New-look abaya that blends faith, fashion — and function

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Traditional styles of abaya are giving way to new multifunctional outfits.. (Photo/Supplied)
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Traditional styles of abaya are giving way to new multifunctional outfits.. (Photo/Supplied)
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Traditional styles of abaya are giving way to new multifunctional outfits.. (Photo/Supplied)
Updated 26 July 2018
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New-look abaya that blends faith, fashion — and function

  • Saudi designers give traditional robes a makeover. The result? A stylish garment that fits today’s ‘woman-on-the-go’
  • The Abaya Factory offers their functional designs to all women-on-the-go, women who have a lot on their plate, and multitaskers

JEDDAH: Wearing an abaya — the loose-fitting, full-length robes that symbolize a woman’s religious faith — is part of  Saudi Arabian culture. 

But in a rapidly changing Kingdom, the traditional style of abaya is giving way to new experiments that meet both the garment’s religious purpose and the demands of 21st-century life.

Now Saudi branding stylist Zahar Al-Sayed and her artist fiance Ahmed Angawi have launched the Abaya Factory, which offers a multifunctional abaya that can be transformed into a jacket, changing the whole outfit effortlessly.

Al-Sayed holds a BA degree in graphic design and MA in graphic branding and identity from the London College of Communication.

The Saudi designer's husband Angaqi has come up with this new concept as an alternative solution for female travelers abroad who take off their abayas and tuck it in their bags. “Our abaya was a solution for people traveling from A to B without really thinking what outfit they have to change into,” Al-Sayed told Arab News.

Speaking of the inspiration behind the designs, she said that “real women inspire us. Women’s empowerment in general is one of our targets. We got our inspiration from women’s needs.”

The Abaya Factory offers their functional designs to all women-on-the-go, women who have a lot on their plate, and multitaskers. 

 

 

 

The designers focus on all the details in their brand to suit women from all sides — they tried to focus on linen and cotton as the main fabrics in designing abayas, to suit the hot weather in Saudi Arabia. 

The factory’s prices are affordable compared to the market, according to owner Al-Sayed, who said prices range “from SR800 ($213) to SR1,800 ($480). So, we think it’s affordable for what it is, and for what we offer.” 

As a Saudi designer, Al-Sayed said, working in the fashion industry is different today: “When we started out, there were a few people in the market and now I think it’s just very competitive. It’s a normal market and everyone (is) raising their game in branding.”

As fierce as the competition may seem, she appears optimistic about the Saudi fashion market: “They (designers) are actually taking care of all these details that add value to the brand itself, so I think everyone has a space in this market,” she said. 

“People are more exposed through social media, more aware of designing and they really appreciate the homegrown talents,” according to the designer .

The local brand’s owner wants women to feel confident, comfortable and proud when they wear their abayas.

The Abaya Factory has its own studio where people can buy its unique designs at the Homegrown Market in Jeddah or through the brand’s official website or WhatsApp service.

The designers’ next step is to develop their creations by adding more functions to their abayas. “Our future plan is to (have) showroom appointments (with customers) so people can come in and choose the fabrics, colors and create their own garments.”

Women have become more flexible in wearing their outfits. In 2007, Saudi designer Eman Joharjy designed an abaya that would freely allow her to practice cycling and was dubbed the “sporty abaya.”

Another concept was the driving abaya, which features a hoodie, tight elbows to prevent the sleeves from catching on the handlebars, and shorter lengths to make switching pedals easier.


Musical truth: Palestinian singer Maysa Daw blends the personal with the political

Updated 10 min 7 sec ago
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Musical truth: Palestinian singer Maysa Daw blends the personal with the political

  • Maysa Daw is a young Palestinian singer
  • A guitar-driven singer-songwriter, Daw is a bundle of indie energy

DUBAI: Maysa Daw is a hard person to pin down. The young Palestinian singer has been busy dashing from gig to gig, completing an album and preparing to participate in a musical collaboration called the Basel-Ramallah Project, which is due to take place in Switzerland on Oct. 6. When we meet, she is in Chicago, about to go on stage at Palipalooza.

“We’ve been working on our solo show and I’m trying to write a few new songs but time isn’t exactly on my side at the moment,” she said with a laugh. “But writing always comes in-between things, you know. I’m always having these new ideas and I write them down, or new melodies and I write them down. At some point I’ll just gather them together and a lot of things will come from there.”

A guitar-driven singer-songwriter, Daw is a bundle of indie energy. Her live performances are raw and honest, her music a primarily personal reaction to the world around her. As a Palestinian living inside the Green Line, this can sometimes mean a world of conflict and complication.

“I always write about what I’m experiencing, what I’m feeling, or the anger that I’m feeling,” said Daw, whose debut album “Between City Walls” was written while she was living in Jaffa.



“It was a very different world for me. I grew up in Haifa, which is a lot more chill, a lot more relaxed, and suddenly I move to Jaffa and study in Tel Aviv, and everything was so intense. Everything was so new. It produced a lot of stuff. Love songs, break-up songs — political songs, too.

“There’s also one of my favorite songs, “Crazy.” I was so frustrated when I started writing this song. I was thinking of so many things at the time and I just wrote everything down. It’s exactly the way I was feeling, the things that I was asking myself. It talks about religion, it talks about death, it talks about politics — it talks about a lot of things.”

“Between City Walls,” which was released in June last year, may be indie in its sensibilities but its eight songs embrace a variety of sounds, not all of which are musical. Alongside samples of classical Arabic songs and Spanish guitar there are bursts of radio static and live voice recordings of people in the West Bank. As such, reproducing the album on stage, with drummer Issa Khoury and bassist Shadi Awidat, has not been easy.

“We’ve been trying to put material for a five-piece band into a three-piece band,” said Daw. “As such, we’ve been using more electronics and it’s been a very interesting challenge for us. But it’s got us to a place that I’m definitely very happy with.”

Daw is very much a product of Haifa. Born into an artistic family — her father is the actor Salim Dau — she immersed herself in the city’s independent Arabic-music scene, performing at venues such as Kabareet and collaborating with Ministry of Dub-Key, a Galilean group that fuses the sounds of hip-hop and dancehall with traditional Palestinian dabke.

She also recently finished recording an album with Palestinian hip-hop group DAM, who she joined about five years ago. Due to be released early next year, the as-yet-untitled album is her first full-length collaboration with the group. Prior to this, Daw and DAM recorded two tracks together, including the feminism-infused “Who You Are.”

Although Daw’s work gravitates toward the personal, much of it also can be viewed as intrinsically political. The song “Come with Me,” for example, is about two lovers kept apart by the separation wall, while “Radio” features the voices of refugees living in the West Bank. In snippets of their conversations you can hear them talking about the wall, the effects it has on their lives and their desire to tear it down.

“I do talk about politics but only because it’s a big part of my life, whether I want it to be or not. And believe me, I don’t,” she said. “But it is a part of my life.

“I started loving music way before I even understood what politics is. I only wanted to make music but with time I understood more about the responsibility that I could accept to have.”

She paused and corrected herself: “Not exactly a responsibility but a sort of a privilege. I have this voice that I can use and it has the potential to reach a lot of people. It made me realize that I can use this to talk about things that many other people can’t talk about.”

Daw once said that despite the perceived mundanity of everyday events, “everything we do here as Arabs is connected to politics.” As such, there is a vein of resistance running through much of her work. She sings of love under occupation, equality, society and religion, with freedom the ultimate objective.

“A lot of the time I write for the purpose of trying to tell somebody something, or trying to express my opinion about something,” she said. “And sometimes I just feel this thing that’s blocking me, that I need to release in any way, and my way of releasing it is through music.

“Sometimes I release something just for myself. I write it, I turn it into a song and I don’t release it to the world, because sometimes some things are too private. I still do it, I still work on a song and I still do it in a way that I absolutely love the song, yet it will never be heard by anybody else.”

One song on her debut album is sung in English, titled “Live Free.”

“You know, when I started making music and writing my own songs I started writing in English,” she said. “I didn’t feel comfortable doing it in Arabic. And at some point I realized that it was a little bit strange for me, because the whole personality of a person changes when you change language.

“I wanted to start writing in Arabic to see what it would bring, and it brought a very new side of me that I didn’t know. Everything was different: the melodies, the type of words I used, how I built sentences — something just clicked. Arabic feels a lot more like home when writing music.”