It was heartening to see a young boy who took Chinese New Year seriously, style-wise. 赞！

By Ray Zhang

He caught my eye, but I was not the only one whose attention was commanded. People looked at him, amused. I, admiringly. Sixteen hours into the Year of the Snake, this boy suddenly appeared in my view, as if into a set. He inspired my approval also because of how he carried himself in the 袍服 (paofu) or a long, one-piece robe. He was an unexpected examplar of sartorial confidence. He moved so un-self-consciously, as though he has been wearing the 汉服 (handfu, Han clothing) all his young life. He took assured strides in such a way that suggested he was among others similarly attired. The bottom half of his paofu was not a bifurcated garment; it was clearly a skirt—also known in Chinese as the 裳 (chang) as opposed to the commonly-used 裙 (qun). Semantics aside, the boy wore his robe well and with a swashbuckling swagger that belied his young age.

At just ten, he donned the printed black robe—on which adorable cartoonish gold and red dragons swirled around the torso and sleeves—with amazing aplomb. He teamed the ankle-length garment with a pair of white New Balance 350 sneakers (that nicely pinked up the white of the top collar of the 右衽, youren closure), which would be the footwear of choice for a kid his age (rather than 靴子 or xuezi, the boots usually associated with swordsmen or calvary men). Across his body, he hung a plushie messenger bag in the shape of a capybara and flanked by pom poms (which reminded me of the 绒球 [rongqiu or velvet balls] on the 盔头 [kuitou or headress] of Chinese opera performers), a reminder that as a pre-pubescent, he was still partial to the cute, even if he moved with the saunter of a court official.

At just ten, he donned the printed black robe with amazing aplomb

I could not resist asking him about his outfit, which I had thought to be a costume for a performance at school perhaps. The chap politely told me that it was originally bought for Halloween (who would have guessed?). He would not have looked ghoulish, but he would have stood out among the other kids going about with a faux severed head (a seeming trend last year). He found the garment on 淘宝 (or Taobao), he told me. He decided to reprise it for Chinese New Year. The mother chimed in, appreciating my admiration: “He really likes dressing up. It was he who asked to wear this today.” The boy seemed amused that I found his attire so laudable. I told him he looked good. He smiled and said a soft thank you.

Amid an increasingly suibian (随便 or anything goes) attitude towards festive dress, a young boy’s choice of outfit for 大年初一 (danian chuyi or the first day of CNY) showed that one really does not need to follow the shorts-and-slippers brigade, every time. Dressing nicely (the hanfu not compulsory) once a year is not too much to ask. As I walked away, I turned to look at the kid again. He was seated on a high chair, about to enjoy a pastry and a beverage, the slightly fluted sleeves did not hamper his moves, his eating. Even in that position, he cut a 潇洒 (xiaosa, confident) figure. At that brief moment, it occured to me that, perhaps, fashion’s future on our style-skimpy shores would be fine.

Photography: Jim Sim