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Published: February 26th 2022
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I ascribe to the adage, the world is our runway. I believe every day offers fashion moments. Moments to express our feelings, our creativity and our very personal identity. We may fall into fashion habits, we may develop our own personal uniforms and we may even become complacent at times, but there is always an opportunity to walk your own runway. And when we are really lucky, our runway goes international.
Before we step foot on our local or global runway, there are so many things to consider. From time and place, to climate and geography, to emotions and social etiquette. This list is big and can be heavy, but it becomes even more real when you realize your next runway is going to be in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.
What do you pack for a trip to the desert where you will be around camels, but also meeting with dignitaries; where you are at a festival for tourists, but attending as a guest? And let’s just ask the really big question, what do you wear when you are a woman? A woman in the male dominated industry of camels and in the country
of Saudi Arabia.
I know what you are thinking. You are going to Saudi, there is no decision. You wear what they expect you to wear and you follow the hyper strict dress code all the females in the Kingdom follow. If this trip were happening years earlier, I would have agreed with you wholeheartedly, but as I watch from afar, I have noticed changes in Saudi and most are in favor of women.
At one time, all women were expected to wear an abaya and to cover their head and when western women were deplaning on arrival in KSA, if they were not dressed appropriately they were handed an abaya before they even arrived at customs. I had a friend who went to the embassy to apply for a tourist visa and there was a laundry list of rules she had to follow simply to enter the embassy building in her own country. She said she had to cover her head, be accompanied by her husband and she could not polish her nails, to name a few. Wow. That is specific, and intimidating.
What I have been hearing the last
few years is these rules are drastically changing. That is great news, but I am skeptical by nature and do not want to error on the side of being too culturally casual in this runway moment.
So, I asked a colleague about what to wear and the response was “you are invited by the Royal Family, you can wear whatever you want. No one is going to tell you differently.” Do I even need to tell you that this particular colleague is a man?
I decided to stop over thinking this situation and go with what I know. I am going there because of camels, to be with camels and in search of camels. I will dress for the camels.
At home I have a pretty predictable ranch uniform of blue jeans, boots, a vintage western shirt and a hat. It is what I wear year round even though the temperatures at Shamrock Farms can hang out in the 100-plus degrees Fahrenheit neighborhood and drop to double digit negative degrees Fahrenheit depending on the month.
Much like the traditional dress in Saudi Arabia, the typical ranch uniform is
rooted in a history of safety and protection. Ranchers need tough fabrics to withstand barbed wire, thorny brush and handling animals. We need pockets to hold our knife and our curry combs. We need our heads covered to ward off the elements of a brutal sun and a possible unruly animal. We wear long sleeves to protect us from all of the above mentioned conditions from sun to barbed wire to scratchy hay bales. I suppose the modesty of the uniform comes from the sheer need for protection.
Was this philosophical and historical analysis of what I was going to wear my way of rationalizing my decision and soothing any anxiety about a fashion or cultural faux pas? Most definitely.
I packed my bags and even as I was ready to zip up my pack for the trip, I stood there momentarily holding my abaya in my hand contemplating.
******
I started my journey with focus on the trip and almost forgot about the wardrobe plotting that happened just prior, but I was reminded before I ever arrived on Saudi soil. If the world is our runway, let
me tell you how to demand everyone’s attention. Walk onto a flight heading to Jordan as a single female wearing a cowboy hat and boots.
I casually walked onto the plane with thoughts of nothing more than, when do we get to eat, get your book out of your bag and wonder if I can sleep on this flight, but was quickly brought back into the moment when I felt so many eyes on me. It’s as if the other passengers were all playing a game of which one doesn’t belong and they had all spotted the winner.
The irony was that a few hours into the flight, a lady sitting next to me smiled, leaned over and began as if she were going to tell me a tidbit of juicy gossip. I leaned in eager to know what was on her mind and was disappointed when my ears were filled with Arabic. I apologized and told her I regrettably only spoke English. As the words began tumbling out of my mouth, she lurched back in shock as if to clutch her pearls. “But I thought…” She never finished her thought and then just
stared at me as if I were a puzzle impossible to solve.
So apparently the lady dressed like she must have just tied up her horse outside the airport also looked like she spoke Arabic? This is why we cannot make assumptions, even on the world runway.
*******
It was a long haul but the moment of truth arrived around 2 am when my flight landed in Riyadh. I was focused on making sure I found the proper visa section and was ready to prove I met all the Covid protocols. I felt like I was trying to stay afloat in a sea of people who had all done this before and who all spoke Arabic.
As I headed to the visa desk a female immigration officer stepped in my path and put up her hands indicating I needed to stop. Oh shit, I have already violated some code of conduct and I am not even legally in the country yet.
I obediently stopped and stood there in silence as she paused and looked me over. You can only imagine what I am thinking right
now. She paused a little more just for emphasis and then she flashed a beautiful smile.
“I just LOVE your outfit! You look so beautiful.” She took another moment to look me over from head to toe. After exchanging the sort of pleasantries women in these endearing moments do, I was on my way again.
I cannot imagine how it must have looked, the scene of her, in her elegant, exotic and sequin embellished abaya, complimenting me on my ranch wear (essentially chore clothes, but they were clean). It felt like I just stepped out of a New Yorker cartoon commentating on women, cultures, clothes or whatever.
******
That moment in the airport was only the beginning. The women of Saudi are generous with their compliments, personable, approachable and they love the way cowgirls dress. I was stopped countless times asking for a photo after a compliment on my outfit and then a flood of questions about what I was wearing.
It never ceased to shock me a little as the Saudi women are also so elegant, beautiful and purposeful in their appearance no matter
how much they decide to cover or not cover. I am making generalized stereotypes, but I never got used to how gorgeous the women of Saudi are, so when they decided to take note of my rural inspired runway I cannot help but smile in disbelief.
I took Shamrock Farms belt buckles for the male hosts that brought me to the Kingdom, but maybe next time I will bring cowboy hats for all the Saudi women.
****For more stories and photos about our travels, please follow along on Facebook at Valeri Crenshaw and on instagram at Valerispassport!****
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