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fiber arts MY MOTHER'S FORMAL QIPAO FORMAL EVENT at the Chinese Embassy in Rome, where author's late father, Wen-Tao Liu (wearing glasses and sash in center of the arch) was ambassador in the 1930s; his wife, Mary Man-Li Liu, is on the arm of an unidentified guest of honor. Note that she and the other Chinese women are wearing floor-length, formal qipao. DETAIL OF PHOENIX EMBROIDERY on one of my late mother's formal qipao, worn during time she was a diplomat's wife in Germany and Italy during the 1930s. While dress was made in Shanghai, it is not known if the embroidery was of the Hunan or Suzhou workshops. Photograph scanned by Kristopher T. Liu. Robert K. Liu 30 ORNAMENT 36.2.2012 E ach culture's dress reflects not only what was being worn at that particular time, but also the skills and taste of those wearing and making that clothing. During a recent working trip to the East Coast, I and my sisters had a rare chance to view my late mother's surviving formal qipao, matching shoes and an accessory. This serendipity and some hurried informal photography gave me the impetus to write about Chinese formal qipao, integrated with family history. Earlier this year author Sally Leung discussed the history of qipao, the traditional Chinese woman's dress in Ornament, Volume 35, No. 5. Having a national identity, it was worn at formal occasions. Home schooled except when my mother got the unusual permission from her parents to leave the family compound in Beijing to attend high school, she was also given that rare opportunity to travel to England to attend art school. On board ship, she met my father, already a well-known revolutionary and twice mayor of Hankow, who was being sent to France to study. They married in Paris, while mother was only nineteen (her dream of studying painting also did not come to fruition). In 1931 my father was assigned to Germany and Austria as minister; by 1934, he was ambassador to Italy. Prior to both postings, when only in her early twenties, she prepared her wardrobe in Shanghai, then and now China's most cosmopolitan city. Although without any formal art training, mother designed and commissioned a large series of beautifully executed formal silk qipao, often with matching shoes. For example, black silk shoes were designed to accompany a black dress with flying cranes, increasing in size from top to bottom of the qipao. On the heels of these shoes were subtly embroidered cranes. For closures, instead of cloth frogs, fiber loops were used to hold jewels of pearls, jade or a combination that served the function of buttons. Almost all her clothing was embroidered, sometimes in silver or gold thread. As the dresses were hand-tailored, her designs undoubtedly drew upon craftspeople from China's two primary centers of embroidery in Hunan and Suzhou. While no examples remain, this type of fine stitchery was also extended to other fiber used abroad, like bedcovers. Although we are not aware of any records of the many formal occasions at China's foreign consulates or embassy, my elder sister Elizabeth Liu Bainbridge does remember what my mother told her during her introduction to Chancellor Paul von Hindenburg of Germany in 1931 or 1933, when she wore the phoenix decorated qipao. He said that when he first visited China, she was not yet born. These remarkable dresses, representing their gifted designer and their makers, undoubtedly were often in the presence of Europe's famous and infamous leaders, including Hitler and Mussolini. Some of them were worn by my sister Elizabeth after we immigrated to the United States. These mementoes of my mother's skills and their makers' excellence will live on I hope in some meaningful way. REFERENCE Leung, Sally. "The Last Empress in Qipao. From Manchu to China Chic." Ornament, Vol. 35, No. 5: 58-63.