by Emily Farra
If you’re looking for a travel guide or culture story about Saudi Arabia, make sure the time stamp says 2018. In the past year alone, the country—widely considered one of the world’s most conservative, closed-off places—has transformed to the point where the information you’d find in a two- or three-year-old article is essentially useless. It wasn’t long ago that women couldn’t sit with men in cafés, travel without the permission of a male guardian, attend sporting events, or drive cars. Concerts and cinemas were forbidden (for everyone, not just women). And fashion shows, with young women strutting down a runway in high heels and potentially-revealing clothes? Totally out of the question. Which is all to say that last week’s Arab Fashion Week in Riyadh—the first of its kind—was nothing short of historic.
“From one month to the next, you can’t imagine the changes happening here,” Mashael Alrajhi, a Riyadh-based designer, told me. “I’ll travel for a week, and I come back and new things have opened, there are new opportunities, new rules—and most of them are good for women.” The first movie theater is opening this week, debuting with Black Panther, and the country will reportedly host more than 5,000 shows and concerts in 2018. Last Thursday, many women spent the first night of Arab Fashion Week attending a football game, and in June, women will be granted the right to drive. (For decades, the common fear among the ultra-conservative was that men would be distracted by women driving next to them on the road, while others claimed, incredulously, that driving hurt women’s ovaries.) All of the changes can be attributed to 32-year-old Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman bin Abdulaziz Al Saud—also known as MBS—who is considered the “power behind the throne” of his father, King Salman. The prince has outlined his goals for the kingdom in his Vision 2030 plan, which he admits is “ambitious.” It focuses on modernizing Saudi Arabian culture; moving the kingdom towards a more tolerant form of Islam; diversifying its economy away from oil; attracting new global investments; and supporting small local businesses. The Crown Prince writes: “We are not dependent solely on oil for our energy needs . . . Our real wealth lies in the ambition of our people and the potential of our younger generation.”
Spurred by the changes MBS has implemented, the Arab Fashion Council (which is based in Dubai, but recently opened an office in Riyadh) took the opportunity to plan Riyadh’s first Fashion Week, originally scheduled for March 25. After a few months of planning, CEO Jacob Abrian and executive president Princess Noura bint Faisal Al Saud sent the invitations in February, and editors, buyers, and models began booking their travel. But just a few days before we were set to depart, we received news that the shows had been postponed by two weeks, allegedly due to visa delays. The reshuffle meant several brands could no longer participate in Riyadh’s shows; Roberto Cavalli creative director Paul Surridge had planned to fly out for a trunk show, but couldn’t make the new dates work.
Even with an extra two weeks to finalize the plans—the new dates were April 11–14—there was a fair bit of chaos once we arrived in Riyadh. The AFC built a massive tent on the grounds of the Ritz-Carlton hotel, where everyone stayed, but on Wednesday, as editors and guests prepared for the first night of shows, rumors began circulating that the tent couldn’t withstand an oncoming sandstorm. Less than an hour before showtime, we received news that everything was being pushed back one day—which meant several guests only saw one or two days’ worth of shows instead of three.
Poor communication from the AFC left many designers and editors worried that there wouldn’t be any shows at all, but on Thursday evening, those fears were put to rest. We sat down in the (exceedingly large) tent to see collections by Tony Ward, who flew in from Lebanon; Bibisara by Asem Altynbekova, who is based in Kazakhstan; Arwa Al Banawi, who grew up in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, and now works in Dubai; Asory House by Rana Yousry, based in Egypt; Naja Saade, based in Lebanon; and Jean Paul Gaultier, who wasn’t in attendance, but shipped his Fall 2018 collection to Riyadh for the occasion. In between shows, advertisements for the new Harvey Nichols flagship in Riyadh played on giant screens, along with a BMW commercial with glamorous women in abayas and head scarves getting behind the wheel. (The car company is one of many flocking to Saudi Arabia to show its luxury sedans and SUVs to a brand-new fleet of drivers.)
Despite the women-only audience, there was a ban on social media to avoid leaked photographs of women without abayas—floor-length, usually-black robes—or head scarves. While there is no official law stating that women must wear abayas, it’s long been the unofficial uniform of Saudi women. (For men, it’s a white linen thobe, or long shirt, with white pants and a red keffiyeh scarf draped loosely on their heads.) With no men present, the women at the shows could wear whatever they liked, with most of them sticking to elegant, modest gowns and jumpsuits. Some didn’t bother taking their abayas off. As a first-time abaya-wearer, I can attest that it feels chic and relaxed, in some ways akin to the silky robes and duster coats we’ve seen on New York and Paris runways for a few seasons. “To me, the abaya is like what a kimono is in Japan. It’s just part of our culture,” designer Arwa Al Banawi told me. “Being in an Islamic country, we do need to respect our religion and dress conservatively, and a lot of women do love wearing the abaya. But it doesn’t have to be a black abaya—I’ve worn a silk coat before, and in Jeddah, you see women in bright colors and different silhouettes.”
In fact, in a recent 60 Minutes interview, the Crown Prince made headlines around the world when he said the abaya is no longer necessary. “The laws are very clear and stipulated in the laws of Shariah—that women wear decent, respectful clothing, like men,” he said. “This, however, does not particularly specify a black abaya or black head cover. The decision is entirely left for women to decide what type of decent and respectful attire she chooses to wear.” Perhaps that’s a long-sleeved, floor-length dress, which is just as covered-up. Or a pantsuit, or a tunic over trousers. “It’s just nice to have a choice,” Al Banawi said. “What’s empowerment without choices?” In fact, her collection didn’t include a single abaya; instead, she designed a long velvet tuxedo jacket, which had the look of a structured abaya, as well as silk shirtdresses inspired by men’s thobes.
Alrajhi’s collection, shown on Friday, was a deft mix of streetwear, couture embellishments, and traditional Saudi silhouettes. It didn’t include an abaya, either. Instead, she showed long, flowing pin-striped jackets spliced with ruffles or tulle, and in lieu of sky-high stilettos (the impractical shoe of choice for other designers), she styled every look with Nikes stamped with the Arabic word for leadership on the ankle. “People always ask me how I feel about the abaya, and I never complain, actually,” Alrajhi says. “I feel good in it. It feels really relaxed, and it’s a cultural thing—it’s not related to religion. It’s really just about layering, and what I think is good is that if I’m wearing the abaya, you only focus on my face—you aren’t distracted by my dress. Even for men, they wear all white, so you focus on what they’re saying,” she continues. “I compare it to yoga. It’s like a meditation for the mind.”
That’s the thinking behind plenty of other “uniforms” we know of: Steve Jobs and his black turtlenecks, Joan Didion’s White Album packing list, a fashion editor’s jeans and Céline sweaters. It’s all relative. But out of 16 shows, Al Banawi and Alrajhi’s shows were the only ones with real “daywear” to speak of. Eveningwear is a major fascination for women in Saudi Arabia; the country’s upper class attends a lot of black-tie parties and galas, though the concept felt a bit dated to the New Yorkers and Londoners in the crowd. A few Saudi and Lebanese women in attendance said they believed fashion would skew more casual in a few years, mirroring how the West has become more dressed-down. But with Ramadan coming up, many local women are shopping for a brand-new wardrobe of gowns and dresses for the slate of iftar dinners, parties, and other events. Al Banawi designs an entire collection just for Ramadan—it’s comparable to a New York designer’s Resort collection, or a special capsule for a retailer.
Of the dozen eveningwear lines, the Beirut-based Basil Soda stood out, particularly its clean, flowing gowns with tasteful embroidery and embellishments. The brand launched in 2000, so it has several years on younger designers like Aiisha Ramadan and SWAF by Alya Alsawwaf. Their collections had a few standout gowns, but others didn’t look quite as refined as Soda’s. Other designers, like Maison Alexandrine, Bibisara, and Gaultier, showed evening-appropriate twists on the traditional abaya: drapey, monastic silk gowns; velvet robes with sparkling embellishments; neon tulle wrapped artfully around the body. They weren’t unlike the gowns we’ve seen on Pierpaolo Piccioli’s Valentino runways in recent seasons, and maybe The Row’s, too. Women globally are favoring that long, lean look; there was some crossover between Eastern and Western tastes.
Despite a few communications flubs and multiple postponements, Riyadh’s first Fashion Week was a positive step forward—and could serve as a catalyst for other fashion, retail, and entertainment opportunities in the country. There was a palpable feeling of change in the air, and while there are still a few hurdles for women to clear—male guardianship laws are still in effect, for instance, as are gender-segregated gyms, pools, spas, and restaurants—things could be different in a matter of a few years (or less). The impression among the twentysomething men and women I met was that those are old-school, Old World ways of thinking; 30 years ago, the Internet didn’t exist, but now, it’s impossible to maintain such an insular society. Even from a strictly economic perspective, the country knows it needs to diversify its economy into additional sectors, as outlined in the Vision 2030 plan. With the U.S. shale oil revolution, Middle Eastern oil is not as in-demand as in years past—and in order to attract new investments and business opportunities, there will need to be some cultural changes, especially in regard to women’s rights and employment. As MBS wrote: “With over 50 percent of our university graduates being female, we will continue to develop their talents, invest in their productive capabilities and enable them to strengthen their future and contribute to the development of our society and economy.” (Women currently make up 22 percent of the workforce; another tenet of Vision 2030 is to increase this to 30 percent.)
Some of those changes will take time, but others are happening quickly. Several designers told me there’s already a more relaxed feeling in Riyadh, and just a few weeks after MBS’s 60 Minutes interview, women are starting to explore abaya alternatives. The country also opened up its tourist visas for the first time this month, and Saudis are excited about getting a lot more visitors. We’ll have to wait until the next Riyadh fashion week in October to see how that affects this changing society—and how the fashion evolves, too.