My Marrakesh

Curious Fashion Week: and a tale of an embroidered cloak from Tajikistan

Today on Curious Fashion Week....an old, very old Tajik vintage cloak. 

Surely, you have several cloaks in your wardrobe.  They're so very romantic.  Perfect for horse drawn sleigh rides and wearing with fur muffs.  Or perhaps for attending the opera.  As you can see.......terribly versatile. 

And this one.......so very special.  Why every single square inch embroidered.  (Those crazy, amazing needle workers in Tajikistan.  No one's told them that there's medicine for that kind of obsessiveness.)

This cloak has no arms- it's meant for someone nestling it comfortably over the wearer's shoulders (perhaps while proposing marriage?).  Admire the ingenious system for holding the two large flaps on the back together.

No hair elastic/no mirror hairdo: twist, wrap, tuck ends under.  Time:  approximately 10 seconds.  Perfect for the interminably lazy or perpetually disorganized.  Cough.

Look at this embroidery.  Could it be any more beautiful? 

 

A view from the inside.  Handstitching. Ah, the days when things were made properly.

Simple from the front.  Hangs just right.  (Some darkened areas from wear.)

Fringe. Just in case you didn't feel lovely enough.........

In case you need an original Tajik cloak of your own, this piece is for sale.  Inquire at maryam [at] mtds [dot] com.

More on Curious Fashion Week..........later this week -- my very favorite piece of all......

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PS KInd courriers coming from the US desperately needed.  Pls drop me a line.

Curious Fashion Week: and a tale of Saudi cruisewear

Today on Curious Fashion Week, what I have dubbed Saudi cruisewear.  Private yacht en famille of course.

 

Simple styling, nautical coloring, and hardy construction.  Comfortable but covering.  Perfect for slipping over a swimsuit and continuing right onto lunch.

 

From Saudi Arabia.  All handstitched.  Approximately 75-90 years old (ahem, that would be the garment, not the model).

 

 

Hair: air dry. Umm...I couldn't find a comb.  Makeup: none (what are you crazy? It's 112 degrees in Marrakech.) 

 

Continuing with our nautical theme, rope fringe.  Note the hand embroidery – discreet luxury. Polished indigo panels.

 

Pompoms – so flirty.  (and useful in distracting people if you don’t have your sea legs yet)

 

Accessorize with heavy strands of white glass Malian trade beads (200-300 years old) as well as a strand of red rubber beads from Ghana (for a bit of fun).

 

Just a little close up for curious onlookers…(heard in the background:  did she really say “rubber?”).

 

Matching vintage Moroccan Boujad carpet – throw it on deck to complete the look.  Shimmery Moroccan leather sequined slippers – just slip off before diving into the refreshing blue waters. 

 

 

Feeling overwhelmed at the thought of the sea in land-locked Marrakech..... 

 

....so I've left en famille for bohemian surf camp in Southern Morocco (I've been growing my hair long and wearing beads just for the occasion.  Where is my peace sign sticker for the surfboard?).  And Curious Fashion Week will continue……………

Curious Fashion Week: and a tale of a Kyrgyz suzani coat

Oh, it's fashion week here on this little blog.  Yes, fashion week.  And lest you be thinking Prada and Jimmy Choo, well, think again.  Because, as you may have already gathered, my taste runs to the somewhat unusual........Cough.

Today's offering is a Kyrgyz embroidered ceremonial coat.  Extremely wearable for your next ceremony.  Shown with a vintage Moroccan tasseled belt.

Note the silky mane. 

Ah, fringe. Bohemians the world over rejoice. 

Such meticulous embroidery.

And a jingly fringe made out of metal.  (For joyful ceremonies only, obviously.)

Modeled by me, of course. (My silly husband wouldn't participate.)  Please note the avante garde Kyrgyz hairdo. (Ahem, just kidding.)

For sale.  Inquire at maryam [at] mtds [dot] com.

Khaled Al-Saai: a tale of a Syrian calligrapher

At a secret place where artists and writers gather, I had met him. 

He walked lightly.  He spoke softly.

 

I told him that I had always wanted to go to Damascus, his home.  That I admired the Syrian light fixtures, the intricate inlaid furniture.  He listened.  He was a good listener.

Later. The next day, or perhaps the day after that, he told me that his work was inspired by literature, by music, by nature.  He listed the Persian poets on his fingers, one by one.  He spoke of Sufism, of spirit, of what moved him.  I listened.  I wanted to listen more.

His pieces had been shown and collected all over the world. 

His eyes shined. His work shined.

 

 

 

 Beauty begets beauty.