From trendy long tunics to maxi dresses, polka-dot Hijabs (head covering) and abayas (Islamic gown), modest fashion has been gaining momentum over the recent years. Brands like Dolce & Gabbana and DKNY have released modest collections over the years, followed by high-end labels Mango, Tommy Hilfiger and many more. Ostensibly, mainstream fashion has embraced the […]
Turning my clothes inside out and travelling from one side of London to the other — Fashion Revolution Day has arrived. Selfies on instagram and tweets of our clothing (#Insideout) have taken over all across the world. Bangladesh, China, Swaziland and Brazil are just a few of the countries partaking in the day of activism tabbed under a day for Revolution. Generations of consumers are asking ‘Who made our clothes?’ — re-connecting the thread all of our clothes travel, by re-engaging us with are garments and the labels that sit on their backs.
I remember two years ago today when news emerged of the deadly collapse of Rana Plaza, a collapse which drew the world’s attention reminding us that there are real people behind our clothing, real people with real families, who all felt their loss.
The grounds upon which the eight story commercial building collapsed were swampy and the cracks on its walls were large. Garment workers were forced to go back to work knowing that this building was unsafe. But this is the world of garment workers, the result of greed, corruption, injustice and rampant consumerism and to those working in the industry, the collapse wasn’t a surprise.
Late last month reports emerged regarding a woman in Paris forced to leave a theatre after the cast refused to perform in protest against her attire. She had a veil across her face.
The incident occurred weeks ago but was reported by local press at the end of October. Now, I’m not one to impose theatre wear, but for those who are, I didn’t realise attire had the ability to halt a performance. The woman concerned was forced to leave a theatre performance because of a thin piece of fabric and the offence it caused to performers on a stage.
With the sigh of relief that I experience that this wasn’t in Britain, I feel ashamed for any Franc aware of what happened, but then I also feel ashamed for the laws that allow and encourage such gestures to take place. I mean it’s not as though it was security — that may have been doing their job in enforcing a certain aspect of dodgy law — but a group of creatives’ seemingly present to please their audience. The niqab is illegal in France, I know this. But this racist, anti-Islamic, bigoted piece of legislation is what allows such abhorrent acts of intolerance to materialise.