From ancient Roman stolas symbolising marital status to ‘60s mini skirts and Hillary Clinton’s pantsuits, women’s dress has long been a source of public debate. But nowhere has the subject of female dress been more policed and politicised than in the realm of Islamic womenswear. Take the burkini for example, which became an emblem of hysterical Islamophobia back in 2016 when it was banned from beaches in the French city of Cannes after its mayor dubbed the swimwear as a one-suit symbol of “Islamic extremism”. The ban later saw armed police forcing women to remove the swimwear on a French beach, and that same year, Europe’s top court ruled that headscarves could now be banned at work. This summer, meanwhile, a woman was fined after violating Denmark’s new law upholding the ban on the full-face veil in public. In each case, the common denominator is so-called ‘restrictive’ Islamic dress.
Considering that Muslim women’s dress is such a contentious issue, I — as a Muslim woman —was delighted to find out about the opening of a new exhibition, Contemporary Muslim Fashions at Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco that aims to reflect the multiplicities of Muslim women’s wardrobes the world over. Spanning streetwear to sportswear, this is the first exhibition of its kind to explore the heterogeneity of Muslim women’s dress code. While our community has long recognised just how diverse Muslim womenswear can be, Contemporary Muslim Fashions is a watershed in terms of bringing that recognition to the mainstream.
In addition, this exhibition is a cause for celebration as it arrives at a time when Muslim women are increasingly re-asserting their role in fashion after decades of misrepresentation – and underpresentation at that. Models Mariah Idrissi, Shahira Yusuf and Halima Aden have made their mark on the fashion industry (the latter even has a hijab clause written in her contract) — no mean feat when we’ve been absent from it for decades, compounded by a fraught post-9/11 climate. Meanwhile, London-based photography project Muslim Sisterhood, which champions Muslim womanhood, is testament to the multiplicities of Muslim women’s fashion. In one portrait, a subject is clad in a cobalt blue puffa jacket and big hoops, others sport streetwear and traditional dress.
When Muslim female identity has become synonymous with the burqa in recent years, it’s never been more pressing to spotlight and celebrate the breadth of Muslim womenswear. And Contemporary Muslim Fashions does exactly that: entire rooms are dedicated to local dress in Muslim-majority countries in the Middle East or looking at the impact of migration on Muslim dress code, without a dedicated burqa section in sight. Instead, highlights include Halima Aden’s navy two-piece burkini, worn during the swimsuit round of the Miss Minnesota pageant, or the Nike Pro Hijab that she wore in W Magazine. Examples such as this illustrate how the exhibition transcends the ‘East vs. West’ and ‘other’ narrative so often applied to Islam, and it finally feels like we’re being seen and heard on our own terms.
In spite of these successes, the exhibition’s inclusion of high-end labels left me feeling uneasy. In recent years, the fashion industry has catered to more Muslim consumers than ever before, framed within a narrative that designers are ‘finally’ recognising that we too can be fashionable. Consider Dolce & Gabbana debuting its inaugural collection of high-end hijabs and abayas back in 2016, resulting in the Italian fashion house being lauded as the first luxury label to cater to Muslim women. That same year, the Chanel store on Rodeo Drive’s window displays showcased ‘haute hijabs’. More recently, from Kate Spade to Michael Kors, the Spring ’19 catwalks were awash with hijabs. On top of this, the proliferation of Modest Fashion Weeks, from London to Abu Dhabi, see no signs of slowing down.
To what extent, however, is this apparent inclusivity exploitative if Muslim customers are integral to sales? The 2014-2015 State of the Global Islamic Economy report found that Muslims spent $266 billion on clothes in 2013 and this is set to increase by $484 billion by next year. When we’re otherwise targets of Islamophobia on both sides of the pond — don’t forget that anti-Muslim hate crime increased fivefold in London in the wake of the London Bridge terror attacks last year while the U.S. Muslim community has been likened to the ‘punching bag of the President’ — is Islam only acceptable when it can be monetised? Where modest fashion was previously connected to ‘creeping sharia law’, now that it’s been remodeled into a billion-dollar industry its considered an acceptable mainstay of magazine covers, countless catwalks, and even embraced by non-Muslim celebrities.
In light of this, it seems that this exhibition, too, has arrived at a time when the fashion industry has deemed Muslim women ‘worthy’. It’s hard to shake the sinking feeling that championing Muslim women’s fashion might be a passing trend, like how head-to-toe denim and barely-there brows once were. Are we only relevant so long as they can cash in on us, ultimately discarding us once we no longer serve our purpose? Unfortunately, being a seemingly never-ending fixture of the British right-wing press might be the only role we can expect to occupy long-term.
Despite my reservations and the obvious shortcomings of Contemporary Muslim Fashions, this exhibition has been a long time coming. When the hijab and burqa have become shorthand for female Muslim identity and the ‘other’ post 9/11, it’s high time that Muslim women’s dress be evaluated for its variety rather than its supposed restrictions and homogeneity. The West might finally be waking up to the diversity within our wardrobes, but sadly I wonder why it’s taken so long.
“Contemporary Muslim Fashions” runs through to 6 January 2019 at Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco.