#hungarian folk dress

[cornflakesdoesart]

Cseke and Róka fullbody color refs from...a year ago haha

[safije]

Sissi - 1955

[szelkovica]

Hungarian szűr, ancient type of embroidered coat made of fleece, traditionally worn by men.

It was a much-coveted object, and so costly that many men resorted to thievery to afford one.

(i can relate)

[imaginarycostumemuseum]

Interpretations of the Vlasca (Romania) dress.

[ghostfartooo]

Countess Orlok and her guards

[resplendentoutfit]

Painting to Dress Match-up: Queen Maria's portrait and her Romanian traditional outfits

A 1924 photograph of artist Philip de László, Queen Maria of Romania and the royal portrait by de László, London, England

Philip de László (Hungarian, ) • Queen Maria of Romania • 1924

I'm only today beginning to read about her, though it appears from photographs as well as a couple of existing gowns, that she was a very well dressed woman.

Court Dress worn by Queen Maria of Romania for the Coronation of her cousin Nicholas II of Russia • 1896 • Maryhill Museum of Art, Goldendale, Washington.

She was passionate about Romanian folk art and costume. There are number of photos online of Maria in traditional Romanian outfits, which were her preferred attire for daytime wear.

[madam-of-lithuania]

My graphic watercolour illustration with I finished in the midnight

This is for @bananoide01 DTIYS in Instagram

And I taken some few creative liberties there and the dress patterns were based and inspired by the Hungarian traditional folk art

The puppet star Erzsébet(Hws Hungary, in this AU she is a puppet, and now she gives me a little bit of the Shreks Pinocchio vibes)

Art advice and critique are allowed for my art improvements and learning

And now I gonna work on my other WIPS

My WIPS

CanLiet WIP with I still working on it and my other WIPS

[petermorwood]

So, I visited Europe for the first time in my life a few weeks ago - Rome specifically, right after the Pope opened the Christmas season there - and for the first time in my life tried roasted chestnuts. Are they always that sweet? I will admit to not liking nuts so the fact that they were easier to choke down than I expected was somewhat revelatory, but like still odd. Do you like roasted chestnuts? Also, how does conkers work?

Mostly asking because youre my best European source of knowledge of such things - there's no chestnuts to be had in America

First, there are two kinds of chestnuts, the kind you eat (Castenea, Sweet Chestnuts and the kind you don't (Aesculus, Horse Chestnuts).

(Water chestnuts, which don't grow on trees, are something else entirely.)

Second, there are definitely Castanea chestnuts in America, though I'm betting they're a regional thing so if you're not in the region, hard cheese, and they even appear in the first line of "The Christmas Song".

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,  Jack Frost nipping on your nose,  Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,  And folks dressed up like Eskimos.

The edible ones are definitely sweet, it's even in their name, but the burnt smell of them cooking might suggest they'll taste otherwise, so that can come as a surprise.

I don't care for them myself, though roasted chestnut purée mixed with rum, then topped with unsweetened whipped cream and maybe chocolate sauce is another matter entirely.

This treatment is variously credited as Hungarian, Italian and French; those who want to argue about it can sit over there, because sensible people who want to get on with eating it will be sitting over here...

*****

As for Aesculus conkers, the easiest way to explain them is to point you to this post.

Wearing schoolboy caps, oversized wellies or a severe short-back-and-sides haircut isn't compulsory, but might help. Or not.

[averagetmntfan]

People are drawing Miku from their cultures and

I want to draw Hungarian Miku w a folk dress

Like, THIS IS WHAT MY MAIN CULTURE LOOKS LIKE and everyone’s like oh yeah its probably boring bc youre European >:((

HOW DARE THEY- BUT YESS I SAW TREND!!!! I THINK IF U RLLY WANT TO GO FOR IT!!

also HOLY SHIT??? THOSE DRESS ARE SO PRETTY JSJDJ

also wtf are u doing up…isnt it Like, 2am for u…./silly/gen

[zoyazoy]

I'm hungarian and I'm so so happy you drew something else instead of the most popular matyó embroidery and style!

It's beautiful, but it's basically the only folk pattern pushed as "THE hungarian folk" and I wish other areas got more representation as well

I’m glad I draw it correctly ! The thought of my arts gave more representation to other folk dress made me so happy T_T The Hungarian dresses are beautiful and I will absolutely draw more region ! It’s a little difficult since most info are in their native languages but it won’t stop me from trying to learn and draw more about them! Me ♡ Hungary

[mahiiimahiiii]

A/n: Hi folks! This is from my late night writing folder- I wanted an excuse to write nobility durgetash. May I present:

Our Lady Of Debauchery...(and other things)

(Durgetash)| DUrge x Lord Enver Gortash | named durge

Our music choice:

+*+

Tyrants palace, known to the locals as a den of debauchery was filled. Carriages of all colors and sizes flocked to the grand staircase, each holding its precious cargo- nobles.

The tyrants right hand wasn't used to this.

Wynne, child of bhaal sat on a dressing room chair attended too excitable human staff attempting to style her recently washed and un-pressed hair.

As a drow, her hair had two settings- unruly and wildly beautiful curls, or silky and pin straight hair (often times recently pressed with a steel comb). She held back tears as they continued to pull her hair into an updo, lining it with pins and sweeping her bangs into waves. She looked like the ads of women she so envied as a child, whatever that was to a drow. They set curls next to her eyes spinning her around to apply makeup... It would've been simpler to using a transforming scroll at this point

Her study as she liked to call it was colored a deep green, the walls embelised with a golden flower pattern, and dark wood paneling. Instead of a bed it held a shelved nook coated in lavender sheets and pillows. A hearth and a lavish blue rug lay to the other side of the bed with a dark wood desk with matching chair, a large plus armchair sat next to the hearth and sat at her vanity, decorated with bottles of cremes and combs.

The girls whispered about the guests, a young elven magistrate with long silver hair was found out to be a bachelor, he gave lord gortash a run for his money. Orin would be making appearance was well as another famous lord from across ferun, sent an invite for the temptations he would bring. She only had one plan and one target, the next in lead for the flaming fist. The dread fours mole has been chosen, a lord named Ravenguard.

This would be the first step in their plan, it should and it must go well.

The dress fit over her shoulders and was pulled down, corset pulled taught by two other women. This was abnormal, she felt uncomfortable in all the layers. .

She had forgone the heels deciding that a nice pair of embroidered flats should suffice.

She must admit this dress was lovely, and she would be it's first tester. The sage green complemented her soft brown skin and silky silver hair, pink florals decorated the base and hems, a delicate embroidery.

Gortash had chosen this dress for her, as often the lording would prefer for the future lady gortash to be at least fashionably adept.

She would just prefer to wear a button down and loose slacks

She sighed clipping in her singular pearl earring, a heavy teardrop shape, another gift from her lover. She made the final adjustments, dusting rouge onto her nose and oiled charcoal onto her lids, her eyes darkened by the deep colors. The assassin sighed with contempt taking a final look in the mirror. She looked decent enough to perhaps pass as a noble.

Wynne cleaned her hands off, the trail of the dress lagging behind. "Is master gortash ready? Our appearance is within ten to twenty minutes."

"He's been ready ma'am, waiting for you in the parlor for a bit now"

She chuffed, lifting up the train of her gown greatly disturbed by the lack of movement. How she hated this, Enver Gortash will never hear the end of this. He was no lord to her, simply an officer of the law seeking out the greater ideal of grand design, something she sought out for purpose. It was lucky- when she suggested to her long time lover about it. It was even luckier when the szarr family had allowed her to use the Library without incident. Or it could be the blessings her father continually blessed her with as the more successful child.

And now, one little dance, one small appearance, one night of suffering- and then it will be back to pants.

"Enver? Darling? Are you ready?"

She called out.

A confirming hum sounded from down the hall, his eyes lit up when he saw her. their warm and rich depths drinking her in . His hair was slicked back, this was not a good look for him.

"You look gorgeous! My beautiful huntress..." He cupped her chin kissing the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. "You look delicious...ugh, what a shame we have an event to attend." His eyes glittered.

"I hate this." She frowned "I hate your hair that way. I hate heels, I hate dresses, I hate people, I want to go lay under my blanket and have a large glass of wine and dwarf meat pies."

"Come now, don't be a downer. Does your blade not hunger for a cull? You'll be getting a sweet bloody treat later on- I'll let you keep the flesh."

She paused, thoughtful. "I do like flesh....."

"That's the spirit darling. Come now, we should be announced soon." He shook out his hair, no longer slicked back but slightly long and unruly. She liked it that way- as wild as his dark eyes.

From the parlor the manor house changed, dark flooring to beautiful creme tile, matching creme walls and chestnut panneling. Gold, and blue accents and paintings of nymphs and sleepy goats lined the walls.

One portrait was new, a woman with brown skin, deep burgundy eyes with a sad expression, her lips held a solum pout. Her hair was silvery blue, almost ethereal- she wore a simple blue dress and held items of selune.

"My heart- is that portrait new?" she admired the details as they passed. They walked arm in arm one of his hand petting her hand attached.

"It is indeed" he rumbled "I asked for your likeness- is it to your expectations?"

"Do I always look that sad then." She tilted her head, attempting to force a smile. Her lips found it hard to mold around.

He shrugged "I suppose, perhaps that's what the artist saw in your face. Asked them to use the portrait you gave me."

"ha! My father's portrait of me hm? I do look sad in that photo, mainly because I was hungry ."

"Perhaps we shall take more photos. Maybe we will capture your beautiful smile-" he plants a gentle kiss on her lips, his stubble gently scratching against her smooth skin.

They exhaled, contented, and anticipated the rush of noise following their announcement

"Enver, I am never doing this again. "

"I don't expect you too my darling"

The doors opened up and their names were announced

*Lady Wynne, paladin of selune and Lord Gortash of Wyrmere*

She shifted, uncomfortable at the attention. "I would much rather a discreet entrance but if this is the... Tradition. I shall do it."

She waved to the eyes and turned her way a cheesed smile plastered on her face.

"Think of it as any other scenario where I ask you to blend, remember you can be out of the dress after the first dance. Then our goal is to take out the target." He hummed, one hand on her waist. "Now because we are hosting this gala we must sit at the head of the table.

"Ugh just say I'm sick for that- Ill with the plague or some shit."

"Of course my darling." He helped her down the grand staircase, wary of her footing in the dress. She managed to look like she was floating down the stairs, she had an impression to make, this was her first noble circle appearance after all

The hall was loud, filled with a symphony voices each as distinct as a snowflake. Temples and churches sent their representatives, a contented looking, tall teifling escorted you to your seats. Her smile bright and her hands warm. Karlach her name was. One of Gortash's best.

Karlach was it? Beautiful creature she was. Would be a joy to see her innards.

Unfortunately within the realms of polite company such actions or thoughts are shamed.

Wynne smiled and introduced herself to the swarming hive of chatter, hands shook, flesh on flesh. Her ears rang with sound much louder than before: string instruments.

A dance had begun a good sign to keep her eyes peeled. A slight ping from her earring sent her catching Envers eye, he nodded toward the floor, before stopped by a shorter man dressed in a brilliant green frock.

They shook hands and fondly discussed things like old friends. The tyrant waved her over a tired "hold-it-together" smile on his face.

"Here's the lady of the hour!" He hummed taking her hand "lady Wynne, this is ... Lord? Astarion"

"Please - it's just Astarion, Astarion Anuncinn. At you and the lord's service." He paused "I am.. unfamiliar with the custom of meeting drow - is there a specific greeting?"

Her ears wiggled in odd excitement, "while I find it imensly charmed that you would ask, a handshake is fine. Our culture is no different than the norm."

The magistrate paused for a second, his eyes were gentle and thoughtful. "I'm sorry I hadn't meant to offend you" curls framed his face, silvery like spider silk, or a fine Iron. His milky white face bloomed with a faint pink in his cheeks, beautiful streaks of watercolor. How he'd make a pretty corpse.

"I can assure you none was taken. Now, astarion was it? What do you do for work?"

She hadn't expected to become this social. Hadn't expected someone charming such as the magistrate. His voice sung of an un-quenchable desire for something. Knowledge? Hunger? Power? Men and their secrets.

"hm? Me?" His hand was gloved "my lady, we have been hardly introduced- and you're already prying! How naughty." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles delicately. "Charmed. would you like to go somewhere quiet to discuss then?"

"Oh no!" She hummed "I'd like to leave period."

He raised his brow, something sparkling in his eye. "why does a sweet treat like you want to leave? I'm sure you'd be the belle of the ball"

"That's the point- I do not like the attention." His hand covered hers in a comforting way, his hands were cool, a low thrumming pulse emminating from them, though not sure from whom it was.

He hummed slowly, almost quizzical. His long lashes lowered and looking through them, "then why are you here."

She had never expected a question so personal. "I suppose.. it is my duty ultimately, as is every noble. Though I do not consider myself amongst their *ilk*"

He adjusted his ruffle collar "neither do I, I appear for my father often. He's less inclined to show up to parties like this." He paused for a moment "would you like to dance? Or perhaps we can find another quiet area to experience each other's company... Completely."

She hummed rocking back on her heels. "I am unsure how these parties work. Would you be willing to teach me?"

His smile was wide, cupids lip pulled taught and ready to fire. "I would quite like too."

*Don't get too carried away love. Remember to have a job to do*

He held out his hand, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. Wynne gingerly set her hand in his.

A string quartet played a slow and alluring rhythm as he spun her about. Careful and mindful of her feet- soft padded heels clicking against the floor

Perhaps this was the last time in her life she would have fun. Perhaps she should savor it.

Who knew.

[mirellabruno]

EMILIE FLÖGE (1874-1952) First liberated Viennese woman, Austrian Coco Chanel immortalized in Klimt’s phenomenal Kiss. (re)ascending the social ladder Emilie Flöge was born into a Viennese artisan family that had only recently ascended the ladder of social respectability. Her father Hermann was a master turner who had founded a firm that exported Meerschaum pipes, mostly to the British market. between silk and lace Always passionate about fashion, Emilie quickly started working as a seamstress, and when her elder sister, Pauline, opened a dressmaking school in Vienna, Emilie willingly agreed to help. Two years later, in 1895, the two of them won a prestigious dressmaking competition. In 1904 Flöge sisters opened the couture house Schwestern Flöge in Vienna, with interiors designed by Josef Hoffmann. It quickly became a successful enterprise luring wealthy clients committed to modernity in all its forms. At its prime, the company employed nearly 80 workers. reforming the dress In addition to heading the Schwestern Flöge, Emilie also maintained a direct, hands-on role in production, often pinning fabric to a dummy (custom-made to a client’s proportions) before directing fabric-cutters to reassemble it. She traveled to Paris twice a year to source fabric, belts and buttons. But what really fascinated her, was an idea to rethink women’s dress. Using her familiarity with Wiener Werkstätte projects, folk costumes and Japanese textiles, she soon created her very own Reform Dress. revolutionizing fashion stores By the time Chanel opened her first salon in Paris, Flöge had been producing cutting-edge designs in Vienna for several years. Her loose, flowing and bold dresses rejected the tight-laced style of historicist Vienna already carving out new roles for women in the industry. Flöge’s fashion celebrated physical freedom, self-expression, closeness to nature, and the vitality of other ethnicities from within the Austro-Hungarian Empire itself to the Far East. Unlike other retail stores, the Flöge sisters displayed alluring art objects that were not for sale. The store was decorated with beauticians, tortoise shell combs, marbled paper notebooks, silver chalices and hand-carved wooden dolls. Instead of copying popular design trends of the time, Schwestern Flöge was furnished with sleek, adjustable mirrors; geometric, carved wood chairs; and black-and-white chequered tables. relationship with Klimt In 1892 Emilie was introduced to Ernst Klimt, who recently got engaged with her sister - Helene. He was a talented painter gaining recognition for his work alongside his younger brother - Gustav. After Ernst’s death in December 1892, Gustav was made Helene's guardian. At that time Emilie was eighteen years old and Gustav became a frequent guest at the home of her parents, spending the summers with the Flöge family at Lake Attersee. By 1897, Emilie Flöge and Gustav Klimt had become inseparable, and most Viennese close to the couple assumed that she had in fact become his mistress. While there can be no doubt that the couple were passionately attached emotionally, and would spend countless hours in each other's company over the next two decades, some scholars have raised the possibility that their relationship always remained platonic. After 1891, Klimt portrayed her in many of his works. Experts believe that his painting The Kiss (1907–08) shows the artist and Emilie Flöge as lovers. Klimt also drew some garments for the Flöge salon in the rational dress style - a style promoted by the feminist movement - and from 1898, other clothes designed by the Vienna Secession. fin de siècle By the time Nazis invaded Austria in 1938, many of Schwestern Flöge’s clientele, who were Jewish, had fled the country or were deported to concentration camps. Like neighboring businesses — both established and burgeoning — they were forced to close. Emilie Flöge never wrote her memoirs, but despite the paucity of sources historians have been able to reconstruct the story of her powerful influence as the muse of one of fin-de-siècle Vienna's greatest artists. Among the last survivors from an utterly vanished world, she died in Vienna on May 26, 1952. KNOW MORE: https://www.harpersbazaar.com/culture/art-books-music/a12241915/klimt-muse-emilie-floge-forgotten-fashion-designer/ https://www.crfashionbook.com/culture/a22835087/emilie-floge-art-fashion-cr-muse/ https://www.encyclopedia.com/women/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/floge-emilie-1874-1952

[phoenixduelist]

@memcria , for Esmeralda based on the August 20th starter

Slight trouble was stirring at the Austro-Hungarian borders as the Queen decided to send a mock invite to the previous oppressors to join her in celebrating Hungary's independence. Petty? Absolutely. Was everyone in Buda laughing at her audacity? Of course. Perhaps even the Ottomans had a chuckle, considering how their ambassador accepted her offer with surprising amount of respect. He was probably already drunk somewhere, after all, Buda wasn't exactly new to them.

That being said, the castle doors opened wide for anyone wishing to spend the day there, she was quite sure it was Count Bélássy who fainted upon announcing. Merchants filled streets and castle alike, most of their products free or cheap, as they had been paid previously by the Queen. Harvest flourished despite the recent wars waged, she saw no downside of feeding the lower classes and paying for the merchants' craft upfront for a seamless celebration.

Performers could be found at every corner, dancers, storytellers, actors, musicians, and of course fencers. The swords were blunt, therefore Rozália would've taken no delight in the activity; she had her own attraction for the old times' sake, not involving dull blades. The Queen of course refused to sit and smile nicely throughout the whole day, itching to move, mingle, to have an unfiltered opinion on how people were feeling and how they saw her.

Continuing King Matthias' infamous peasant disguise which sparked many folk tales, she followed in his footsteps steadily, ditching the crown and jewels something more simple. A flowing blouse with bright red roses sewn up to the shoulders, high waisted fitted pants with a leather underbust corset, two swords sewn into the material, completed with simple knee high riding boots. The only accessory was the swordbelt, although that was more like a part of her. Her hair kept short and unruly, a little blessing in disguise in the summer heat.

Especially when she spotted some extremely elegantly dressed ladies violently fanning themselves. Well, she said the castle is open for everyone. Maybe they were scared of her lurking, waiting in a dark corner. The thought brought a deep chuckle from her, they weren't so wrong after all.

Rozália was pleased to see her orders being followed, both regarding food and allowing in whoever wished. She adored dancers, meanwhile she wasn't bad, the shimmering ebony haired woman was obviously more talented and head turning. While all eyes followed the graceful woman's form, some ladies stomping onto their husbands' feet for looking bordering on disrespect, Rozália slipped most of the sum she decided to carry with herself into the pot.

She was magnetic, no reason in trying to deny the fact. She didn't perform because she had to, because she wanted to; that was brighter than the sun glittering on the Danube. Therefore she waited a respectable time after her dance ended and the crowd was distracted by a new attraction.

“Pardon me, Miss” her rich voice cut through the blur of the background noise with confidence, the accent stronger than usual as a result of not using the language in a while. Maybe she didn't speak English...nevermind, she will try Spanish and Italian then.

“You must have heard this from many before, allow me to add the truth to the pile: I haven't seen a lady finer than you in this city. Kingdom, possibly.” petal lips smiled softly, hiding its thorns within. Rozália had no intention to hurt or even to frighten her, quite the opposite. Maybe it was better she probably didn't recognize her, she would've hated if she felt threatened into keeping her accompanied if she didn't wish to.

“May I be so bold to ask for your name?” the Queen bowed slightly before returning to her full height, no doubt imposing by its own, along with her build “Of course, I understand if you don't wish to share. In that case, I will leave for you to enjoy the festivities in peace.”

[budapestbug]

n Hungary and in Hungarian communities worldwide, a key element of celebrating Christmas is a traditional custom, the Bethlehem Shepherd’s play (Betlehemes játék). The present-day version of the Bethlehem folk play originates from the 19th-20th century, although it may date back as far as the medieval times.

The players called “Betlehemesek” go from house to house, dressed as Mary, Joseph, angels, shepherds, and the Three Kings, narrating scenes about the birth of Christ. An essential part of the play is the homemade manger or small church, carried along by one of the players.

The Bethlehem Shepherd’s play acted out by peasants and shepherds at first, and later mostly by children, usually covers the following events:

* There is no room for Mary and Joseph in the inn. * An angel of the Lord comes to the shepherds, who keep watch over their flock by night. The heavenly messenger brings the good tidings in Latin, a language not clearly understood by the shepherds, which creates misunderstandings that put a smile on the audience’s face. * Once they understand the message, the shepherds go and worship the little Jesus.

At the conclusion of the play, the Betlehemesek ask for alms (candy or other gifts), which is gladly given, in the spirit of Christmas.

At the turn of the century, there was a tradition in Szeged, which involved the shepherds marching into the Church for the Midnight Mass, sounding their bagpipes, and offering a lamb to the priest. At the end, an equinox dance followed, with the members of the congregation.

The Christmas-table was set after the Midnight Mass, decorated with a consecrated candle in the center of a bunch of wheat shoots grown from seeds planted on St. Lucy’s Day (December 13). The table was covered with three tablecloths woven and decorated during the weeks of the Advent, and wheat straw was spread under the table, which can be interpreted as a symbol of Jesus and the Sun.

The family sat around this home altar, the Christmas table, and the host sliced the apple "dipped into golden water" into as many pieces as there were sitting around the table. Sharing the apple symbolized not only the togetherness of the family but also the oneness with the Universe.

Fish, meats, sweets (including the indispensable beigli or bejgli), and fruits (apple and walnut) are served for the Christmas Eve dinner.

[merrymorningofmay]

*sees photos of a folk/vintage dress that slaps so so hard* sigh it's hungarian isn't it *scrolls down to see it's indeed hungarian* darn it

[vero-niche]

Your tarjáni busz example reminded me of this guy i keep seeing on the bus i take biweekly. I've been seeing this man for years. He dresses in full camo and wears a fedora with a feather stuck into it. Looks kinda like Petőfi.

One time i sat next to him and he was sketching Makó embroidery patterns in his sketchbook. Then he flipped through it and the whole thing was just hungarian folk art. Pages upon pages of just that.

Last time i remember seeing him he was talking loudly for the entire 1.5 hour long bus ride with a middle aged man about how kids should learn about foraging and traditions and spend more time in nature. It was like. you know how men with similar opinions get stuck in a perpetual loop of agreeing with everything the other says and further explaining the same thing before being validated back? It was that. For an hour and a half.

....And then at the end of the ride right before getting off they shook hands and introduced themselves

vhdztsisgshddhdzzsusts hello????

love is real and you can find it in the strangers on the long distance bus rides <3