China’s collective imagination. Imperial Dragons and Cosmic Order The dragon motif, reserved for royalty and high-ranking officials, evolved dramatically between dynasties. Ming-era Mamianqun featured five-clawed dragons (long) encircling skirt panels, their bodies coiled in perfect Fibonacci spirals to represent celestial harmony. A 1589 imperial consort’s skirt in the Forbidden City archives shows dragons chasing pearls amid cloud bands, symbolizing the emperor’s mandate from heaven. Qing artisans reimagined this motif under Manchu rule. Horse-face skirts for nobility incorporated mang dragons—four-clawed hybrids blending dragon and serpent features—to subtly assert Manchu identity. The 1783 “Dragon-Tide” skirt commissioned by Empress Dowager Chongqing pairs mang dragons with crashing waves, a nod to Qing naval ambitions. Floral Codes – From Peonies to Lotus Flowers served as social shorthand. Ming commoners favored peonies embroidered in indigo thread, their layered petals symbolizing wealth accumulation. Nobility preferred lotus motifs in silver-gilt thread, each flower’s eight petals mirroring the Bagua trigrams. A surviving Qing-era horse-face skirt from Suzhou tells a marital story through flora: pomegranates…

To create a traditional horse-face skirt is to converse with centuries of artisans. This process, honed during the Ming Dynasty and refined in the Qing era, transforms raw fabric into a cultural statement. Far from a simple garment, each skirt embodies calculated geometry, symbolic motifs, and generational wisdom—a wearable archive of Chinese craftsmanship. Material Selection Traditional skirts begin with fabric choices steeped in regional logic. Ming artisans preferred luo silk, a lightweight yet durable weave that allowed pleats to hold their shape without stiffness—ideal for Jiangnan’s humid climate. Qing tailors often opted for kesi tapestry silk for outer panels, its slit-tapestry technique enabling photorealistic embroidery. Modern recreations face ethical dilemmas: while purists source wild mulberry silk from historic Zhejiang farms, eco-conscious brands like Vermillion Phoenix now use organic hemp dyed with tea leaves to mimic antique hues. Pattern Drafting: Geometry in Service of Grace The four-panel template follows strict proportional rules. A typical Ming skirt for a woman of 165cm height requires: Two outer panels: 50cm wide x 105cm long Two inner panels: 30cm wide x 105cm long Waistband: 8cm wide x 110cm (allowing overlap) Historic pattern books like the Yuanyang Pu (1627) reveal secret adjustments: a 3° outward flare on outer panels to enhance the “horse face”…

The horse-face skirt’s journey through China’s dynastic eras reveals not just changing aesthetics but seismic cultural shifts. Between the Ming and Qing dynasties, this iconic garment transformed from a study in Confucian restraint to a manifesto of imperial grandeur, mirroring the philosophical and political currents that reshaped the nation. Ming Dynasty: Elegance Through Restraint The Ming era (1368–1644) elevated simplicity to an art form. Horse-face skirts from this period favored clean lines and subtle symbolism, reflecting the dynasty’s revival of Han Chinese traditions after Mongol rule. Dominated by solid hues like indigo, russet, and ivory, these skirts derived beauty from precision tailoring rather than overt decoration. The most elaborate Ming examples featured narrow lan (襕)—decorative bands at knee level—embroidered with understated geometric patterns or small floral motifs. A mid-16th century skirt from a Nanjing tomb exemplifies this ethos: its unbleached hemp fabric bears a single band of silver-thread cloud designs, a nod to scholarly ideals of humility and harmony with nature. Qing Dynasty: Opulence as Political Language With the Manchu conquest in 1644, the horse-face skirt became a battleground for cultural negotiation. Qing rulers preserved the Han garment’s structure but infused it with nomadic sensibilities. Skirts exploded with color, featuring entire landscapes…

The horse-face skirt (mamianqun) is more than a garment—it’s a feat of engineering that has captivated scholars and designers for centuries. Its enduring appeal lies in a harmonious blend of form and function, anchored by two defining elements: the ingenious four-panel system and an evolving language of pleats. This article explores how these structural innovations shaped the skirt’s identity across dynasties, transforming practicality into artistry. The Four-Panel System At the heart of the horse-face skirt lies its signature four-panel design (si qunmen), a revolutionary concept perfected during the Ming Dynasty. The structure consists of two wider outer panels positioned at the front and back, complemented by narrower inner panels along the sides. When fastened, the outer layers elegantly overlap the inner ones, revealing only two decorative “horse face” sections inspired by the defensive bastions of ancient city walls. This modular system served both aesthetic and practical purposes. The overlapping panels ensured modesty during movement—a critical consideration in Confucian-influenced societies—while allowing wearers to adjust the skirt’s volume for different occasions. Historical records from Jiangnan workshops reveal that affluent Ming households often commissioned interchangeable outer panels, enabling a single skirt to transition seamlessly from daily chores to ceremonial events through strategic fabric substitutions. The Evolution of…

The horse-face skirt (mamianqun), with its distinctive overlapping panels and intricate pleats, stands as a timeless symbol of Chinese fashion ingenuity. For nearly a millennium, this garment evolved alongside dynastic shifts, social norms, and artistic innovations. Today, it’s experiencing a global renaissance, embraced by Hanfu enthusiasts and haute couture designers alike. In this article, we unravel its remarkable journey from the Song Dynasty’s utilitarian xuanqun to the Qing Dynasty’s lavish pleated masterpieces. 1. Song Dynasty Origins: The Birth of the Xuanqun (10th–13th Century) The horse-face skirt’s story begins in the Song Dynasty (960–1279), an era marked by economic prosperity and technological advancements in textile production. Practical Design for Active Lifestyles The early prototype, called xuanqun (旋裙, “rotating skirt”), featured a two-panel split design that allowed freedom of movement. Unlike later elaborate versions, it prioritized functionality: Worn by working-class women for tasks like horseback riding and farming. Lightweight fabrics like silk gauze ensured breathability. Minimal pleating focused on ease of movement rather than decoration. Archaeological Evidence A pivotal discovery came from Huang Sheng’s Tomb (Fuzhou, 1243 CE), where a well-preserved xuanqun was unearthed: Made of sheer silk with simple knife pleats. Waistband secured with fabric ties, lacking the overlapping panels of later designs. 2. Ming Dynasty Standardization (14th–17th Century) The Ming Dynasty (1368–1644) transformed the xuanqun into…

Why didn't the high-waisted hanfu skirts (齐胸裙) worn by people in the Tang Dynasty fall down? This kind of skirt didn't have elastic bands or other similar measures. Did it rely on large breasts to stay up? Could it really stay in place without falling? The Principle of Skirt Fixation As we all know, in the Sui and Tang Dynasties of China's clothing history, the waistline of skirts became popular to move up. The current popular way of wearing it is called "high-waisted". As the name suggests, since it is worn on the chest and the high-waisted skirts we often see don't have shoulder straps, the force can only go downward. Then the chest must bear the necessary pressure. Let's think in a more straightforward way. We know that a skirt won't fall when tied around the waist because the waist is like a mortise and tenon structure. As long as it is tied tightly enough to prevent the waistline from slipping, you rarely see a wrapped skirt falling off unless it isn't tied properly. Similarly, for high-waisted skirts, as long as the tying part is tightened, you can jump around without the skirt falling. Fabric and Design Considerations Of…

Why Maids Often Wear Short-Sleeved Tops in TV Dramas Why do we often see maids wearing short-sleeved tops in TV dramas, while young ladies rarely do? Let's first talk about these so - called "short - sleeved" tops. Maids wear them mainly for the convenience of work. However, this style is not restricted to maids; it's just a type of clothing item. In ancient China, it had two names: "Banxiu" (半袖) and "Banbi" (半臂). It originally evolved from the short ru (a kind of traditional Chinese upper - body garment). Usually, it reached the waist, and the sleeve length was up to the elbow or even shorter. It was not worn alone, and the most common way to wear it today is to put it over a long - sleeved garment. Actually, men could also wear it. In the Tang Dynasty, it was often used as an inner layer, like wearing a Banbi inside a round - collar robe. The Origin and Popularity of Banbi This style emerged during the Han and Jin dynasties. The figurines of a lute - playing person and a mirror - holding person in Sichuan Han tombs were all wearing Banbi over long - sleeved…

Horse-face skirts, also known as "Mamian Skirts," are a timeless and iconic part of traditional Chinese clothing. Originating from the Song Dynasty and popularized during the Ming Dynasty, these skirts have evolved from simple functional garments to sophisticated fashion statements that blend cultural heritage with modern style. Whether you're a seasoned Hanfu enthusiast or just starting your journey into the world of traditional Chinese attire, this guide will help you navigate the intricacies of choosing the perfect horse-face skirt. Understanding the Structure and Design A horse-face skirt consists of two main pieces that overlap at the front, creating four skirt doors (two on each side). The outer skirt doors are often decorated, while the inner ones may have minimal or no embellishments. The sides of the skirt are pleated, and the waistband is typically made of white fabric, symbolizing longevity and marital bliss. This design not only adds aesthetic appeal but also provides practicality, allowing for ease of movement. Key Features to Consider Skirt Length Shoe-On Style: Ideal length is leg length + 7 cm, ensuring a balanced look without compromising mobility. Long Style: Opt for leg length + 9-10 cm for a more flowing silhouette that complements various occasions.…

So the Mamianqun, or 馬面裙, or horse-faced skirt, has been blowing up lately especially because of the Dior controversy—here's an in-depth dive into the history, construction, and features of the famous horse-face skirt.   A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE MAMIANQUN The mamianqun or horse-faced skirt is a skirt that first originated somewhere close to the Song dynasty worn by high-class courtesans (who were like celebrities and fashion icons tbh) in the form of colorful pleated silk. It’s named this way because of its resemblance to the mamian fortress, which has stairs on either side (like the pleats) and a door in the front and back (like the skirt doors). The ‘doors’ sides of the fortress were known as the *horse faces* or mamian/馬面 because these were the faces of the fortress where the horses would pass through. It became extremely popular in the following Ming dynasty and stayed popular through the Qing dynasty through Manchurian rule—it’s been around for a long, long time! Mamianqun are more convenient for movement and offer a regal, classy aesthetic as well as a very recognizable and unique silhouette. Even Princess Diana wore one once! BASIC CONSTRUCTION OF A MAMIANQUN The Skirt Doors From the…

Have you ever struggled with tying your hanfu skirts, or gotten used to the old ways of tying them? Look no further for a collection of tutorials on how to tie hanfu skirts in various styles!