Globe Corner Blogs

Paris, London, Milan… Hanoi?  Vietnam is known for many things, but high fashion usually isn’t one of them.  I’d been in Southeast Asia for two months by the time I reached Vietnam, and I wasn’t really thinking about what the locals would be wearing.  The crowds in Asia had so far been a mix of t-shirts, jeans, saris, silk sarongs, and brightly colored traditional scarves and jackets.  These were my favorite, the black or navy wraps that tie at the sides with intricate, neon embroidery  along the borders; bells, coins, and seashells are sewn on for good measure.  The Traditional Arts & Ethnology Museum in Luang Prabang identified the design as Hmong, an ethnic tribe found in the mountains of north Vietnam and Laos.  The museum, and its very chic cafe, exhibited local textiles, explaining the designs and customs unique to each region and ethnicity.  Small children, I’d noticed, often wore square caps with pink and green fabric sewn onto the crown and dainty neon pom-poms and bells adorning four corners.  Besides being especially cute, it turns out that parents from animist tribes make these to disguise their children as dandelions, hoping to prevent evil forest spirits from stealing away with their adorable souls.

After a few weeks in Thailand and Laos, culture shock had promptly worn off, and I had grown accustomed to scenes of petal-headed children playing on the side of the road, their parents hovering in American t-shirts and sarongs.  Hanoi, though, was full of fashion surprises.  In addition to the conical, woven hats and traditional garb I’d come across, it seemed that every young girl in Hanoi was in desperate need of a sparkling, sprawling, ruffling, glittering prom dress.  Walking through the narrow streets, dodging motorcycles and waving away bicycle taxis, I saw shop after shop devoted entirely to these dresses that would be deemed too flamboyant and over-the-top for the Miss America contest: Miss Georgia 1985 would laugh; Molly Ringwald would gawk; science fiction movies had never seen such dresses.  I couldn’t imagine that the beautiful women of Vietnam would pass up the elegance of the ao dais, the high collared dress that splits on each side up to the waist and covers flowing pajama pants, for the candy-colored ruffles of these prom dress nightmares.  The ubiquitous communist red and Mao hats from the war were more stylish, I thought.

On my way to the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum, a few days later, I walked past a wedding reception outside a hotel.  The bride, in a western, white gown, was hugging her brides maids goodbye, all of them crying and kissing and smiling.  The women were dressed in these fluffy, sequined disasters with their curled hair pinned up and their faces masks of pink make-up.  Somehow, it seemed to work.  The dresses were ever so slightly less terrifying.  But only a little.

Read more: Hanoi, Hmong, Luang Prabang, Southeast Asia, Textiles, Travel, Travel Tips and Resources, World Fashion


Nicole -- Nicole hails from metropolian Conway, South Carolina. While she's not busy doing Southern things like eating biscuits and heavily buttered grits (often together), she likes to travel to other countries and eat their food. Her favorite exotic treats include: Icelandic Skyr, South Indian dosa, British Jaffa Cakes, and Austrian strudel.

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