Guide & Tutorial

To create a traditional horse-face skirt is to converse with centuries of artisans. This process, honed during the Ming Dynasty and refined in the Qing era, transforms raw fabric into a cultural statement. Far from a simple garment, each skirt embodies calculated geometry, symbolic motifs, and generational wisdom—a wearable archive of Chinese craftsmanship. Material Selection Traditional skirts begin with fabric choices steeped in regional logic. Ming artisans preferred luo silk, a lightweight yet durable weave that allowed pleats to hold their shape without stiffness—ideal for Jiangnan’s humid climate. Qing tailors often opted for kesi tapestry silk for outer panels, its slit-tapestry technique enabling photorealistic embroidery. Modern recreations face ethical dilemmas: while purists source wild mulberry silk from historic Zhejiang farms, eco-conscious brands like Vermillion Phoenix now use organic hemp dyed with tea leaves to mimic antique hues. Pattern Drafting: Geometry in Service of Grace The four-panel template follows strict proportional rules. A typical Ming skirt for a woman of 165cm height requires: Two outer panels: 50cm wide x 105cm long Two inner panels: 30cm wide x 105cm long Waistband: 8cm wide x 110cm (allowing overlap) Historic pattern books like the Yuanyang Pu (1627) reveal secret adjustments: a 3° outward flare on outer panels to enhance the “horse face”…

Zhao Lusi's latest Tang Dynasty-inspired look in 'Pearl Curtain and Jade Screen' has fans reminiscing about her iconic Le Yan (乐嫣) character from 'The Long Ballad' (长歌行). While both styles draw from the Tang Dynasty aesthetic, there are notable differences that showcase her versatility in portraying historical roles. Le Yan's Hairstyle in 'The Long Ballad' In 'The Long Ballad', Zhao's Le Yan character sported the classic 'Bunny Ear' hairstyle, known as Baiheji (百合髻) or Lily Bun. This double-bun style, often with a center part or crisscross design, was popular during Emperor Taizong's reign (627 - 649 AD). Historical records from Ma Gao's 'Notes of Past and Present China' describe it as one of the signature hairstyles of early Tang Dynasty, perfectly complementing Zhao's sweet and youthful appearance. Hairstyle in 'Pearl Curtain and Jade Screen' The 'Pearl Curtain and Jade Screen' presents a more mature interpretation of Tang fashion. Zhao's character wears a single bun hairstyle, reminiscent of the Qiu Ji (囚髻) or Prisoner's Bun popular in mid - late Tang Dynasty. The styling features thinner, more voluminous sideburns creating a 'Chan Bin' (蝉鬓) or Cicada Wing effect - a delicate framing technique that mimics the transparency of cicada wings using…

In the popular drama 'Splendid Peace,' Ren Min's makeup has garnered significant attention, particularly her eyebrows, which dramatically enhance her facial features. In traditional Chinese makeup, the 'Emei' (蛾眉) or 'Moth Eyebrows' have been a long - standing trend. Described in ancient texts like 'Chu Ci' (楚辞) and 'Li Sao' (离骚), these eyebrows are slender, curved, and long, resembling the antennae of a silkworm moth. Historically, silkworm farming was a vital agricultural tradition, and even empresses participated in sericulture rituals, making the moth - inspired makeup unsurprising. Over time, the term 'Emei' evolved from a specific style to a general reference for various eyebrow shapes. For instance, during the Tang and Song dynasties, styles like 'Echi' (蛾翅) or 'Chuizhu Mei' (垂珠眉) emerged. In 'Splendid Peace,' Ren Min sports the 'Yueleng Mei' (月棱眉), also known as 'Qu Yue Mei' (却月眉), which resembles a crescent moon with a sharp upper edge and a softly blended lower edge. Other similar styles include 'Lianjuan Mei' (连娟眉), 'Liu Ye Mei' (柳叶眉), and 'Yuanshan Mei' (远山眉). These curved, elongated eyebrows suit most face shapes but are particularly flattering for round or broad faces, adding a sense of space and layered beauty reminiscent of Chinese ink paintings.…

Why didn't the high-waisted hanfu skirts (齐胸裙) worn by people in the Tang Dynasty fall down? This kind of skirt didn't have elastic bands or other similar measures. Did it rely on large breasts to stay up? Could it really stay in place without falling? The Principle of Skirt Fixation As we all know, in the Sui and Tang Dynasties of China's clothing history, the waistline of skirts became popular to move up. The current popular way of wearing it is called "high-waisted". As the name suggests, since it is worn on the chest and the high-waisted skirts we often see don't have shoulder straps, the force can only go downward. Then the chest must bear the necessary pressure. Let's think in a more straightforward way. We know that a skirt won't fall when tied around the waist because the waist is like a mortise and tenon structure. As long as it is tied tightly enough to prevent the waistline from slipping, you rarely see a wrapped skirt falling off unless it isn't tied properly. Similarly, for high-waisted skirts, as long as the tying part is tightened, you can jump around without the skirt falling. Fabric and Design Considerations Of…

At a recent event, actress Zhou Ye (周也) stunned in a shawl draped in a way reminiscent of her character in Scent of Time (为有暗香来). This sparked a wave of admiration online: “Who knew a shawl could be worn like this? Fashion truly transcends time!” Indeed, the various ways modern shawls are styled bear a striking resemblance to the classical pibo (披帛) of ancient China. While today’s shawls come in a variety of materials and styles, their role in enhancing an outfit remains unchanged. And just like in ancient times, there’s more than one way to wear them. The Evolution of Draped Elegance The concept of draping fabric over the shoulders dates back thousands of years. As early as the Wei and Jin dynasties, terracotta figurines depicted women wearing short, wide scarves known as 帔 (pei) or 披 (pi). These early forms of pibo were not just functional but also stylish, much like modern scarves. A poetic reference from the Southern and Northern Dynasties describes a woman’s elegance: "Her step-shaking hairpin sways, and the red edges of her pei flutter." By the Tang Dynasty, the pibo had evolved into a long, narrow accessory, becoming an essential part of women’s fashion.…

A Shift Towards Historical Accuracy For years, historical dramas have enchanted audiences with their lavish costumes, intricate sets, and grand storytelling. However, one aspect often overlooked is the accuracy of children’s hairstyles. Many period dramas have traditionally styled young characters with adult-like hairdos, giving them a "miniature adult" appearance that lacks the playful authenticity of childhood. Recently, however, a shift has begun, and productions like Jia Ye (家业), Flourished Peony (国色芳华), and Joy of Life (庆余年) are finally embracing historically accurate child hairstyles, leading viewers to exclaim: "So this is what ancient children really looked like!" The Evolution of Child Hairstyles in Ancient China Ancient Chinese children's hairstyles were far from uniform; they evolved through different stages as the child grew. Similar to modern times, children in historical China had distinct hair grooming traditions, beginning with shaved heads in infancy, moving to partially grown and styled hair, and eventually progressing to more formal hairstyles in adolescence. The idea that children must wear miniature versions of adult hairstyles is a modern misconception that certain period dramas are now correcting. Infancy: The Shaved or Minimal Hair Phase In early childhood, many children had their heads shaved regularly to promote hair growth, a…

Ancient Chinese wisdom distilled clothing choices into simple truths: light robes for summer, padded jackets for winter. But look closer, and you’ll find a nuanced system—24 solar terms (节气), 72 micro-seasons (物候), and festivals each demanding specific colors and motifs. This wasn’t just practicality; it was a silent dialogue between humans and the rhythms of nature.. Chapter 1: Lunar New Year (春节) The tradition of wearing new clothes for the Lunar New Year is widespread in Chinese culture. Regardless of social class, people are expected to wear their finest attire to usher in the new year. For officials and those of higher status, formal ceremonial clothing is a must. The colors of these garments—red, blue, yellow, white, and black—offer a range of options, but certain traditions guide their use. White is typically worn for mourning, red symbolizes celebration, and yellow was reserved for emperors after the Tang Dynasty. Red, blue, and black are more common, with red standing out as a symbol of prosperity, joy, and good fortune. Throughout the New Year festivities, red decorations such as firecrackers, lanterns, and spring couplets (春联) fill the environment, creating an atmosphere of happiness and festivity. Red has become the hallmark of wealth…

If you've ever watched a historical drama and wondered how anyone in those flowing, oversized sleeves could manage to go about their daily life—let alone eat, fight, or even use the restroom—you're not alone. The sight of characters gracefully strolling through scenes, their sleeves billowing out like sails, can seem a bit comical at times. But are these oversized sleeves a true reflection of ancient attire, or just a modern cinematic effect designed for flair? Understanding the "Big Sleeve" in Historical Fashion The term "wide sleeves" or "broad sleeves" has become almost synonymous with traditional Chinese clothing, especially in popular depictions of Hanfu in historical dramas. But here's the first thing to clarify: this feature is not a universal characteristic of all Hanfu garments. Instead, it’s a defining element of the ceremonial or formal robes, often worn by people of high social status, such as royalty or high-ranking officials. The expansive sleeves were meant to highlight the wearer’s identity, power, and elegance, signaling a person’s nobility or importance. Outside of official events or ceremonies, though, everyday clothing was designed for practicality, not drama. The oversized sleeves often seen in TV shows are a more recent trend driven by visual aesthetics,…

As a history enthusiast and frequent viewer of period dramas, I’ve noticed a troubling trend: even well-received shows often stumble when it comes to historical accuracy in costumes. Ming Dynasty in 1566 (大明王朝1566), a political drama lauded for its intricate plot and acting, is no exception. Despite its sky-high ratings, the series fails to accurately portray Ming-era official attire—a surprising misstep given the wealth of surviving records and artifacts from the period. Historical Accuracy vs. Creative Liberties The drama revolves around court politics, featuring emperors, ministers, and bureaucrats. Ming official clothing, meticulously documented in texts like the History of Ming, leaves little room for ambiguity. Yet the show’s costume design strays far from reality. Take the officials’ headwear, for example. The odd, box-like crowns worn by characters resemble a simplified version of the Longjin (笼巾), a ceremonial headpiece reserved for nobility—not regular officials. According to the History of Ming, the Longjin was part of formal court attire (chaofu, 朝服) worn during grand ceremonies. It included intricate accessories like jade or gold cicadas, pheasant feathers, and layered silk bands. Yet in the show, the design feels cheap and anachronistic—closer to a generic “ancient official” costume bought in bulk for low-budget productions.…

If there’s one thing historical dramas love, it’s a good cloak. Flowing, dramatic, and effortlessly elegant, the cloak has become a staple in costume design, draping over generals, scholars, and noblewomen alike. But as striking as they look on screen, one can’t help but wonder—do these cloaks actually keep anyone warm? Take Nirvana in Fire (琅琊榜) as an example. The protagonist, Mei Changsu (梅长苏), spends most of his time wrapped in thick fur-lined cloaks, yet somehow, he always looks like he’s one chilly breeze away from freezing solid. Viewers have joked that he must have succumbed to hypothermia long before the series’ dramatic conclusion. So what’s the deal? Are these cloaks truly as impractical as they seem, or is there more to their historical evolution? Cloaks in Costume Design Cloaks have long been favored by costume designers for their cinematic effect. They add movement to a character, create an air of mystery, and make even the most unassuming figure look imposing. In Nirvana in Fire, Mei Changsu’s fur-lined cloaks emphasize his frailty while still giving him an air of quiet authority. But do these garments serve their intended function, or are they just glorified fashion statements? The answer, unfortunately, leans…

If you spotted a character in a historical drama twirling in a pink, pleated dress and thought, Wow, that looks surprisingly modern, you're not alone. The outfit in question, featured in The Glory (雁回时), closely resembles a contemporary flared dress, but it actually belongs to a category of Ming Dynasty garments known as tieli (贴里). This style, along with the similar yesa (曳撒), reflects a fascinating blend of influences, practicality, and visual appeal—so much so that modern designers could easily take inspiration from it. Tieli vs. Yesa: Not Just for Women At first glance, tieli and yesa might look like elegant, structured dresses, but in the Ming Dynasty, they were primarily worn by men. Both originated under the influence of Yuan-Mongol styles but were later adapted into Han Chinese fashion. The key difference? Yesa features a smooth front panel known as a Mamian (马面), while tieli is characterized by full pleats from top to bottom. These structured garments were designed for mobility, making them popular choices for officials, scholars, and even military figures. While women occasionally wore these garments, it was often as part of cross-dressing trends in dramas or plays, where they took on male roles. Today, it’s not…

As someone deeply passionate about historical clothing and accessories, people often ask me: "Does your knowledge of ancient fashion ruin your enjoyment of period dramas?" The answer is—quite the opposite! In fact, it adds another layer of enjoyment, turning each viewing into a treasure hunt for accurate details (or amusing anachronisms). Take "Nirvana in Fire 2" (琅琊榜之风起长林), for example. The series boasts stunning visuals, but as I watched, I couldn't help but notice a curious detail—the jewelry worn by characters like Empress Xun (荀皇后) and the Grand Lady of Laiyang (莱阳太夫人) bore striking similarities to Ming Dynasty designs. However, their application in the drama was... unconventional, to say the least. It appears that the production team sourced historically inspired pieces but missed the mark on how they were actually worn. Filigree Gold Phoenix Hairpins One of the most eye-catching pieces worn by Empress Xun is a set of three gold phoenix hairpins (累丝嵌宝石金凤簪). These exquisite accessories have a real-life counterpart: they are modeled after jewelry unearthed from Ming Dynasty imperial tombs in the western suburbs of Beijing. These tombs, unfortunately looted and excavated long ago, left behind only fragments of their once-lavish burial artifacts, yet what remains showcases remarkable craftsmanship.…

The opulent red gown worn by the character of Empress Miao in the historical drama The Glory (雁回时) has left viewers in awe. With its vibrant crimson hue, intricate details, and dramatic silhouette, it conjures up images of Dream of the Red Chamber (红楼梦), especially the scene where the imperial consort visits the imperial court in a ceremonial outfit. Could it be a nod to a regal garment from the Ming Dynasty, the mangpao (蟒袍), a dress that exudes both power and ceremony? The outfit Miao Guifei (苗贵妃) wears in The Glory isn't just any costume—it's an interpretation of the mangpao, a traditional Ming Dynasty ceremonial gown typically worn by high-ranking officials and imperial family members. The gown’s structure is a perfect balance between grandiosity and elegance, characterized by its round collar, long robe length, and the iconic mang (蟒) dragon motif embroidered onto the fabric. The mangpao was often reserved for the most important occasions, worn by figures of the highest stature, such as empresses or consorts. In the case of Miao Guifei, the attire suggests not only her high rank but her formidable presence—no wonder viewers felt like this was more than just a royal entrance; it had…

On Ninghui Road in Yu Garden Mall, Kaede from Tokyo, Japan, and her friend are experiencing Hanfu photography in Yu Garden. As spring arrives, the 2025 Shanghai Yu Garden Mid - Spring Flower Festival has kicked off, attracting numerous Chinese and foreign tourists. According to the news from Yu Garden Mall, starting from the Mid - Spring Flower Festival, the upgraded Huancai Yu Garden Light Show combined with Chinese - style performances has officially launched. During this flower festival, accompanied by five sets of Chinese - style music, Yu Garden will use the core buildings in the central square, Nine - Bend Bridge, and Golden Square as the background to present a spring flower scene with dynamic floodlights. Recently, when the reporter visited Yu Garden, it was found that at nightfall, the dynamic lights in the garden blended with the flower scene and Chinese - style performances, swaying gracefully. Whether on Ninghui Road, known as the "ceiling of Chinese aesthetics", or in the central square and Golden Square where Chinese - style dances and ancient music are performed irregularly, tourists in Hanfu can be seen everywhere. Regardless of nationality and language, they not only integrate with the immersive Chinese -…

Chen Duling (陈都灵) is an actress with a rare ancient charm. In the past, she outshone Bai Lu (白鹿) in every aspect. Ancient costumes are very demanding on body conditions. Especially for tall and slender women, they look very charming, fully embodying the temperament of the ancients. However, they are not friendly to those with a poor body - proportion and a five - five split figure. Although they can cover up their body flaws, the difference is obvious when standing together. This is why Chen Duling outshone Bai Lu in Long Moon Embracing the Star, and Bai Lu was even labeled as an ordinary - looking woman. This time, Chen Duling is stunningly beautiful in Qin - Han Hanfu. She suits these figure - flattering and fate - filled costumes, including some Song - style and Wei - Jin - style Hanfu. The Qin - Han hairstyles are quite simple. Most of them are loose hair with wisps of hair left at the temples, making the person look delicate and vulnerable. Coupled with willow - leaf eyebrows, the image of a gentle and helpless beauty emerges. However, Chen Duling's eyes are sharp. Although she looks like an innocent little…

When world leaders stepped onto the global stage at the 2014 APEC Summit in Beijing, their attire transcended mere diplomatic protocol. The "New Chinese Attire" (新中装) became an instant cultural phenomenon—a sartorial manifesto that bridged millennia of craftsmanship with 21st-century innovation. This meticulously curated wardrobe did more than clothe dignitaries; it reintroduced the world to Jiangnan's textile heritage while sparking a "Guofeng" (国风) revival that continues to shape China's contemporary fashion identity. Today, as traditional techniques like Su embroidery (苏绣) and Song brocade (宋锦) find fresh relevance in streetwear and haute couture, the South China Museum's exhibition Splendid Jiangnan: The Golden Age of Chinese Textile Art (锦绣江南——中国传统织绣工艺的巅峰创造) revisits this pivotal moment, unpacking how six iconic APEC ensembles became catalysts for cultural reinvention. From Imperial Workshops to Global Runways The Yangtze River Delta's Jiangnan (江南) region, long celebrated as the cradle of Chinese textile excellence, has cultivated textile arts for over 2,000 years. During the Ming and Qing dynasties, Suzhou's embroidery ateliers and Nanjing's brocade looms supplied the imperial court with fabrics so exquisite they were deemed "cloth woven by clouds." Yet by the late 20th century, many of these crafts faced extinction, preserved only in museum archives or practiced by…

In the golden age of historical dramas, off-the-shoulder costumes were a staple, often resembling an ancient version of a "deep V." These bold designs captivated audiences with their dramatic flair, but as modern productions strive for greater historical accuracy, such outfits have largely vanished from the screen. Were these revealing styles ever rooted in historical reality? And what led to their decline in contemporary storytelling? The Historical Roots of Off-the-Shoulder Fashion Contrary to the sensationalized portrayals in early historical dramas, ancient Chinese fashion was far more conservative. While certain artworks, such as the murals in the Xu Xianxiu Tomb (徐显秀墓) or figurines from the Wei and Jin dynasties, might suggest the existence of off-the-shoulder attire, these depictions are often misinterpreted. In reality, such outfits were layered with undergarments, ensuring modesty even with a slightly exposed neckline. For instance, during the Northern and Southern Dynasties, a style known as Daxiu ru (large-sleeved robes, 大袖襦) gained popularity. This design featured wide sleeves and a deep neckline, but it was always paired with a circular undergarment or Liangdang (a type of vest, 裲裆) to cover the shoulders. The result was a look that revealed only the collarbone at most—far from the exaggerated "shoulder-baring"…

In the world of historical dramas, few details are as iconic as the sight of characters tying their wide sleeves before engaging in combat. This simple yet practical act, often seen in childhood favorites, is more than just a stylistic choice—it’s a reflection of ancient Chinese ingenuity and functionality. From battlefields to everyday life, the practice of tying sleeves has deep cultural roots, blending practicality with elegance. Sleeve-Tying The tradition of tying sleeves can be traced back to two main purposes: as a simplified version of arm guards in martial contexts and as a practical tool for daily tasks, known as panbo (襻膊). Both uses highlight the adaptability of ancient Chinese clothing to the needs of its wearers. Arm Guards: From Battlefields to Screens The earliest examples of arm guards date back to the Warring States period, where bronze arm guards were used by soldiers. These cylindrical metal protectors were designed to shield the forearm during combat. By the Han Dynasty, arm guards evolved into textile versions, such as the famous "Five Stars Rise in the East, Benefiting China" arm guard, made of intricately woven brocade. These guards were secured with straps, offering both protection and flexibility. In modern historical…

Purple, often associated with royalty and nobility, has long been considered a color of prestige and power. In ancient China, it was widely believed that commoners were forbidden from wearing purple, reserved exclusively for the elite. But was this truly the case? The answer, as it turns out, is more nuanced than a simple yes or no. The Origins of Purple’s Prestige The perception of purple as a noble color stems from two main factors: the high cost of purple dye and the influence of class systems and cultural trends. However, it’s important to note that not all shades of purple were created equal. The color spectrum includes countless variations, and not every hue was off-limits to the general populace. The Cost of Purple Dye Purple dye was indeed expensive to produce. One of the most common sources of purple dye was the murasaki plant, while another was sappanwood, which yielded a different shade of purple. However, plant-based dyes were less stable and durable compared to mineral-based alternatives. During the Han Dynasty, a breakthrough occurred with the discovery of "Han Purple," a synthetic pigment made from barium copper silicate. This vibrant hue, found on the terracotta warriors of the Qin…

In the world of historical dramas, the weimao (帷帽, veiled hat) is a staple of cinematic beauty. Often seen in scenes where the heroine’s face is revealed as the wind lifts her veil, this iconic accessory has become synonymous with ethereal charm. Yet, despite its visual appeal, the weimao is often dismissed as a “beautiful but useless” item. But is it truly just a decorative prop, or does it hold deeper historical significance? The Origins of the Veiled Hat The weimao traces its roots to the nomadic tribes of ancient Central Asia, where it was initially designed as a practical garment to shield wearers from sand and wind. Its predecessor, the mili (羃篱, a bamboo-framed veil), was worn by both men and women for protection during travel. Over time, the weimao evolved into a shorter, more refined version made of silk or gauze, with a wide brim and a veil that draped to the neck. By the Tang Dynasty (618–907 AD), it had become a fashionable accessory for women, symbolizing both modesty and status. A Symbol of Changing Times The weimao reached its peak popularity during the Tang Dynasty, a period marked by cultural openness and innovation. Historical records, such…

In the world of Chinese historical dramas, few accessories are as iconic as the forehead ribbon, or mo’e (抹额). Recently featured in popular series like Fangs of Fortune (大梦归离) and The Untamed (陈情令), this simple yet elegant accessory has captured the imagination of audiences worldwide. But what is the story behind this ancient adornment, and how has it evolved over time? From its origins as a practical tool to its role as a symbol of identity and status, the mo’e offers a fascinating glimpse into Chinese cultural heritage. A Symbol of Identity and Utility The forehead ribbon has a rich history, serving both practical and symbolic purposes. Its earliest recorded use dates back to the Qin Dynasty (221–206 BCE), where it was employed as a military insignia. Known as junrong mo’e (军容抹额), these ribbons were part of the uniform worn by soldiers and ceremonial guards. They were often paired with specific attire, such as red robes and wide trousers, to denote rank and role. Historical texts, including The Chronicles of the Han Dynasty, describe how the mo’e became a standard feature of military dress, symbolizing discipline and order. For women, the forehead ribbon had a more utilitarian function. During the…

In the world of ancient Chinese jewelry, few pieces have captured the imagination of modern enthusiasts quite like the so-called "Moth Crown" attributed to Li Jingxun (李静训), a young noblewoman from the Sui Dynasty. However, recent scholarly insights reveal that this exquisite artifact is not a crown at all, but a hairpin—a detail that has been overlooked in popular reproductions and adaptations. This revelation not only corrects a historical misconception but also deepens our appreciation for the intricate craftsmanship and cultural significance of this remarkable piece. The Misidentified "Crown" The hairpin, often mistaken for a crown, is a stunning example of Tang Dynasty jewelry. It belongs to the category of buyao (步摇, step-shaking ornaments), which were designed to sway gently with the wearer’s movements. Shen Congwen (沈从文), in his seminal work Research on Ancient Chinese Clothing (中国古代服饰研究), refers to it as a "moth-and-flower hair ornament," (闹蛾儿扑花首饰) while archaeological reports describe it simply as a "hair accessory." The confusion likely stems from the fact that most images of the artifact show only a partial view, leading many to assume it was a crown. However, crowns typically have a base structure, which this piece lacks. Instead, it is a multi-pronged hairpin, a…

In recent years, intricate half-face masks have become a popular accessory in historical dramas, leaving many viewers wondering: how did these delicate ornaments stay securely on the wearer’s face? The answer lies in the ingenious design of ancient Chinese masks, which have evolved over millennia, blending functionality with artistry. These masks, far from being mere decorative items, hold deep cultural significance and offer a fascinating glimpse into China’s rich heritage. The Mechanics of Ancient Masks At first glance, these masks appear to float effortlessly on the face, but a closer look reveals their practical design. Typically, they are secured by ties at the sides, fastened at the back of the head. A subtle groove along the nose bridge ensures the mask stays in place, preventing it from slipping. This clever combination of ties and structural support allowed wearers to move freely without fear of their masks falling off. Masks in Ancient China While some might associate such masks with Western traditions, China boasts a long history of intricate mask-making, dating back to the Shang and Zhou dynasties. The most iconic examples come from the Sanxingdui and Jinsha archaeological sites, where gold and bronze masks were unearthed. These masks, often depicting…

The Song Dynasty (960–1279 AD) is often romanticized for its elegance and sophistication, particularly in fashion. One of the most iconic beauty trends of the era was the "pearl makeup," where women adorned their faces with tiny pearls. But did the number and placement of these pearls signify social status or rank? The answer, surprisingly, is no. Pearl Makeup: A Universal Trend Contrary to popular belief, the use of pearls in makeup during the Song Dynasty was not regulated by social hierarchy. While the imperial court had strict rules for official attire and ceremonial dress—such as the number of dragons or phoenixes embroidered on robes—there were no such guidelines for pearl makeup. Pearls were a universal fashion statement, embraced by women across all social strata. The pearls were typically applied to specific areas of the face: between the eyebrows, along the temples, and on the cheeks. These placements were not arbitrary but followed aesthetic principles that highlighted the natural contours of the face. However, the number of pearls used was entirely a matter of personal preference and financial means, not rank. Pearls as a Symbol of Wealth While the number of pearls did not denote social status, their abundance often…