Quju (曲裾) is a kind of Shenyi (深衣). Shenyi, that is, the top and the dress are connected together, use different colors of fabric as the edge. It is characterized by the deep hidden body, it looks graceful and elegant. Shenyi can specifically be subdivided into “Straight Ju Dress” and “Wavy Ju Dress”. This article introduces the way of wearing Quju. Step1: Get ready for Quyi. Put on the right sleeve first. Turn the inside of Quyi around behind you. Step2: And tie the laces behind you and under your right axilla. Step3: Put on the left sleeve. Step4: Tidy  collar. Step5: Wrap Quju backward. Step6: Turn the sharp corners of the outer skirt behind you. Step7: Fix the end of the apex at the left hip. Step8: Fold the collar part of the outer jacket neatly. Step9: Belt tie. Step10: Find the midpoint of the belt, tie the belt in some places below the waist, the midpoint of the belt is aligned with the middle of the waist. Step11: Wrap the belt around your back and overlap the ends of the belt. Step12: Tie a bow in the middle of the waist. Step13: Tidy up the overlap of the…

Hanfu in Tang Dynasty was introduced to you before. Today, it brings you the style of Hanfu in Song Dynasty. Before introducing the Han clothes of the Song Dynasty, let's first understand the Song Dynasty. The Song Dynasty (960 - 1279) was divided into two stages, the Northern and Southern Song Dynasties. It experienced eighteen emperors and enjoyed the country for 319 years. The greatest feature of hanfu in the Song Dynasty is simple and elegant. Compared with the elegant appearance and bold colors of the Hanfu of the Tang Dynasty, the Hanfu of the Song Dynasty is simple in shape, simple in tone, and the whole temperament seems more natural and elegant. Song Dynasty civilian men's clothing, mainly to the "Ao (袄)" and "Ru (襦)". In ancient times, the poorer people wore "Duanhe (短褐; short and thick clothes)", which were designed to facilitate work. In addition, men in the Song Dynasty also liked to wear a shirt (衫). Unlike the clothes we imagined, this kind of clothes was very self-cultivating, not the kind of generous design we imagined. Compared with men's clothing, women's clothing is more abundant, in the Song Dynasty, women generally wore Ao(袄), Ru(襦), Shan(衫), Beizi(褙子), Banbi(半臂), dress…

Some time ago, I watched the hot Chinese drama Chang' a Twenty-four Hours (长安十二时辰). I was attracted by the hanfu of the Tang Dynasty in the play. So I did some research on the clothes and fittings of the Tang Dynasty. Let's see who is the most fashionable in Chang'an. Ruqun Talking about the trend of wearing and matching in the Tang Dynasty, it's natural that we can't do without ruqun. Ruqun is one of the most common and distinctive dresses in the Tang Dynasty. The main features of this dress are short clothes on the upper body and long skirts on the lower body. Some of them wear silk shoulders around their arms. Others wear half-arm outside the gown and then wear silk. "Ru (襦)" is for internal wear, sleeve length, upper and lower shorter, just to the waist. Long skirts were the clothes of women in the Tang Dynasty, most of which were made of silk. Skirt waist is high, can hide the chest, outside shoulder put on a yarn shirt, can make upper body skin half-covered, there is a kind of vague aesthetic feeling. Banbi (半臂) is a short-sleeved shirt, sleeve length to the elbow, knotted in…

Today, I will introduce you to a photographer. Her name is Dang xiaoshi (当小时). She is a Sichuan girl. She spends most of her time in Beijing. Like many people, Dang xiaoshi has been shooting some "commercial works" in order to live. However, due to a strong preference for "Chinese Style", there are occasional works of ancient style in private. At first, Dang xiaoshi just liked the costume style, but all the changes started with an invitation. A friend of hers got married and invited her to Nepal to take wedding photos. At that time, Dang xiaoshi put forward the idea of shooting with the theme of "Hanfu" to her friends. Originally, she just wanted to take a meaningful wedding photo for my friends, but when the photo came out, it got a lot of praise. Looking at the endless praise of Chinese clothes, she found that the charm of the original culture is so great. So she left beautiful pictures around the world with her Chinese clothes. Let's see what beautiful places she's been to. Hanfu in the United States When Hanfu, music and American enthusiasm are combined, there is a different spark. Hanfu in Nepal Hanfu in Japan…

Kyoto is an ancient capital of Japan. It preserves a large number of historic buildings. Many Japanese and tourists will feel Japanese culture in kimonos. However, in this ancient city, some local people often see a Chinese girl in Chinese costume walking down the street. Local Japanese all raised their thumbs: so beautiful, just like a fairy! The girl's name is Zhi Luo. She was born in 1993. She is from Beijing, China. Because her husband (Chinese) has been a photographer in Japan for many years, she came to Kyoto to work more than half a year ago. Why does Zhiluo like Hanfu? This is closely related to family education, she has often participated in activities about Chinese culture since childhood. Nowadays, Zhi luo works in Kyoto. As a result of working in photography, Zhi Luo wore Hanfu to work and became a landscape on the street. Although there were differences in the form and system of Han uniforms in different dynasties, Zhi Luo was very fond of it. She said: "Wear Tang and Song style when it's hot, Wei, Jin and Ming-style when it's cold, you can wear it all year round." Usually, Zhi Luo wears Chinese clothes to…

March is a hanfu enthusiast, She also insists on wearing Chinese clothes every day in her daily work, which affects colleagues and many people in the company. This time, she climbed the highest Chug peak in Germany in her hanfu, and the beautiful hanfu was praised by many tourists. Some photos of her trip to Germany: Some photos of daily wearing Hanfu:

Before, we introduced the way to wear a wist ruqun(one slice), and next, we will simply tell you how to wear a Qi xiong Ruqun(Chest Ruqun). Qi Xiong Ruqun is made up of front and back pieces(as the picture show). Step 1: Separate the front and back pieces and wear the back ones first. Step 2: tie up the back pieces. Step 3: tie up the front one(put white tape and red tape together). Step 4:Put an X-fork behind you, then take the tape to the front. Step 5: Make a knot. Step 6: The next step is to decorate the extra tape, wrap them in circles, just like a kind of Chinese food: Mahua (麻花, Fried Dough Twists). Step 7: Tie a knot at the end. Step 8: The red tape also needs to be wrap in circles. Finished~ Wearing Hanfu does not seem to be such a difficult thing, but it also requires repeated attempts to get the best look. If you have any questions during the wearing process, you are welcome to contact us by email, we will give you a more detailed explanation. More about how to wear Hanfu can be found here.

Many friends who have not touched Hanfu will have a lot of confusion when they wear Hanfu for the first time. How to wear it? Well, we will have a series of articles to simply tell you how to wear Hanfu. Today, let me show you how to wear a Waist Ruqun. First of all, what you have to know is that the Hanfu were without belts and buttons, all by lacing. The first one to introduce is Waist Ruqun(one slice), one slice means that the only one piece of dress. Step 1: Put the skirt over the waist, align the center of the skirt with the middle of the body, wrap the skirt around the waist and wrap the lower body. (This process is similar to a bathrobe after bathing.) Step 2: Sort out, and from the side, the place to be tied is left out. Step 3: Wrap the rope around the back (Note: cross the rope twice) Step 4: Then wrap around the front of the body. Step 5: Pass the rope through the part of the rope that has been tied to the waist Finished~ Wearing Hanfu does not seem to be such a difficult thing, but…

Today, we are talking about a magical guy, because he is very obsessed with Hanfu for 8 years, and in order to wear Hanfu, he has stayed his long hair for 4 years. What's the story of wearing Hanfu every day? Let's take a look! He is only 23 years old, wearing a Hanfu is very ancient. From the beginning of junior high school, he watched the Hanfu on TV. He thought that Hanfu is very traditional and has a feeling of traditional nationality, so he began to obsess with Hanfu from that time. Hanfu is a traditional national costume that has been inherited by the Han people for more than 4,000 years. It gives a fresh feeling to him. In order to make Hanfu more beautiful, he began to keep his hair. Opened his home wardrobe, all are Hanfu clothes, there are more than 30 sets of various styles, all kinds of colors, the habit of buying Hanfu, the love of Hanfu, is obsessed. Whether it is cold winter or hot summer, he insists on wearing Hanfu to go out. Everyone has paid a lot of attention to him, and he has become the "Starman". How do you understand…

Can a historical drama thrive on cunning strategy and raw vengeance alone? The new series The Vendetta of An (长安二十四计) argues a resounding yes. Diverging from the romantic fantasies flooding the market, this show plants its flag firmly in the territory of high-stakes political intrigue and personal retribution. Its premiere has ignited fervent discussion, positioning it as a potential dark horse in the year-end lineup. The appeal lies not in lavish costumes or fantastical elements, but in a grounded, relentless narrative driven by complex characters portrayed by a formidable ensemble cast. It is a stark, compelling reminder of the power of a well-told story of revenge. A Cast of Calculated Performances The series' greatest strength is its collective acting prowess. Cheng Yi (成毅) shatters his previous youthful image to portray Xie Huai'an (谢淮安), a man transformed from a brilliant prodigy into a patient schemer burning with a ten-year-old grievance. His performance is a masterclass in restraint, where simmering rage and profound hurt are conveyed through a subdued gaze and measured delivery rather than overt outbursts. A line like "I cannot bear to see any of my enemies meet a good end" lands with chilling precision because of the quiet intensity…

Have you recently scrolled past a historical drama photo where a young actor's helmet is crowned with two wildly long, colorful feathers? This exact image of actor Zhang Linghe (张凌赫) from the costume drama Chasing the Jade (逐玉) set the internet abuzz. Fans were instantly reminded of the iconic Monkey King, Sun Wukong (孙悟空), leading many to joke, "Has ancient costume drama borrowed the Great Sage's style?" This striking headdress, far from a modern fantasy invention, is a deliberate callback to a deep and symbolic tradition in Chinese performance arts. Known as pheasant feathers or "Zhijiling (雉鸡翎)", these plumes are more than decorative flair. They are a dynamic language of their own, whispering tales of character, status, and millennia of cultural evolution directly from the wearer's brow. Roots in Ritual and Battle The story of these feathers begins not on stage, but in ancient ceremony. Their earliest traceable lineage connects to the ritual dances of the Zhou Dynasty, governed by the strict codes of Zhou Li (周礼). In these performances, particularly the esteemed "Ba Yi (八佾)" dance reserved for imperial rites, dancers held ceremonial implements called "Di (翟)." These were often crafted from the long, iridescent tail feathers of pheasants,…

When actress Zhang Yaqin (张雅钦) recently appeared in a Hanfu ensemble, the internet divided. For some, it was an immediate callback to her role as Lu Yuan (陆鸢) in the time-travel drama An Ancient Love Song (古相思曲). For many others, the look missed the mark, feeling disjointed and overly busy. Why did this particular outfit, rich in historical references, fail to resonate? The answer lies not in a lack of beauty, but in a collision of eras. Her styling became a textbook case of how mixing distinct historical aesthetics without a unifying vision can create visual confusion, pulling the observer out of the immersive fantasy such clothing aims to build. Historical Harmony Lost The most striking issue is the temporal dissonance. Her hairstyle is a Shuang Huan Wang Xian Ji (双鬟望仙髻), a high, twin-loop style popular during the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern Dynasties, often seen in deity and court lady paintings. This ethereal look was complemented by dangling side locks, or Chui Shao (垂髾), enhancing the otherworldly vibe. However, the hairpins tell a different story. She wore two styles of Buyao (步摇), or step-shakers. One was a Western Han design, its dangling beads meant to sway gently with…

A recent public appearance by actress Yang Mi ignited a fiery online debate. Her choice? A meticulously crafted traditional Chinese hair bun paired not with a Qipao or modernized Hanfu, but with a crisp, contemporary blouse. Critics were quick to declare the mix a mismatch, questioning the logic behind blending a classical hairstyle with Western-style fashion. Yet, this seemingly simple style clash touches on deeper questions about tradition, modernity, and who gets to define the rules of cultural expression. Is this a fashion faux pas, or a bold step towards redefining a heritage art form for a new generation? A Historical Journey The Chinese hair bun, or Ji (髻), is far more than a hairstyle. Its history is woven into the fabric of social rites and personal identity. In ancient China, the act of a young woman putting up her hair for the first time during the Jiji Li (及笄礼), or Hair Pinning Ceremony, was a pivotal rite of passage into adulthood. This transformation from loose locks to a secured bun was a powerful social symbol. Archaeological evidence suggests the practice dates back to the Neolithic Age, evolving significantly through dynasties. The Han Dynasty favored soft, low-hanging chignons that conveyed…

In many television series set against the backdrop of the Tang Dynasty, like the popular drama Flourished Peony (锦绣芳华), audiences often notice the distinctive headwear worn by characters. This item, which might look oddly familiar to a modern eye, is called a Futou (幞头). It was the most common form of male headgear during that era, a simple yet sophisticated piece of cloth that evolved into a powerful symbol of identity and status. Far from being a static fashion item, its transformation mirrors the social and cultural currents of one of China's most celebrated dynasties. More Than Just Cloth The Futou originated as a practical headscarf. Its basic form involved wrapping a piece of black silk or linen around the head. There were two primary methods: the soft wrap and the hard wrap. The soft wrap was for everyday use, where the cloth was tied directly onto the head, conforming to its shape. The hard wrap was more structured. It required a stiffened base, known as a Jinzi (巾子), placed on the head first. The cloth was then wrapped over this frame to create a more pronounced and formal shape. The style of the Jinzi changed noticeably over time. In…

Viewers of recent Korean dramas have been charmed by a peculiar styling choice: characters often lounge at home wearing what looks like a bath towel twisted into playful “sheep horns” on their heads. This trend, sparking countless social media tutorials, feels distinctly modern. Yet a recent archaeological revelation suggests this playful accessory has a precedent over a millennium old and thousands of miles away. A painted grey pottery figurine from a Tang Dynasty tomb is wearing what appears to be the very same style, challenging our assumptions about novelty and tracing a fascinating thread through fashion history. An Ancient Discovery The figurine was excavated from the tomb of Mu Tai (穆泰), a border defense general during the Tang Dynasty. His burial site, located in Qingcheng (庆城) County, contains clear evidence of cultural exchange between Han Chinese and northern nomadic traditions. The statue’s headwear is the standout feature: two distinct, cloth-like protrusions curve upward from the sides of the head, strikingly similar to the twisted “sheep horn” towel look popularized on screen today. Scholars quickly identified this not as a typical Han Chinese crown, but as a form of Fanmao (蕃帽), or “foreign cap.” These caps, referenced in Tang and Song…

A new period mystery series quietly premiered on national television, yet its arrival stirred little immediate fanfare. Treasure at Dawn (天书黎明) features young investigators using ancient medical wisdom to solve crimes, a premise that seemed ripe for attention. Starring Li Hongyi (李宏毅), Su Xiaotong (苏晓彤), and Yu Cheng'en (余承恩), the show promised a blend of historical intrigue and Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) unlike anything else on air. Despite its creative ambitions, viewer numbers have been modest, leaving many to wonder if this unique drama has been prematurely overlooked. What happens when a detective's toolkit contains not a magnifying glass, but acupuncture needles and herbal formulas? A Novel Prescription The series immediately distinguishes itself through its core investigative method. The story begins with a mass poisoning at a medical gathering. Li Hongyi's character, Fu Sheng (符生), a young physician, finds himself the prime suspect after his mentor dies clutching a rare medicinal ingredient. To clear his name, he must rely on the Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon (黄帝内经), applying diagnostic principles like observation, listening, questioning, and palpation to crime scenes. A discolored tongue coating or an irregular pulse becomes a vital clue. In the opening episodes, over twenty specialized TCM terms are…

Imagine a garment so versatile it bridged the gap between the dusty plains and the gilded halls of imperial palaces. This was the journey of the Bijia (比甲), a sleeveless jacket that evolved from a Mongol practical essential into a defining icon of Ming Dynasty fashion. Its story is not merely one of changing hemlines and fabrics, but a fascinating reflection of cultural exchange, social mobility, and aesthetic innovation. By tracing its path, we uncover how clothing can transcend its original purpose to become a canvas for identity and artistry. Saddle to Street The Bijia's origin is rooted in utility. Designed during the Yuan Dynasty under Empress Chabi (察必) of the Khongirad tribe, its primary function was to facilitate riding and archery. The classic design featured a front opening secured by ties, no sleeves or collar, and a back panel longer than the front. This ingenious cut protected the rider's core from wind while allowing complete freedom of movement for the arms. Initially, it was apparel for the steppe and the aristocracy, a common sight in the Yuan court but rare among the general populace. Following the Yuan-Ming transition, one might have expected this distinctly Mongol garment to fade. Instead,…

A photograph stops the scroll. Actress Hui Yinghong (惠英红), a figure synonymous with cinematic gravity, stands not in a contemporary gown but wrapped in the sweeping lines of a traditional Daxiushan (大袖衫). The image sparked immediate fascination: the grand-sleeved robe, a relic of ancient Chinese elegance, was worn not as a historical costume but as a striking modern outer layer. This was not a museum piece but a living garment. The public reaction was a mix of surprise and admiration, highlighting a collective realization. Here was a tangible bridge between a profound aesthetic past and the dynamic language of present-day style. This single sartorial choice posed a compelling question about the very nature of tradition—is it a boundary to be preserved, or a foundation to be built upon? Historical Silhouettes The Daxiushan is far from a monolith; its form evolved across dynasties, each cut telling a story of its time. In the luxurious courts of the Late Tang and Five Dynasties periods, its most dramatic iteration emerged: a robe with a front hem reaching the waist or knees, while the back cascaded into a long, trailing train. Paired with high-waisted skirts, this created an unmistakable silhouette of flowing, dignified movement,…

A recent photoshoot featuring actress Zhang Yuxi (张予曦) has captivated social media, not for a new drama role, but for a breathtaking interpretation of bridal wear. Set against the backdrop of a windswept beach, the images present her not merely as a bride, but as a mythical figure emerging from the sea itself. The series transcends conventional wedding photography, framing a narrative where fashion, nature, and personal expression converge into a single, powerful visual statement. This isn't just a dress photographed near the ocean; it is a gown conceptually born from it, challenging traditional notions of bridal sanctity with a wave of liquid romance and effortless grace. The Gown as Art At the heart of this spectacle is the dress itself, a masterclass in thematic design. The sweetheart neckline bodice, embroidered with pearls and delicate feather-like motifs, catches the light with a subtle, shimmering effect. This careful embellishment creates the illusion of sunlight dancing on water, a direct translation of the ocean's sparkle into wearable art. The fabric appears alive, its texture and details meticulously crafted to echo the natural environment surrounding her. The silhouette is a defining feature. A fitted mermaid cut flares into a cascading train of layered…

The image stopped countless scrolling fingers mid-motion. There, bathed in the ethereal lavender haze of blooming wisteria, stood actress Zhang Yuxi (张予曦), transformed. At 34, she was not merely wearing a costume but embodying a vision, a seamless blend of person, place, and tradition. Her photoshoot, set against the unexpected backdrop of European-style architecture draped with cascading purple flowers, became an overnight sensation. It was more than a celebrity fashion spread; it was a statement. This moment captured a powerful contemporary dialogue between a modern Chinese woman and an ancient sartorial art form, suggesting that true elegance is not bound by era or age, but is a living, breathing continuum. A Portrait in Violet The genius of the look lies in its meticulous harmony. Zhang Yuxi's Hanfu is a soft symphony in powdered lavender and plum, its delicate embroidery tracing floral patterns that seem to echo the living wisteria around her. The ensemble avoids ostentatious grandeur, opting instead for a refined, almost poetic grace. A pivotal detail is the outer robe, trimmed with a subtle, downy fringe. This touch adds a tangible texture and depth, preventing the flowing silks from appearing flat, and introduces a whisper of delicate luxury. Every…