A simply beautiful piece of cloth
I love silk sarongs. For a simple, uncomplicated piece of cloth, they represent so much in my life.
My love of textiles.
Silk sarongs are my little indulgence.
Every single one is carefully chosen. I can recall from where and whom I bought each sarong from—bargaining in the markets, or as a treat for myself when I’ve been busy scouring the fabric markets in Denpasar for my kimono range and staff outfits.
A sarong makes the best travel companion
Sarongs are also my travel buddies. They take up no room, and are my eternal reminder of Bali wherever I travel to in the world.
I have worn my sarongs in so many places—New York, Paris, the beach, etc. I have worn them city style with shirt, jewelry and decent shoes. I have worn them casual, Bali style, thrown on with a t-shirt, and also glammed up for temple ceremonies.
In fact, I never get on a plane or travel anywhere without one in my bag. A sarong has so many uses. It’s a scarf to protect me from the wind on the back of a motor bike; a wrap to ward off the inevitable (and awful) chill on a plane; it covers my arms and shoulders respectfully in the village, or when I visit other cultures; and it’s a scarf to transform an outfit from dull to fabulous when unexpectedly invited to social events on my travels.
(As an aside, I wear my sarongs with style and pride and mindfully. I’m not one to look like I’ve just left Kuta beach or a yoga retreat in Ubud! My sarongs are not chuck on because I can’t be bothered wearing anything else items.)
There is another angle to all this, though. I am absolutely enchanted by the clash of patterns, colours and textures that Balinese men and women wear, all at the same time. And I have many beautiful photos to prove that this clash works. I so admire the style with which they carry it off. It’s unique. Effortless. The bohemian in me desires dressing this way (and as a not-so-hidden boho, I do admit to tapping around the edges of this style).
There’s a damn it all because it doesn’t matter approach to life (and dressing) that I admire in the Balinese. The PLAIN ME (the one who wears grey marle t-shirts) really wants to just pile on the patterns and not have a care. I can’t quite pull it off with the required nonchalance of the Balinese, so my silk sarongs are a practical attempt to edge my way in to the effortless clash.
Mixing the patterned with the plain.
Kind of like life, really.