#kaftan fabric

[africanprintmanufacturer]

Recently, African clothing has become very popular because of the bright colors, intricate designs, and deep significance of garments. From the elegant patterns of Ankara to the traditional styles of Dashiki, these pieces celebrate heritage with an edge of unique expression. Therefore, if you are interested in buying African clothing in bulk for resale, festivals, or personal use, you will need to know how to find reliable wholesale suppliers. In this blog post, we will guide you through all options on how to buy African clothing in bulk wholesale and some tips so that you don’t make uninformed choices.

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue April 15, 1966

On the roof of the Royal Pavilion in Brighton…Franco-American actress Leslie Caron in shorts, striped harem pajamas, a small white kaftan trimmed in green. By Fernando Sanchez for Warner. Pajamas, from Dacron and Avron. Coat, in Arnel and Du Pont nylon (Stehli fabric).

Sur le toit du Royal Pavilion de Brighton …L'actrice franco américaine Leslie Caron en short, pyjama sarouel rayé, un petit caftan blanc gansé de vert. Par Fernando Sanchez pour Warner. Pyjamas, de Dacron et Avron. Manteau, en nylon Arnel et Du Pont (tissu de Stehli).

Photo Henry Clarke

vogue archive

[asoiaf-bambii]

𝔇ornish 𝔅ride

summary: Prince Jacaerys is sent to Dorne to secure their support in exchange for a marriage alliance during the dance of the dragons.

paring: jacaerys velaryon x martell!reader

Jacaerys Velaryon squinted into the sunlight, the wind whipping at his dark brown hair as he flew high above the scorched sands of the Dornish desert, riding his dragon Vermax. The sky over Dorne was cloudless, a vivid expanse of blue stretching from horizon to horizon, with the heat of the sun baking the land below.

The journey to Sunspear had been swift by dragon, much faster than any raven could carry the messages of war. Queen Rhaenyra needed allies desperately, and Dorne—with its vast army and formidable independence—was a prize she could not afford to overlook.

His thoughts were heavy as Vermax descended towards the palace of Sunspear, nestled in the heart of Dorne. The Martells were proud, notoriously independent from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. But Dorne was also practical, and the offer of a marriage to a royal of Targaryen blood might sway them. Jacaerys had never been one to shy away from his duties, but the weight of this mission pressed on him. It was not just about war—it was about securing the future of his family.

The landing was gentle as Vermax touched down in the gardens of Sunspear, the dragon’s large claws sinking into the sandy soil. Jacaerys dismounted with a swift motion, his boots hitting the ground as he glanced around, taking in the surroundings. The gardens were lush, a stark contrast to the barren sands beyond. Palm trees swayed in the breeze, their long leaves casting dappled shadows on the ground, while bright flowers bloomed in vibrant reds, oranges, and purples. It was a place of beauty, but the underlying tension of the political situation was not lost on him.

He stood tall, adjusting the strap of his sword as he waited. He could hear the distant sound of horses approaching, their hooves beating a steady rhythm on the stone paths leading to the palace. Jacaerys knew that this moment, the negotiations he was about to undertake, could shift the balance of power in the war. The Greens had secured their own alliances through marriage, and if the Dornish armies joined Rhaenyra’s cause, it could be enough to turn the tide.

Soon enough, the riders appeared. At the head of the group was Lord Qoren Martell, the ruler of Dorne, a tall and imposing figure with olive skin and a serious expression. His presence was commanding, but it was the figure beside him that captured Jacaerys’ attention.

The woman riding at Prince Qoren’s side was striking, her beauty impossible to ignore. Her dark eyes gleamed with intelligence, and her long, thick black hair fell in soft ringlets around her face. She wore a deep red entari, the luxurious fabric adorned with gold embroidery that glittered in the sunlight. Over the gown, she wore a flowing kaftan, cinched at the waist with a golden belt that highlighted her graceful figure. Her skin was warm, bronzed by the Dornish sun, and her jewellery—rings, bracelets, and a necklace set with emeralds—caught the light as she moved.

This had to be Princess Y/N Martell.

Jacaerys had heard of her—fiery, intelligent, and politically astute, Y/N was said to be a woman who knew her own worth and was unafraid to wield power. As she dismounted with a fluid grace, handing the reins of her horse to one of the guards, Jacaerys found himself watching her with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

“Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,” Prince Qoren greeted him, his voice deep and measured as he stepped forward. “Welcome to Sunspear.”

Jacaerys inclined his head in a respectful nod. “Lord Qoren. I thank you for your hospitality.”

Qoren’s eyes flickered towards Vermax, who stood behind Jacaerys, the dragon’s golden-green eyes watching the exchange with eerie calm. “A dragon is a rare sight in Dorne,” Qoren remarked. “But I trust you did not come here simply to display your power, Prince Jacaerys.”

Jacaerys met the man’s gaze evenly. “I come on behalf of my mother, Queen Rhaenyra. The war has already begun, and we seek the aid of Dorne. In return, my mother offers an alliance bound through marriage.”

There was a brief pause as Qoren considered this, his expression unreadable. “Marriage,” he repeated, his tone neutral.

At his side, Princess Y/N stepped forward, her dark eyes studying Jacaerys with open curiosity. “And who, pray tell, is to be offered in this alliance?” Her voice was smooth, laced with amusement, as though the entire concept of marriage negotiations was a game to her.

Jacaerys turned his attention to her, meeting her gaze directly. “That is to be decided. I stand ready to marry, as do my younger brothers. The decision would rest with your family, should you choose to align with us.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a slow smile, the kind that hinted at hidden thoughts. “And what do you know of Dornish women, Prince Jacaerys?” she asked, her tone almost playful. “Do you truly believe one of us would be content to marry simply for the sake of war?”

Jacaerys raised an eyebrow, surprised by her forwardness. “I do not presume to know the minds of Dornish women, Princess,” he replied. “But I do know that the realm faces dark days. A union between our houses could bring strength to both.”

Her eyes gleamed with something close to approval. “You are bold, Prince. I admire that.”

Prince Qoren, however, was less easily impressed. “Dorne has never bent the knee to the Iron Throne,” he said, his voice firm. “We fought for our independence and will not give it up easily, even for a marriage.”

Jacaerys stood his ground. “I do not ask for your submission, my lord. Only your support. Dorne’s armies are formidable, and together, we could end this war swiftly. My mother’s rule would be secure, and Dorne’s influence in the realm would grow.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the rustling of the palm trees and the distant calls of birds. Jacaerys could feel the weight of their decision pressing down on him, but he remained calm, knowing that this was a battle of words and wills.

Finally, it was Y/N who spoke. “You offer much, Prince Jacaerys,” she said, her voice soft but clear. “But Dorne does not act without thought. We will consider your offer… and perhaps, in time, we may find that a marriage between us is not so unfavourable.”

Her words were careful, but there was a spark of interest in her eyes that Jacaerys did not miss. He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, a silent agreement that there was much more to discuss.

Prince Qoren nodded as well, though his expression remained guarded. “Come,” he said, turning towards the palace. “We will discuss these matters further. It is not a decision to be made lightly.”

As they walked through the shaded pathways of the garden towards the palace, Y/N fell into step beside Jacaerys. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her lips curving into a slight smile.

“You’ve impressed my father,” she murmured, her tone laced with amusement. “That is not an easy feat.”

Jacaerys glanced at her, his own smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “And what of you, Princess? Have I impressed you?”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Perhaps,” she replied, her dark eyes gleaming. “But I am not so easily swayed by titles and dragons, Prince Jacaerys.”

He met her gaze, intrigued by the challenge in her words. “Then what does sway you, Princess?”

Her smile widened, full of mystery and flirtation. “That, Your Grace, is something you will have to discover for yourself.”

Jacaerys chuckled, though he could feel the weight of her words settle over him. Princess Y/N was not a woman to be taken lightly. She was clever, sharp-tongued, and fiercely independent—qualities that both intrigued and unsettled him. But he knew that securing Dorne’s support was not simply about marriage or politics. It was about earning the respect of a people who had never bent the knee and about understanding the woman who now stood before him as a potential ally, and perhaps more.

As they entered the cool stone corridors of Sunspear, Jacaerys knew that the negotiations were far from over. There was much to be discussed, much to be decided. But as he glanced at Y/N, her dark eyes filled with intelligence and fire, he realised that his journey to Dorne would be far more complex—and far more important—than he had first imagined.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he was not only forging an alliance for his mother but also discovering a path that could shape his own future.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Fashion History

to try to include in your poem/story (pt. 2/3)

Exomis - a short, asymmetrical wrap garment pinned at the left shoulder, worn by men in Ancient Greece

Eye of Horus - or Wedjat eye, is an ancient Egyptian symbol that represents the eye of the falcon-headed god Horus and symbolizes healing and regeneration and was often worn for protection

Faience - a man-made ceramic material that was often used in ancient Egypt to make jewelry and devotional objects; it is usually a blue color

Falling Band - a flat and broad white collar often with lace on the edges, worn by men and women in the 17th century

Fibula - served as a pin to both hold garments together and to show status of those with prestige or power within society; was popular in Greek culture

Fichu - a triangular shawl, usually worn by women, draped over the shoulders and crossed or fastened in the front

Fontange - a linen cap with layers of lace and ribbon, worn flat and pinned to the back of the head

French Hood - a rounded headdress for women that was popular in the 16th century (from 1540)

Frock Coat - a collared man’s coat worn through the eighteenth to the twentieth century; rose to prominence mainly in the nineteenth century, especially Victorian England; characterized as a knee-length overcoat, buttoned down to the waist, that drapes over the lower half of the body like a skirt

Frogging - ornamental braid or cording that can function as a garment closure, or be solely decorative

Gabled Hood - a woman’s headdress that is wired to create a point at the top of the head and has fabric that drapes from the back of the head

Gigot Sleeve - a sleeve that was full at the shoulder and became tightly fitted to the wrist; also called leg-of-mutton sleeve

Guipure Lace - a type of continuous bobbin lace made without a mesh ground; its motifs are connected by bridges or plaits

Himation - a rectangular cloak wrapped around the body and thrown over the left shoulder worn by the ancient Greeks

Huipilli/Huipil - a woven rectangular shirt worn by women in Central America beginning in ancient times

Jerkin - a close-fitting men’s jacket, often worn for warmth, sometimes without sleeves; worn over a doublet in the 16th and 17th centuries

Justaucorps - a long-sleeved, knee-length coat worn by men after 1666 and throughout the 18th century

Kaftan - (also caftan) is an ancient garment, which originated in ancient Persia but then spread across Central and Western Asia; a kind of robe or tunic that was worn by both men and women

Katazome (stencil printing) - a traditional Japanese method for printing designs onto fabric using a stencil and paste-resist dyes

Kaunakes - one of the earliest forms of clothing; made from goat or sheep’s wool and meant to be worn around the waist like a skirt, it is recognizable by its fringe detailing

Kente - a Ghanaian strip woven textile that has striped patterns and bright colors with corresponding meanings

Knickerbockers - or “knickers” are full or baggy trousers gathered at the knee or just below and usually fastened with either a button or buckle; were initially worn by men in the late 19th century and gradually became part of women’s fashion; the garment was usually worn as sportswear and became especially popular among golfers and female cyclists, hence the term “pedal pushers”

Kohl - a black material made out of minerals such as galena and used for eyeliner and eye protection in ancient Egypt

Labret - a type of lip-piercing worn by various cultures to indicate wealth, prosperity and beauty

Love Lock - a lock of hair from the nape of the neck hanging over the chest to show romantic attachment; it was a popular hairstyle between 1590-1650

Lurex - a shiny synthetic fiber made of aluminum-coated plastic with a glittering metallic sheen

Mantua - a jacket-like bodice with pulled back overskirt that bustled in the back, often in elaborately patterned fabric, first worn in the 17th century

Medici Collar - a collar that stands upright on the back of the neck and opens in the front; this type of ruff was introduced to France by Marie de’ Medici in the 16th century, taking her name two centuries later

Moccasins - a type of soft animal skin shoe that were worn by Indians in North America

Muff - a tubular padded covering of fur or fabric, into which both hands are placed for warmth

Mule - a backless shoe

Muslin - a simple plain-weave textile made out of cotton and available in varying weights and finishes; historically, there were also varieties of muslin in silk and wool

Needle Lace -often known as “needlepoint lace”; is a term referring to the technique in which the lace is made of entirely needle work; it developed in the 15th century and then became very popular throughout the 16th century

Nemes Headdress - starched, striped linen headdress that draped on the shoulders and had a tail at center back worn only by royals in ancient Egypt

Panes/Paning - a method of decoration using long parallel strips of fabric arranged to reveal a contrasting fabric underneath that was fashionable from the 15th-17th centuries

Panniers - an under-structure used in eighteenth-century fashion that created a shape wide at the sides and flat at the front and back

Pantalettes - (also referred to as pantaloons) are loose, pants-like undergarments that covered women’s lower halves in the late 18th and early 19th century

Particolored - the combination of different colors within the same garment along the vertical axis

Passementerie - an additional accent or embellishment in silk or metallic threads, such as an embroidered braid, tassel or fringe

Pattens - wooden-soled platform over-shoes, which were commonly worn from the 14th century to the 18th century

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Fashion History ⚜ Word Lists

[demigoddessqueens]

Hello! Can I ask how the Vox Machina would react to a female muslim reader who wears the hijab? Even her as their S/O if you feel comfortable. English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes. I love your writing!

Oh of course! 😄

a/n - I myself am not Muslim nor wear the hijab so I am open to any and all feedback

Masterlist 12

So for starters, I can see you hailing from the areas of Marquet and/or Ank’harel. Exandria is vast and diverse in its cultures, and they are not one to judge for differences.

Given most of their vices, you become a better influence for the group. Seeing you take time not to indulge so much rubs off more than they would admit.

Even when the worst of your most vicious enemies are rid of, seeing you perform dua does strike at them, especially Percy. He wishes he could have met you during the worst years when he was away from Whitestone.

Will always go out of their way to accommodate to dietary needs for you, even going alcohol-free

Of course you always have to look your best darling! The most beautiful fabrics for your hijab and a kaftan

Vex hears you pray and it reminds her of the guiding light that was her mother. A reassuring she needs when self-doubt creeps. Vax hears and sees you and he feels safe, calm and accepting of his future with the Raven Queen. He’s glad there’s another he can share his sentiments and feelings with.

Pike and Keyleth have grappled with their doubts and insecurities with following the Everlight and the Aramente trials before but you’re a reminder to them they can take that time for themselves. Keeping to what they believe and follow will be there, but to live a life and enjoy what has always been in front of them.

Grog has his fair share of philosophical questions here and there, which he is glad you make the time to answer. It’s refreshing that someone listens to what he has to say.

At the rooms you each have at Whitestone, Percy caters to your tastes and decorates your rooms to your liking. Whatever it takes to remind you of home.

If you’re good at textiles and artwork, then calligraphy has a soft spot in their armor and along their clothes designs .

Also, it becomes a rotation of each party member to come into your rooms to learn more of your language. It feels like an intrusion to hear you and your s/o speak privately to each other only in a dialect you both know.

Sometimes they’ll hear you singing, asking what those songs mean and if you could teach them. Mostly Scanlan just likes to pretend he’s learning because it’s an excuse to hear you sing, giving him courage to come to terms with his daughter.

And of course, the affectionate nicknames for each other! Say habibi and they turn redder than a tomato

Your relationship and dynamics can pretty much be summed up in the words of Nizar Qabbani:

Not everything in the heart can be said, so God created sighs, tears, long sleep, cold smile and shivering hands.

I throw my passport in the sea, And name you my country, I throw all of my dictionaries in the fire, and name you my language

[pre-raphaelitepunk]

Chemise -> Medieval Nubian Kaftan? Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Okay so final product(ish)!

I ended up not adding the tucks because I just didn't have time to do it the way I want to before the party: carefully ironing and pinning each tuck and matching the sleeves. There was too much cooking and setup to do and the wrap helped pull the hem off the ground just enough for the night (not enough though). Either way I loved the end product and the medieval faire Christmas party was quite fun!

Because this is going to be my Christmas dress as well, I am going to overdye it red and see how it fits after it dries, I expect 5-8% shrinkage based on the linen and cotton. If it still needs tucks then, I will add them.

Also, I *will* be revisiting this project with a few changes to better represent the garments in the Faras paintings.

I need a different pattern to match the neckline. Though the paintings are very faded, we can see that the neckline is more crew/jewel than the open square neckline of the Italian chemise tutorial I followed.

I want to try cuffed balloon sleeves like the image on the right

The wraps don't look to be long rectangles but come to an angle on the ends. I will do more research and experimentation there.

The most important aspect is fabrication: fabrics with both body and drape would accomplish the silhouette in the images better. I'm thinking cotton-silk, linen-silk or linen-rayon blends. The most affordable options are probably rayon damasks.

[msbarrows]

Dec 27 - Deboned the ham I baked for Christmas and made a vat of stock from the bone and scraps. I have a platter in the fridge with vast amounts of spiral-cut ham to divide up and freeze and find uses for.

Also, with the Canada Strike over, a package that I'd ordered all the way back in early November finally arrived. I'd ordered a couple more kaftans made of recycled vintage saris, from an Etsy shop in India that does free delivery by regular post, and around the time I was starting to think 'those should arrive soon-ish' (it takes a while), the strike started and added roughly a month to their shipping time.

I won't be wearing them much before the weather warms up anyway, since they're kind of lightweight for winter, but I love how pretty they are:

I now have one of each length of kaftan the shop sells, and think I like the midi length the most, since it goes all the way down to mid-thigh on me (methinks I need to alter my maxi length one to the same length). I find the short kaftan is a couple of inches too short for my height; still wearable, I just prefer stuff that runs a bit longer. Though I do love the sari fabric used for that one; it's a dark blue with blue-black leaf or plume patterns, with the leaves edged with a stroke of metallic gold. It's just so pretty. The other one is also attractive, it's all watercolour-ish blended streaky blue-green-beige with touches of purplish-pink and a bamboo leaves print.

I am almost certainly going to order more midi-length kaftans later in the new year, it'll be nice to have some pretty clothing for wearing this summer instead of just the plain men's tshirts that are my current mainstay (men's because I can find tall sizes easily in men's clothing, unlike in women's clothing where it's near-impossible to find, much less in larger sizes).

For supper I made fish stick and oven fries.

[stardust-swan]

The Female Followers of Lalla Malika (Daughters of Malika/Bnat Malika) 💜

🪷 They are known for their strong will. They have high standards and are not easily swayed by superficial attractions. Not just any man can win them over.

🪷 Men are very drawn to them - especially married ones. Men want to fight over them, and even if she gets married she remains beloved by men.

🪷 Men spend money on them without being asked. Not just small things, but even big ticket gifts like cars and houses. Their friends may also buy presents for them and their children unprompted.

🪷 They are known to be very elegant. Their manner of speech is graceful, their manners are perfect, and they look their best at all times. They prefer high-end fashion, live in well-decorated homes with luxurious furniture, and exude class and grace, seeming like nobility or queens.

🪷 They command respect, but are not seen as stuffy or severe. They have a playful, light-hearted spirit, and bring laughter and joy wherever they go.

🪷 They are extremely dedicated to beauty and self care. One description I read says:

They are preoccupied only with themselves — their hammam, creams, perfumes, beauty routines, and stylish living spaces. They wear the finest clothes, high-quality fabrics, and gold jewelry.

🪷 Regularly taking time to focus on beauty is a must for Daughters of Malika. Creams, perfumes, cosmetics, fine clothes and henna are commonly used by them. Baths and cleanliness are very important to them.

🪷 They invest large amounts of money into beauty, having a strong affinity for gold and luxury perfumes.

🪷 Like their Queen, they have a special relationship with perfume. Unlike most people, who just spray perfume and it smells normal, perfume on daughters of Malika carries an air of mystique and presence. Her followers are known for leaving behind a pleasant scent trail wherever they go; their scent lingers in the air long after they've left a room, and can even fill the street behind them. One small spray is potent on daughters of Malika. They wear perfume daily, not just on special occasions.

🪷 They are known for their cleanliness. They would never dream of going to bed sweaty, or leaving their house in a mess.

🪷 They are always well dressed, whether in casual situations or at formal events in Malika's honour. Their outfits often incorporate the colour purple somewhere. They are often seen in silk kaftans, high heels, and gold jewellery, but even in casual outfits they look put together, wearing clothes made from high quality fabrics. Their hair will be styled, nails will be done, and makeup will be immaculate.

🪷 Younger girls possessed by Malika wear light violet (resembling cherries), while adult women wear dark violet, symbolizing the maturity and dignity of the "queen of queens" (Malika dyal Muluk, also called Malika Zhawaniya).

🪷 Even as girls, they show signs that they have Malika. From a young age, they are addicted to showers, makeup, perfumes and going out. Even if they don't own any makeup or fancy clothes due to being too young, when they open their wardrobes, they long for them.

🪷 Many of them wear a ring with a purple stone, as in mythology Malika wears a gold ring with a purple stone.

🪷 Their prayer rugs, Qur'ans, and prayer beads will be in purple.

🪷 Women who embody Malika's spirit are said to often have large, expressive eyes, are spoiled, and possess very dark features.

🪷 They are social butterflies, and easily make friends. They are famous for their regal demeanour, and for their energy, joy, social skills, and laughter. Their mere presence can light up the atmosphere, filling it with joy and laughter. They naturally attract admiration, attention and love from the people surrounding them (but sometimes they attract jealousy too). This kind of charm is a divine blessing, not something that can be faked or bought.

🪷 They have great success in jobs like hairdressing and makeup. They naturally attract attention so if they do things like singing and acting, they'll become famous.

🪷 They bring their divine blessing wherever they go, filling any place they enter with joy, blessings, vitality, abundance and luck.

🪷 Although they are humble, some people mistake them as being arrogant. They have a sense of pride and self-assurance. They know their worth and refuse to settle for mediocrity in their lives, relationships, or possessions. Their self-confidence is sometimes seen as charmingly arrogant, but it comes from a place or self-awareness and dignity. They are also known for their independence.

🪷 They dislike the noise of young boys.

🪷 Although generally her followers live more conventional lifestyles like most of the population, Malika is known to be very accepting of those with lifestyles/identities that are outside of the norm in Morocco, like Jews, sex workers, unmarried women, modern women who like partying and wearing revealing clothing, eccentric women, and gays and bisexuals, so you are more likely to find those demographics among her devotees.

🪷 They are extremely diverse. Some are upper class, and some come from impoverished neighbourhoods. Their jobs include: housewives, retirees, hairdressers, office workers, students, sex workers, seers, ritual officiants, musicians, market workers, post offices, banks, schools, farms, or hammams. Their economic situations range from dependence on a husband or family for support, to financial independence achieved through hard work, to affluent lifestyles or marriages to wealthy men.

🪷 Depending on one's needs, Malika may adapt her attire and behaviour. A woman aspiring to be a scholar may perceive Malika in a form that aligns with intellectual pursuits. A woman wanting to marry may envision Malika in a dark violet bridal dress. For a woman seeking to enter sex work and attract clients, Malika might appear with instructions on attire, smoking habits, or other behaviors. A woman wishing to undertake a pilgrimage would never be advised by Malika to bring whiskey.

🪷 Women connected to Malika's spiritual presence attract gifts, wealth, and luxury naturally. People often offer them gifts, and they are especially known for receiving gifts of gold. They are used to receiving only the best. They are discreet; these gifts remain between them and the giver.

🪷 Their surroundings are always clean and well-decorated. They love luxurious decor and furniture, particularly Fassi-style saloons (luxurious, large Moroccan living rooms). Incense is never absent from these homes, and they love hosting lavish gatherings.

🪷 Some (although not all) followers of Lalla Malika also revere Lalla Mira, who has a similar personality to Malika but presides over different areas.

🪷 Women consider themselves to have a special relationship with Lalla Malika, although she has male followers as well. In some places, like Meknes, her devotees are mainly female, and certain songs and rituals may only be performed by women.

[dasha1l1]

I love to see videos of this russian? slavic girl on ig who wears layers of kaftans, harem pants and a fabric belt every day...

[magnificentlyreused]

This green cloak very briefly appears on Gracia Mendes Nasi in the twenty-eighth episode of the fourth season of Magnificent Century.

It was very likely altered and worn again by Hümaşah Sultan in the eighteenth episode of the first season of Magnificent Century: Kösem since the fabric is the same color and has the same general cut. Furthermore, the kaftan worn underneath is another altered piece previously used on Magnificent Century.

[africanprintmanufacturer]

Africa is a vast country fulfillment with colors, cultures, and traditions , including fashion from the stunning garments and they used lightweight fabric patterns. In this post, we’ll explore traditional and contemporary materials that not only define style but also resonate with history and identity across the continent.

[tahyal]

How's the E-book going?☺️

🙈🙈🙈🙈

I honestly haven’t been focusing on it at all 🙉😂, there’s a project im working on for my business and its been taking all of my attention. I’ll get back to the e-book as soon as I can!

(Btw the project in question is a collection of kaftan dress + Melhfa all printed in my art, on light crepe fabric🤍, they’ll be perfect for the summer, let me know if you’re interested and I’ll notify you when it launches 🫶🏽)

[magnificentcenturyfics]

Unremarkable People

Merry Christmas, lads and lassies! I've been writing fanfiction sporadically for the entire time this blog was in a state of hiatus, but the problem is, I never managed to FINISH any of it untill now, and even then, this one is pretty short. It's a plotless little thing meant to simply flesh out two background characters, basically just a pile of headcanons shaped like a fic. Very many thanks to Alex (@hurremsultanns) for inspiration! Trigger warning include, uh... I guess mentions of suicide, Hürrem hate and Hürrem fangirling. Enjoy!

Edit: God, this is so embarasing. I messed up the name of one of the characters and now some of y'all are probably thinking this fic is about Nazli and an OC - yeah, no, I just misremembered Esma's name as Selma, God knows how and God knows why I didn't realize my mistake untill I posted this thing. I am so, so sorry!

***

Over the years, Nazli had attended quite a few weddings, and on none of them the bride took her sweet time like on this one. True, knowing Esma, she probably just had an attack of stage fright in the baths; in fact, after a while, Nazli started to feel guilty for her initial annoyance. In fact, as the minutes dragged, she had to fight the feeling that she should, perhaps, go check in on dear colleague – despite knowing that doing so would go against Hürrem sultan’s explicit orders to go to the common room with the children and wait for their mistress there. And if nothing else, Esma’s designated helpers for the day were certainly in a better position to calm her down.

After all, it’s not like calming Esma down was that difficult of job.

Nazli did not consider herself a sentimental type, but it was hard not to get attached to Esma. Sultana’s children certainly had, which made it all the more impressive that Hürrem had graced her with manumition and a good husband, despite the protests of especially her daughter (whom Nazli hated an entirely disproportional amount considering she was only thirteen – then again, so did most of the other servants). Nazli was quite convinced that had His Majesty been present at the time, this wedding would not take place, but the girl’s mother was much more immune to the girl’s incessant whining. After all, though her sons were certainly sad to see Selma go, they had other servants to be fond of, and Selim and Bayezit relied on Mehmet’s judgement enough to in the end make peace with Selma’s departure. As of now, Nazli heard something about Mihrimah locking herself in her room in protest – then again, it’s not as if princess would’ve been missed on a wedding between servant and sipahi.

Where was Mehmet she did not know; her and Aysima’s charges were the younger boys, a task on which Firuze just somehow came to participate because of her attachement to the youngest. All around not the most unpleasant company to be in – Nazli harbored an instinctual antipathy towards Firuze, just because of how easily she was able to endear herself to everyone for seemingly no reason (she most certainly did not consider some potentially fraudulent sorcery an adequate reason, hence her coldness towards Firuze’s „successes“ in aleviating Cihangir’s pain). But she at least was mostly ignorable; Hürrem sultan didn’t have much use for her besides caring for her youngest anyhow, even if she still seemed infuriatingly fond of her.

Nazli’s thoughts were interrupted by a familiar call. „Attention! Her Majesty Hürrem sultan is coming!“ And indeed she came, gorgeous and impeccably dressed as usual, with her famous crown sitting proudly on her head and a few choice servants accompanying her. Right after her, the lucky bride entered the room, and Nazli had to compliment her helpers on a job well done. Esma looked quite fetching in a small red cap rimmed with a braid of fabric, dress of the same colour with open, semitransparent sleeves and kaftan with a tasteful little white embroidery. On her neck, Nazli noticed one of several wedding gifts Hürrem sultan gave her the night prior; then again, extreme generosity towards her servants was par for the course for the sultana. She was evidently nervous and not as happy as the occassion would warrant, though at least she didn’t seem to have cried, which was a good sign. She kissed the hem of sultana’s dress, and sultana spoke out, somewhat melancholically. „Go, hatun. Go, and be happy.“

Esma threw a last, quick glance to the side, to Nazli, Aysima, Firuze, Fatmanur, Muhsine and the others. There were no more words to exchange between them, no tears to shed. All the goodbyes were spoken as the music on her kina gecesi faded and dawn was breaking. „What will sultana’s children do without me?“ she told Nazli once she was no longer sobbing, but her eyes were still wet with tears. „You must promise me you’ll take special care of them and those that are supposed to replace me. I simply cannot trust anyone else.“

This shocked Nazli a bit. „Not even Firuze?“

„Certainly not as much as you! I mean... I don’t want to say anything, she is a very nice girl, very helpful... But she has only been here for a short while, and I’ve known you since forever...“

All Nazli could muster was an „Oh dear.“ and a tight hug. „Allah, I am going to miss you so badly. I am happy for you, but also mad that you are leaving me here with these idiots.“ she whispered in her ear.

Esma chuckled. „Oh, stop it. You like them and you know it.“

„Depends on who’s „them“, I guess.“ With these words, she let Esma go.

Esma sighed. „If you hate them so much... Well, sultana offered you a way out too.“

Nazli smirked. „She didn’t really mean it. Haven’t you seen how quickly she conceded to my begging? Besides, a way out of what? I’d only go from serving the greatest sultana the world has ever known – and, by proxy, His Majesty the sultan – to serving some fat merchant and perhaps a brood of his children, whether mine or his previous wife’s.“

Esma shrugged with one shoulder. „Well, my husband is not a fat merchant.“

„No, but Melek’s was. And Gülnihal’s... Well, he wasn’t fat, but he was damn old. I can’t imagine living with him was very pleasant.“

„At least he wasn’t long for this world.“ Esma said with a melancholic expression – and then she covered her mouth, shocked by her own words. „Oh, I am sorry, I...“

Nazli gave her a generous, but sardonic smile. „We’ve all been thinking it since we heard of his passing. And at least she has a new husband now – a much younger and prettier one, I’ve heard.“

Esma sighed. „I hope I can meet her again.“

„You think your husband will let you travel to Bursa?!“

She looked at Nazli with one of her patented sad gazes – why oh why must’ve Almighty given the girl such big, innocent eyes? Was it purely for dramatic appropriateness? „No, but... A girl can dream.“ She sighed. „I never got to thank her.“ Gülnihal was the one who recommended Esma to Hürrem sultan, and without her, the great sultana would certainly never take Esma into service, since before that, they didn’t get along much. Having been there at Gülnihal’s wedding, Nazli knew the only reason Esma never got to say her thank you, farewell or really much of anything was because of her own crippling shyness. But she managed to bite her tongue; this really was the time for teasing and bickering, however well-intentioned.

She never really understood what were women supposed to get from marriage, anyway. Perhaps if she could choose a husband, as she would back in Rohatyn, when she was just a daughter of a petty merchant... But as much as Nazli adored Hürrem sultan, after hearing what husband she picked Gülnihal, she did not trust her matchmaking skills. Well, she suspected that waiting a few years untill his young, beautiful wife tires the man’s poor old heart so much it gives out, then letting her enjoy the life of a rich widow had been the plan all along. And if Gülnihal was willing to stick it out for those couple of years, then good for her, but there was nothing Nazli hated more than the image of some ugly, sweaty man in her, on top of her, everywhere around her...

She could not stand such a thing even for a short period, was what she meant.

Of course, that was not a problem Esma would ever have to deal with. Hürrem sultan selected a husband for her favourite servant with special care, landing on one Hakan agha, a young sipahi with especially good looks and excellent reputation among the ladies of the city. Of course, Esma would not see that beautiful face very often, as even now he was discharged only for a short honeymoon, and was supposed to return to the Persian front right after that. In Nazli’s opinion, that didn’t sound so bad, being left to run one’s household as she pleases, but she had to admit, love – and unlike Nazli, Esma was a sentimental type, so it was likely that with such a husband, infatuation could set in very fast – changed the equation somewhat.

Either way, she could only pray for Esma’s happiness; after all, if there was anyone who deserved it, it was Esma.

---

If there was an occassion that Esma feared more than anything, it was dying for something not worth it. She felt quite fearless in face of chilbirth, as brining a child into the world was indeed a matter worth giving your life for. So far, she had born two boys, though the younger one left this world as quickly as he came to it. Dying of an illness, that too wasn’t that bad of a death, as Esma thought of such matters as simply God’s will, just as her late father did on his deathbed. No, a truly unbearable thought in Esma’s mind had always been dying just because one got tangled up in the powerplays of the harem. Then again, she supposed Nazli would’ve seen it differently.

Today, she did nothing but pray for her soul, because she suspected noone else will. News of her demise reached Esma via her regular correspondence with Gülnihal, who in turn stayed in touch the same way with none other than Hürrem sultan. Details of the incident that cost Esma’s old comrade her life were quite murky. According to Gülnihal’s telling of Hürrem’s words, sultana uncovered some letters, the content of which could’ve been used to drive a wedge between two sisters of sultan Süleyman now living in Istanbul. What this conflict was even about wasn’t entirely clear, but whatever the case, their response was entirely disproportionate – they chose Nazli as a scapegoat, tortured her into confessing that she forged the letters, and after she broke under torture, guilt of „betraying“ her mistress soon drove her to suicide. Well, at least that was Gülnihal’s telling; the implications were worse still, because Nazli was a woman of steel nerves and unwavering loyalty to Hürrem. Whenever Hürrem needed assistance in some sort of shady enterprise, she called on Nazli before anyone else. If they actually broke her, Esma could not even imagine the things she must’ve been put trough to achieve that. Even still, Hürrem herself wasn’t entirely certain her friend’s death was a suicide, as the only evidence she had was the testimony of Hatice sultan, who would’ve been a prime suspect had Nazli simply been silenced. And all that for the monumental sin of... Trying to drive a wedge between two sisters, which as child Esma and her three little sisters could attest was something that would under normal circumstances scarcely need more than a gentle push. Now, in Esma’s experience, it was entirely possible that Hürrem simply covered up details that made her look bad; perhaps she accused one of the sisters of some terrible crime? Well, maybe, though she also knew Hatice was becoming more and more vicious in her hatred of Hürrem, and according to Gülnihal, she only got worse since the passing of Ibrahim pasha. In sum, as much as Esma wanted to blame Hürrem for the tragedy, she simply did not have enough information.

Well, not that she came out of the whole affair completely innocent either way. Whatever the measure of their fault in Nazli’s death, Hürrem, Hatice and that other woman (what was her name, anyway?) all held some amount of culpability. And unfortunately, no matter what the truth of the matter was, the incident seemed tailor-made to only confirm Esma’s deepest prejudices about faithful servants and their foolishness. Because, though Esma wasn’t a traitor by nature, she had to admit to being somewhat cowardly, and if she ever found herself under the same pressure as Nazli, she was under no delusion about her ability to resist it.

Then again, such a thing was always quite unlikely – Esma’s main asset for surviving the harem had always been the façade of a pleasant, weak-willed girl, which like all the best façades held a kernel of truth, made to look like the whole of the ear. Indeed, when she first came to the harem, she was nothing more than a scared young girl, broken by the loss of her loving (though poor) family. After she adjusted to the conditions in the harem, she did try to stand up for herself a couple of times, but unless one was of some rank and status, such efforts generally weren’t appreciated. And for Esma, achieving rank and status seemed night-impossible. She certainly wouldn’t cut it as a concubine, both because of her comely dark features (to think she for a moment hoped that in the harem, where women were supposed to shed their tribe and homeland, she’d at least be able to stop being a Gypsy) and her fear of intimacy (which was quite ironic, since as of now sex and children were the only pleasures she was able to get from this marriage – what with her husband being, unfortunately, a quite unpleasant character). She had hoped to at least reach for the title of a kalfa trough her service to Hürrem sultan, which is why she first expressed interest in it to Gülnihal. Esma could still remember how her heart skipped a beat when Gülnihal said. „As of now, what Hürrem sultan needs the most is someone to take care of her child.“

Esma dropped her gaze in a gesture of half-sincere modesty. „Well, as it happens, I had seven younger siblings – three of them much younger than me, and our father died when I was only ten, so my mother needed all the help she could get. So I’d say I do have some experience with raising children. Also, I just... Love kids.“ She blurted out the last sentence quickly, only realizing how stupid it sounds as it was leaving her mouth.

At the moment, Gülnihal only shot her a confused look and changed the topic, but soon thereafter, Nigar gathered her and a few other girls to tell them they had been chosen for Hürrem sultan’s household. Esma was surprised to find out that said household consisted mostly of girls that spoke Rusyn, especially those that have been taken in the same raid on Rohatyn and the surrounding area as Esma, Hürrem and Gülnihal. Why it was so Esma wasn’t sure; as the years went by, Hürrem spoke Rusyn with them less and less, though she always seemed to have more trust in girls from her homeland than those from other parts of the world she hired as her household expanded. When it came to Esma herself, she always found said trust somewhat misplaced, as from the start she thought Hürrem moody, petulant and in general not a very admirable person. This was in contrast to Nazli, who seemed genuinely fascinated by Hürrem ever since she won the Thursday night from Mahidevran. „I am just saying – she must be doing something right, no?“

At that, Esma furrowed her brow in doubt. „And you want to copy her method or something?“

Nazli defiantly stuck out her lower lip. „Just so you know, I’d never dream of being a favourite! I mean, what are the chances sultan himself would even look at me, anyway?! Impossible! I’d be extraordinarily lucky to even have him send for me...“

„With your face? Certainly!“ laughed one of the girls they sat at the table with – she was named something long begining with Fer-, Esma didn’t remember her exactly, since she didn’t exactly seek out her company (Fersomething was always like that).

Years later, when the work has long since brought them together, Esma asked Nazli to elaborate on her feelings towards their mistress. Nazli only smiled dreamily. „Can’t you see it? She has such a... Fiery spirit. It is as if there was a star in her soul, shining brightly...“

Esma rolled her eyes. „She’s just a bit of a bitch, that’s all.“

„Oh, if only she could hear you! She’s proud, that’s what she is. Proud and defiant...“

„The kind of personality that you’d think would get her killed, and it very nearly did a couple of times...“

„And yet it didn’t! Not only that, but sultan loves her more and more each day. Of course, some of it must be because of how extraordinarily beautiful she is...“

Esma only shrugged. „Well, I guess that’s true. I mean, if you want to know my opinion, Mahidevran is even more beautiful, but I am not a man, let alone sultan, so...“

Despite that qualifier, Nazli looked at her as if she was about to punch Esma good and hard. However, she continued talking instead. „Hürrem sultan is also very clever.“

„Not clever enough to not get in trouble constantly!“

Nazli seemed unfazed by this comment. „As I’ve said, she’s proud and free-spirited. Cannot suffer mockery or some other kind of degradation from anyone.“

Esma only rolled her eyes once again. „Sure.“

This really seemed to send Nazli over the edge. „Listen, if you’ve served Hürrem sultan for so long and cannot see her virtues...“

„I can! I just don’t like her that much, you know? I mean, I spend most of the time with her children anyway...“

„And she’s a kind, caring mother too!“

„I mean, she’s not that bad of a mum, I’ll give her that, but I don’t think she’s especially caring or something considering how much time we have to spend with them.“

„At least she is smart enough to entrust them to you! You’re great with kids!“

Esma suddenly felt blood rushing to her face, unused as she was to compliments – especially from Nazli. This one completely silenced her, ending their conversation, and Esma never really asked about Hürrem’s appeal ever again.

Around the time of Bayezit’s birth, Nazli confessed to Esma to having an unspecified „daliance“ with a girl named Hanzade, and Esma later did see them sneaking off to the laundry room at an ungodly hour, though considering how diligent Nazli was in her duties, Esma couldn’t imagine this daliance must’ve been very intense. There were also rumors going around that Nazli might’ve recommended one of their colleagues, Aysima, to Hürrem solely because she was smitten by Aysima’s beauty – though this time, Nazli herself didn’t tell Esma anything, so who knows. Either way, over the years, Esma became convinced that Nazli has caught the occupational dissease, caused in many harem girls by living so far from the laws of man or God, steered solely by the wills of their masters and superiors: tribadism. Not that Esma judged her too much – she never understood the temptation, but then, before her early thirties, she was completely unfamiliar with sexual desire as a whole, and romance unfortunately evaded her to this day. In fact, she misliked even thinking of such matters, prefering to ignore them whenever possible, and since Nazli never expressed any interest towards her, Nazli’s little misdemeanors were very ignorable. That said, it was probably the best explanation Esma ever found for Nazli’s strangely intense admiration towards Hürrem sultan, though she held her friend in high enough esteem to take her explanations as also constituting part of the truth. Nazli did indeed find Hürrem worthy of genuine awe, it’s just that the character of this awe might’ve been tangled up with other feelings also.

It must be said that Esma knew plenty of other ladies, many of whom had a significantly less intimate knowledge of Hürrem as a person, whose adulation of Hürrem was just as unquestioning, especially once she achieved the impossible by marrying the sultan himself. Perhaps, she told herself at the end of her ruminations, Esma herself is the odd one for being unable to ignore Hürrem’s flaws, quirks and foibles. Perhaps acknowledging her extraordinary feats and nature is simply the done thing for most normal people.

At the same time... Why should this exceptional existence matter to average people like her and Nazli?

And was Nazli even all that unremarkable to begin with?

Or just unlucky to be born how she was born and placed where she was placed by the whims of fate?

 Esma wasn’t quite sure. All she knew was that she herself actually was unremarkable, and that was the way she wanted to be. The only traits she consciously developed were her ability to stay silent unless she truly needs to speak, as oposed to simply wanting to, and her love and understanding of children. Esma’s ambition to become a kalfa had always been somewhat limp, and as the years went by, it faded away completely as she became more and more thoroughly consumed by her love and devotion to Hürrem’s children. She still missed them terribly – Mehmet’s kind nature, Mihrimah’s keen mind and strong will, Selim’s diligence and hard work and Bayezit’s sweet, but shy demeanor. Nothing bothered her more than the thought of never knowing anything about what Cihangir will grow up to be like, perhaps besides the thought of Selim allegedly becoming more disobedient since her departure. She was only able to admit it after she left them behind, but despite her best efforts, she did find a favourite among them, specifically in little Selim.

Of course, Esma had another Selim she dedicated her life to now.

The boy had her eyes and face shape, though otherwise he inherited his father’s features and much lighter colouring. He was lively and sometimes mischievious, but she still loved him with the kind of intense, boundless love her otherwise somewhat cynical heart was able to only give to children. Though thinking of Nazli and the rest of her former colleagues, she had to admit to sometimes finding surprisingly strong bonds with adults also.

One day, when her Selim is old enough to understand it, he is doubtless going to be curious about the time his mother spent in service to the most famous sultana of all time. And when that time comes, she will take great care that the stories of her comrades will be told.

The world is a dark, cruel place, after all. A man, and a woman especially, need to take their humanity where they can get it. And while Nazli found it in servitude, Esma did so in a place that she herself found altogether more dignified.

Well, at least that was her humble opinion.

[fashionbooksmilano]

Silks for the Sultans

Ottoman Imperial garments from Topkapi Palace

Photos by Ahmet Ertuğ, Essay by Dr.Patrick L.Baker, Dr.Hülya Tezean, Jennifer Wearden

Ertuğ & Kocabıyık, 1996, 251 pages, 150 colour plates, 31x42cm,

euro 600,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

This superb oversized book is published by Ertuğ & Kocabiyik Publications, a publishing house established by leading architect and photographer Ahmet Ertuğ and Ahmet Kocabiyik. Their books are unique collector's items focusing on the cultural heritage of Anatolia. The magnificent images by Ahmet Ertuğ are accompanied by articles of world-renowned academics to reflect the inherent value of the masterpieces they contain. The garments shown and described in this book were chosen from about five thousand objects in the garments and accessories collections of Topkapı Palace Museum in İstanbul. In making this selection, emphasis was placed on the silk kaftans (robes) that were worn by the sultans with an eye on such criteria as color, design, and quality reflecting the rich cosmopolitan atmosphere that prevailed in the Ottoman court. The examples in this book are classified according to design categories within which they are generally presented in chronological order. This has the advantage of reflecting the stylistic developments that took place in the design-shops attached to the Ottoman court. The first category consists of fabrics with the "triple spot" motif and its variations. The second group presents two examples of garments in the "saz" style and in the third, of the "Floral style". These are followed by kaftans in "Seraser" fabrics. The next three groups are devoted to fabrics that are of European origin or were imported from India. The next two categories show items of dress made from plain fabrics, some with appliqué designs, other garments from the 18th and 19th centuries. The last group are not kaftans but talismanic shirts, included because the unusual calligraphic treatment of their designs provides an interesting coda to the magnificent and elegant garments that precede them.

24/01/24

[gabby-135]

Fashion trendsHardly any other world turns as quickly as the fashion merry-go-round. What is seen as poor taste today can be hot tomorrow - and vice versa. Trendsetters, fashion journalists, style gurus, stars, bloggers and designers worldwide show us what is in and what we better ought to stay away from. Peter Pan collar, ethnic look, animal prints or rather the little black dress? So that you don't lose track of where fashion is going, we'll search for international trends for you. The most important rule, however, is and remains this: Wear what you like!Getty Images, Getty Images for Kaftan CitraVelvet is here to stay – forever?!If the international fashion shows are anything to go by, that’s the way it looks – preferably all over. Velvet dresses, velvet skirts, velvet suits are all popular, and not just in classic colours such as black or navy, but in bright mustard and burgundy shades too. The fabric is soft, warm and comfortable and, with the right design, screams luxury and opulence, especially when the outfit is floor-length. XL-lengths are another current megatrend!Getty Images (2)Pretty in plaidChecks have become a fashion evergreen. True fashionistas dress in tartan (Scottish checks) or Vichy (gingham), preferably from head to toe. Gingham, a combination of white squares with black and often blue, red or pastel shades, has long been a favourite choice for a light, summer look. Now, alongside Scottish tartan (preferably red), it enjoys a wardrobe presence all year round.Getty Images (2)From black to metallicHave you heard the bold saying, “Wear black or stay naked”? It’s true! Black is a key element of current fashion trends. And so is grey! Both are colours that can individually be combined with statement pieces or worn with splashes of pop-out colour, as well as monochrome outfits using a range of patterns and textures. Grey always looks well-dressed, and a grey cashmere pullover creates a wonderfully casual elegance. Sparkling looks in silver and metallics are also right on trend, and they’re unbeatable when worn in combination with grey shades.AFP/Getty Images, Gamma-Rapho via Getty ImagesA weekend in the countrysideBritish country style is celebrating a comeback. With classic tweed suits and tartan patterns, long boots, leather buttons and cosy knitwear. Colour code: earthy tones in every shade, with cream, a little red and, of course, green. Essentially: laid-back, cool and natural.AFP/Getty Images (2)Patchwork as artThat’s truly brave: Silvery shimmering patches are combined with net fabric and knitted glitter wool to create an oversized pullover. Wildly patterned patches seem to have been thrown together at random, competing with one another. Colourful strings of pearls swing with every movement. Fake fur and enormous bows join the party too, when it comes to transforming otherwise simple dresses into outstanding and extravagant statement pieces.WireImage, Gamma-Rapho via Getty ImagesBusiness as usual?Certainly not! Trouser suits are all-rounders, making them our number one choice for the office and into the evening. They can be classic, or sometimes made of funky and colourful cord or velvet with a brave seventies look. Hands off anything that emphasises a tailored waist! That’s too stressed and what’s more, totally out. Boyfriend styles and the layered look are much more relaxed

[pre-raphaelitepunk]

Chemise -> Medieval Nubian Kaftan? Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Okay so, I went with option 4 (Gather the neckline and bind it, then separately gather the shoulders with elastic). I gathered the neckline, added elastic to the shoulders, and just tried the Kaftan on to see how much I need to gather the necklines down actually.

I think I'll gather both down to 15" and see where we go from here.

Also the kaftan is too long, though gathering up the neckline will help with that. If that's not enough, I'll add a few pintucks right above the ankara hem, because I don't want to take away from hem, and do the same with the sleeves.

After that it's onto the cutting and hemming the ankara wrap. I wish I had an approrpiate fabric with better drape as ankara is a medium-weight cotton with quite a a lot of crisp body, and the paintings show these robes, caftans, and wraps in rather drapey fabrics, but I will save that for when I revisit this project.

A reminder of our inspiration: