Can I be fashionable and Muslim?
How do I combine my value of modest dress with my human desire to be fashionable? A little voice in my head pipes up and says "I want to be fashionable!" I don't want to be eyed up for my vital statistics, but I do want to be noticed for my style. Are faith and fashion compatible?
Picture a Muslim and you probably imagine a rather stern looking long-bearded uncle with a dour expression, or a jilbab-swathed niqab-covered woman. Their clothes will sway modestly in a range of whites or blacks that the colour-naming people at Dulux would be proud of: Unnoticeable Noir or Inconspicuous Ebony for the dark ladies' attire, Nearly New White or Pious Purity for the men's dazzling jalabiyas.
The climax of this style of dress is in Makkah, during the hajj season. I am mesmerised during this period when I watch the swirls of black and white circulate around the Ka'bah, the House of God and the focus of Muslim prayer. There is an elegance to the complementary balance of the two colours, the yin and yang of the male and female. I myself have stood admiring the unfussy clothing of men and women in such mosques, clothing which is equally loose and modest for both genders. I revel there in the simplicity of the fashion which has poise and grace and lends itself to furthering the spiritual quest.
Back in the mundane world, visiting friends and family, going out to work, participating in community affairs, there is a little voice in my head pipes up and says "I want to wear colour!" or, more surprisingly, "I want to be fashionable!" I don’t want to look ugly, I want to be aesthetic. I don't want to be eyed up for my vital statistics, but I do want to be noticed for my style. How do I combine my value of modest dress with my human desire to be fashionable? Are faith and fashion incompatible?
The hijab is certainly not immune to trends. There are square headscarves, long ones and circular ones to name but a few. They come in all colours and fabrics. There is even fashion to be observed in black scarves. They come in two-tone, with embroidery, tassels, diamonds, lace. Selecting the right black scarf for the right occasion from the enormous noir collections of some Muslim women is an art form. Long cloaks are the same: they come in different textiles, different cuts, buttoned, sleeved, sheer with lining.
Watching women comparing their latest modest cloaks and scarves is an endearing revelation of the glory of humanity. Even the strict unemotional guidelines of black jilbabs, hijabs and niqabs are joyously brought to life by the most modest and particular of women under the God-given healthy desire of human beings to be individuals.
There is a simple human joy in taking pride in what you wear. Human beings were designed to be clothed. In the Islamic tradition, one of God's names is Jamaal, beauty, and He loves beauty. Why would He then not love beautiful (modest) dress? Ali ibn Abi Talib, the son-in-law of the Prophet, takes his young servant to the market one day insisting that the servant buys a nice shirt. Young people should be nicely dressed, he explains. Out in the Middle East, dashing young men buy their tailored jalabiyas, from Armani.
I flick through some fashion magazines looking for ideas of how I can fuse the parameters of modest dress with style. I take a promenade round the shops, enjoying my window-shopping as much as the next British woman. This summer looks promising, lots of knee-length floaty dresses that I can team up with a pair of trousers, and a long sleeve t-shirt underneath if required. Some of the prints are big and loud – will they attract too much attention? Some of the dresses look a bit clingy, perhaps making my curves a bit too obvious? Where lies the happy fusion between my spiritual search for modesty and my human desire for aesthetics and individuality?
The fashion industry wants to expose every insulting bump of my cellulite and every delicious curve with its post-modern lycra look. "The bumps and curves are mine all mine!" I cry. Neither should be up for public scrutiny. They are for me to know and you to mind your own business. I want to reclaim the mystery of being a woman, I want to assert the feminine glamour and grace that are my God-given due.
The little voice in my head tells me that the fashion industry sucks. A pox upon the limited choice it offers me and its bittersweet style dictatorship! Fashion as fascism? I'm too hooked to the idea of being fashionable to think such a heretical thought. Nonetheless, I sigh helplessly at the black and white choices I'm offered: stylish and skimpy; modest and frumpy; androgynous and depressed. Black jilbab or black mini-skirt? It is a false dichotomy this black or black choice.
The glossy women's magazines are the soft gentle face of the fashion police. They create the rules on how to dress and then enforce compliance. The Tehran police in Iran was less subtle. It recently commissioned local designers to come up with 'trendy' outer wear for women. The aim was to give women choices of Islamic dress while remaining within the letter of the law.
The rule-makers are missing the point. They may be able to govern clothing with their laws. But fashion, like faith, is an expression of the spirit.
Picture a Muslim and you probably imagine a rather stern looking long-bearded uncle with a dour expression, or a jilbab-swathed niqab-covered woman. Their clothes will sway modestly in a range of whites or blacks that the colour-naming people at Dulux would be proud of: Unnoticeable Noir or Inconspicuous Ebony for the dark ladies' attire, Nearly New White or Pious Purity for the men's dazzling jalabiyas.
The climax of this style of dress is in Makkah, during the hajj season. I am mesmerised during this period when I watch the swirls of black and white circulate around the Ka'bah, the House of God and the focus of Muslim prayer. There is an elegance to the complementary balance of the two colours, the yin and yang of the male and female. I myself have stood admiring the unfussy clothing of men and women in such mosques, clothing which is equally loose and modest for both genders. I revel there in the simplicity of the fashion which has poise and grace and lends itself to furthering the spiritual quest.
Back in the mundane world, visiting friends and family, going out to work, participating in community affairs, there is a little voice in my head pipes up and says "I want to wear colour!" or, more surprisingly, "I want to be fashionable!" I don’t want to look ugly, I want to be aesthetic. I don't want to be eyed up for my vital statistics, but I do want to be noticed for my style. How do I combine my value of modest dress with my human desire to be fashionable? Are faith and fashion incompatible?
The hijab is certainly not immune to trends. There are square headscarves, long ones and circular ones to name but a few. They come in all colours and fabrics. There is even fashion to be observed in black scarves. They come in two-tone, with embroidery, tassels, diamonds, lace. Selecting the right black scarf for the right occasion from the enormous noir collections of some Muslim women is an art form. Long cloaks are the same: they come in different textiles, different cuts, buttoned, sleeved, sheer with lining.
Watching women comparing their latest modest cloaks and scarves is an endearing revelation of the glory of humanity. Even the strict unemotional guidelines of black jilbabs, hijabs and niqabs are joyously brought to life by the most modest and particular of women under the God-given healthy desire of human beings to be individuals.
There is a simple human joy in taking pride in what you wear. Human beings were designed to be clothed. In the Islamic tradition, one of God's names is Jamaal, beauty, and He loves beauty. Why would He then not love beautiful (modest) dress? Ali ibn Abi Talib, the son-in-law of the Prophet, takes his young servant to the market one day insisting that the servant buys a nice shirt. Young people should be nicely dressed, he explains. Out in the Middle East, dashing young men buy their tailored jalabiyas, from Armani.
I flick through some fashion magazines looking for ideas of how I can fuse the parameters of modest dress with style. I take a promenade round the shops, enjoying my window-shopping as much as the next British woman. This summer looks promising, lots of knee-length floaty dresses that I can team up with a pair of trousers, and a long sleeve t-shirt underneath if required. Some of the prints are big and loud – will they attract too much attention? Some of the dresses look a bit clingy, perhaps making my curves a bit too obvious? Where lies the happy fusion between my spiritual search for modesty and my human desire for aesthetics and individuality?
The fashion industry wants to expose every insulting bump of my cellulite and every delicious curve with its post-modern lycra look. "The bumps and curves are mine all mine!" I cry. Neither should be up for public scrutiny. They are for me to know and you to mind your own business. I want to reclaim the mystery of being a woman, I want to assert the feminine glamour and grace that are my God-given due.
The little voice in my head tells me that the fashion industry sucks. A pox upon the limited choice it offers me and its bittersweet style dictatorship! Fashion as fascism? I'm too hooked to the idea of being fashionable to think such a heretical thought. Nonetheless, I sigh helplessly at the black and white choices I'm offered: stylish and skimpy; modest and frumpy; androgynous and depressed. Black jilbab or black mini-skirt? It is a false dichotomy this black or black choice.
The glossy women's magazines are the soft gentle face of the fashion police. They create the rules on how to dress and then enforce compliance. The Tehran police in Iran was less subtle. It recently commissioned local designers to come up with 'trendy' outer wear for women. The aim was to give women choices of Islamic dress while remaining within the letter of the law.
The rule-makers are missing the point. They may be able to govern clothing with their laws. But fashion, like faith, is an expression of the spirit.
Labels: humour, Muslim women, Niqab, personal
posted by Shelina Zahra Janmohamed at 23:56
3 Comments:
lovely post! Nicely said.
Lovely article :-)
And you had tea with the queen!!
Thank you very much for your post, made me feel better about my desire to look nice and yet, within the Islamic law which is not at all easy job...Thank you
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