Shanghai’s in That Mood Again

The qipao is to China what the kimono is to Japan and the kilt to Scotland. But until recently, the silky and slender symbol of national pride had nearly vanished from the Chinese wardrobe.

It took a movie about Hong Kong to revive its popularity in China, especially here in the city that gave birth to this fashion icon--known in the Hong Kong and the West as a cheongsam--during the Roaring ‘20s.

Since director Wong Kar-wai’s “In the Mood for Love” opened here in November, local dressmakers have been working overtime to meet the demands of filmgoers who want to look like the film’s star, Maggie Cheung. On screen, she wore only qipaos in more than 20 splendid colors, all with breathtakingly high collars.

The film, which opens in Los Angeles on Friday, is helping to rescue a fashion kept barely alive here by a handful of aging tailors. Trained as teenagers by the masters of the 1930s and ‘40s, they now are making these fabled dresses for the nostalgic women of new Shanghai.

“We’ve been doing this since we were 16. After we’re gone, there will be nobody like us,” said Rong Huagen, 72, who still draws lines in the fabric by plucking a chalked string like a violin. He and three buddies who came out of retirement are the backbone of Hanyi, a boutique on Shanghai’s Changle Road specializing in tailor-made qipaos.

Zhu Hongsheng, an 83-year-old widower, was on his feet about 12 hours a day to meet demand for qipaos during the recent holiday season. His expertise is taking measurements, the most important step in making this dress known for its body-hugging fit.

Then the fabric is sent to Rong’s friends, who cut and sew it. The three men live and work in a suburban area called Hollywood Park, where they also help train a couple of dozen employees. Across the street is farmland, and beyond that a false skyline of old Shanghai built by a local film studio.

Like living museum pieces, the old men add a touch of authenticity to the making of a garment that represents so much cultural change and contradiction.

For most of the 20th century, the qipao was virtually a national costume. Song Qingling, wife of the country’s founding father, Sun Yat-sun, wore it during the early part of the century as a symbol of Chinese pride.

The qipao, however, is derived from the loose-fitting robes worn by foreign rulers during the Manchu dynasty. The “qi” in the Mandarin word qipao, which is pronounced “chi,” refers to the Manchurians; “pao” means robe or dress.

It was cosmopolitan Shanghai that first adapted a slimmer fit, influenced by Western fashion sensibilities permeating the colonial city during the first half of the 20th century. From schoolgirls to showgirls and from society women to their servants, Chinese women adopted the qipao as everyday dress. The Communists, who came to power in 1949, labeled the garment decadent. The best dressmakers from Shanghai fled to Hong Kong. There they kept the fashion alive for a time.

The qipao became standard female attire until the 1960s. Following Western fashion, the local tailors raised the hem, even to above the knee, so that the “long” was long no longer. In the West, during the sexual revolution of the 1960s the style was deemed something oppressive, like the Victorian bodice.

In Western popular culture, the qipao became synonymous with the 1960 movie character Suzie Wong and the sexual objectification of women.

A retro movement brought it back into fashion in the West during the ‘90s, reinterpreted by influential designers from Christian Dior to Anna Sui, and mass-produced by trendy retailers such as Shanghai Tang in Hong Kong.

Chinese Americans kept the fashion alive at weddings and other special occasions.

Rehabilitation on the Chinese mainland followed with the nation’s open-door policy of the late 1980s. But there, the qipao fell victim to garish fabrics and tacky designs. The skills of many surviving old tailors had faded after decades of making mostly unisex Mao suits for men and women.

But “In the Mood for Love,” set in the 1960s about qipao-clad Hong Kong women, is restoring the gown’s popularity here. Back in the qipao’s heyday, dressmakers went through cultural shock of their own as they moved from humble rural origins to the big city. Muo Changhua, 71, said he could only afford to ride on the roof of a train on his first trip to Shanghai. He served for three years as houseboy for his master, cooking meals, baby-sitting and scrubbing floors. Most apprentices slept under the table and practiced sewing miles of scrap material before touching a dress.

“The old saying goes, ‘The needle may be light, but it takes every bone in the body to make it fly,’ ” said Jiang Chanxing, 66, the youngest of the friends working at Hollywood Park. “You had to practice sewing until your fingers would not sweat anymore, no matter how much you worked. Sweat stains the fabric. That is a no-no.”

None of the old masters passed the craft down to their children.

“In my whole life I’ve never recommended anyone to become a tailor,” said Zhu, the widower, whose son went to work at a chemical factory. “There’s no day off. When other people rest on holidays, you still have to work.”

And that makes him a godsend for busy city women in the mood for an old look that, tailor-made, starts at about $200.

Yang Yulan, 26, is a logistics manager at an information technology company and a regular customer of Zhu’s. She has been attracted to the qipao since she first saw the style in family photographs.

Her grandmother gave a qipao to Yang’s mother as a wedding dress. But her big day came during the 1966-76 Cultural Revolution, and the dress was hidden in a trunk, never to be worn. Yang is the first woman in her family in recent times to experience the gentle tugging of an old tailor.

To her it’s not just about following a trendy movie; it’s about feeling Shanghainese.

“There is nothing more Shanghai than an elegant qipao,” Yang said as she stood in her jeans while answering a cell phone during the fitting with Zhu. “When I put it on, I feel immediately different.”

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* IN LOVE WITH HONG KONG

“In the Mood for Love” is a valentine to Hong Kong. Sunday Calendar, page 28