The summer of Ukrainian blouses and a history of protest dressing
Across Ukraine, from politicians to front-line soldiers, people are taking pride in their vyshyvanka. They are in a long line of people using clothing as a form of protest
On 19 May, Olena Zelenska, First Lady of Ukraine, wrote an Instagram post marking Vyshyvanka Day, the annual celebration of the country’s national dress. The event, which takes place on the third Thursday of May every year, is dedicated to preserving Ukraine’s traditional embroidered clothing. This year, amid the continued Russian invasion, the day took on a renewed significance.
“Someone pulls [their vyshyvanka] out, miraculously surviving, from a closet in a ruined house. Someone is looking for theirs in another country, where the war drove them…Someone will wear theirs living under occupation…and someone else will wear it for the first time, because it was the first time they felt such a need,” wrote Zelenska.
People across Ukraine, from seasoned vyshyvanka collectors and politicians, to front line soldiers and President Zelensky, wore their cottons and linens this year, embroidered with exquisite motifs that span bold, expressive flowers and intricate repeating patterns.
The vyshyvanka celebration even crossed borders as people from around the world showed their support. Kristina Korniiuk, 34, who fled to Cambridge from her home in Kyiv, went as far as creating a giant embroidered shirt out of a bedsheet to “show the world how beautiful we are”.
Support for Ukraine via the medium of clothes has spread beyond the vyshyvanka. Blue and yellow, the colours of the nation’s flag, became the palette of choice for Fashion Week attendees and designers who wanted to communicate solidarity with the people of Ukraine. Blazers, bodysuits, blanket wraps, and even stud-toe wellies were suddenly imbued with meaning.
Meanwhile, a photo of a woman wearing a blue headscarf and a yellow leather jacket on the Moscow underground went viral. “Sometimes the act of resistance doesn’t have to be loud or bold, it just has to be”, a Twitter post sharing the image read.
Blue and yellow was also the inspiration for the Support Ukraine Collection by Ukraine-founded digital fashion brand DRESSX. The collection was launched just two days after the invasion to raise money for the Ministry of Defence, fashion designers affected by the conflict, and charities.
The campaign raised 200,000 UAH (around £5,400) within the first 12 hours. Beyond facilitating essential fundraising, it provided the building blocks for a global display of support and resistance.
Some may argue that a dress won’t do much to end an invasion, and yes, this alone can’t achieve peace. But clothing as a vehicle for protest and identity is a long-established practice, whether it’s a single black glove worn on an Olympic podium in 1968 or a red, white, and blue striped cockade worn by a French revolutionary.
In September 2021, Dr Bahar Jalali, founder of the first gender studies program in Afghanistan, posted a photo of herself on Twitter wearing a traditional Afghan dress. It was a response to strict dress codes introduced by the Taliban, following the fall of Kabul in August 2021, which required women to wear all-black garments and to cover their hands, face, and feet.
From there, the hashtag #DoNotTouchMyClothes spread across social media as women shared their rich, colourful traditional clothes as both a celebration of their culture and a protest against the Taliban’s control over women.
“As with most things, everyone has a different way of understanding, so I think [fashion] is effective for some people because it helps them learn about a story or a movement,” says fashion and homeware designer Tihara Smith. “It won’t work for everyone but it’s important to have different touchpoints.”
Smith’s own work takes reference from the Windrush generation and the stories her grandparents told her of coming to the UK. Woven raffia bags and wall hangings embroidered with Caribbean wildlife and botanicals take their inspiration from traditional straw crafts, while slogans such as “Nuff Love” and “You Called, We Came” in vibrant shades of pink, green, and yellow reference album covers from calypso and reggae artists.
“I think it’s important to help carry the story. Future generations can see [the clothing] and really understand it without having to read anything. It gives you an idea of the message, the history, and the materials,” Smith says.
Irish fashion designer Róisín Pierce also looks to her heritage to inform her delicate yet sculptural, all-white designs. Her signature techniques including smocking, Irish crochet, lace, and needlework, were all taught in the Magdalene Laundries – sites where extensive abuse and exploitation of women took place – across Ireland. “It is extremely beautiful work borne from great tragedy. There is a generational history, and it’s important that these skills are not forgotten,” Pierce says.
“I love that people learn more about Irish history from my work, especially the topic of the Magdalene Laundries,” Pierce continues. “The connection between Irish women and craft – its oppressive and liberating roles in their lives – is fascinating.
“My designs are heavily guided by socio-political concepts and historical references but it’s important to me that it doesn’t look like something taken directly from the past.” Inspiration from Pierce’s own happy childhood memories – “starburst shine and beautiful light” – injects a sense of playfulness too.
Like Pierce, the women of the Herero Tribe in Namibia, also use clothing to explore the space between past and present, oppression and expression. The women of the tribe dress in the Victorian silhouettes of the German colonisers who took the lives of nearly 80 per cent of their population in the early 1900s.
The tribe reference the style of dress of these European missionaries but also subvert it with bold colours, patchwork, sumptuous clashing textiles, and cow horn-shaped headpieces which symbolise their respect for cattle. In adopting, and adapting, the garb of their colonisers they remember their ancestors while redirecting their own cultural identity. Now, the dresses represent a rite of passage for Herero women.
The stories that underpin blouses, dresses, and gloves are often complex and heavy, and there’s no sidestepping that. Clothing alone can’t end wars or undo tragedies, but it does make space for joy, expression, and identity. When there’s a story to be told or a statement to make, the immediacy and impact of wearing it – embodying it – is hard to beat.
