Not often do I get to break out the Middle Eastern kaftan hanging idle in my wardrobe; it is simply too lavish for a two-course second sitting, yet not quite formal enough for black tie and port-sipping. Therefore, when signups opened for the annual Confluence dinner at my college (thanks to equalities rep Rach Tan!) , the excitement was immediate. My kaftan’s gold embroidery could finally see the light of day.
We started the evening with bubbly flutes of champagne in The Queen’s College OTR, a quaint room that certainly appeals to the dark academia romantics out there: plush leather couches, an overwhelming amount of carved wooden furnishings, and the college arms painted above an antique fireplace. However, instead of a sea of black suits and bowties, the room was lit with fabric swathes of intense emerald, yellow, and red. Glasses clinked as students guessed where each piece of clothing hailed from, admiring the clean lines of black kohl and meticulous folds of saris.
Using my privileges as a Cherwell Fashion Editor, I had the opportunity to photograph fellow Queen’s students adorned in their cultural dress. Standout pieces included a blue qipao with lush navy trimmings, a radiant gold sari embellished with crystals at the hem, and a traditionally-patterned yellow A-line dress hand-sewn in Nigeria.
The menswear was not to be glossed over either. First-year law student Alex Sidebottom told Cherwell: “My dad’s sherwani has a couple stains, but it’s nice to wear something he wore on his wedding. Even if the threads are coming loose.” Also spotted in the men’s department was a keffiyah scarf on a dusty grey matching set. A welcome change to the rather stale black suit and tie sported at every single formal occasion.
The dining hall may have been the same, with your standard three courses (fish as the entree, in classic Queen’s style), but the stories told across the table were suddenly more intimate. I felt proud when one of the servery staff asked where my dress was from – more so than if I’d been wearing my usual Hot Topic attire. My kaftan is different to the threads I typically throw on before hurrying over to the China Centre for a lecture. Traditional clothing is a celebration of where we’re from, stitched delicately into where we are now.
The term ‘mixing pot’ is one often heard in reference to the UK. As cliché as it may sound, it is undeniable that our culture has been shaped by hundreds of others (I still giggle every time I hear a rogue mashallah!). Why shouldn’t that apply to our dress sense too? As I sat in the hall, finishing my third glass of wine for the night, I mourned the loss of opportunities to wear a shalvar, or that very kaftan. Rest assured, she will no longer hang endlessly in my cupboard when the next second sitting rolls around.
