Bizarre piece by Dan Levin (with additional reporting by Shi Da) in the New York Times. Pics by Aly Song/Reuters.
QINGDAO, China — It was enough to make a trio of heavily tattooed young men stop their playful splashing and to prompt a small boy to run to his mother in alarm: a woman rising out of the choppy waves of the sea, her head wrapped in a neon-orange ski mask.
As she made her way toward the shore, more people stared. A man floating in a yellow inner tube nudged his female companion, who muttered the question many others must have been asking themselves: “Why is she wearing that?”
“I’m afraid of getting dark,” said the mask-wearer, Yao Wenhua, 58, upon emerging from the seaweed-choked waters of this seaside city in China’s eastern Shandong Province. Eager to show why she sacrificed fashion for function, Ms. Yao, a retired bus driver, peeled the nylon over her forehead to reveal a pale, unwrinkled face.
“A woman should always have fair skin,” she said proudly. “Otherwise people will think you’re a peasant.”
For legions of middle-class Chinese women — and for those who aspire to their ranks — solar protection is practically a fetish, complete with its own gear. This booming industry caters to a culture that prizes a pallid complexion as a traditional sign of feminine beauty unscathed by the indignities of manual labor. There is even an idiom, which women young and old know by heart: “Fair skin conceals a thousand flaws.”
With the pursuit of that age-old aesthetic ideal at odds with the fast-growing interest in beachgoing and other outdoor activities, Chinese women have come up with a variety of ways to reconcile the two. Face masks like Ms. Yao’s have taken this popular beach town by storm. In cities, the summertime parasol is a more familiar accouterment, many adorned with rhinestones, lace or sequins (and sometimes all three). Those who need both hands free are fond of the tinted face shield, the perfect accessory for riding a bike — or welding. The fashion-conscious favor a chiffon scarf draped over the face.
What about arms exposed to the sun’s tanning rays? A search on China’s equivalent of Amazon yielded 20,000 results for “sun protection gloves.” These varied from form-fitting leopard-print sleeves that end at the wrist to arm-length gloves made of black lace.
Meanwhile, drugstore shelves across China bulge with rows of creams and cosmetic masks with names like White Swan and Snow White, promising a natural-looking aristocratic hue.
On a recent afternoon at Qingdao No. 1 Beach, the sand and surf were thronged. Beside the rows of orange beach umbrellas, people had erected dozens of camping tents, ignoring the amplified announcements that prohibited their use. Others made shelters out of multiple umbrellas or just piled on layers of fabric.
South Beach this was not. Some middle-age men chain-smoked in the shallows, their ample bellies bulging over diminutive Speedos. Under the watchful eyes of their parents, naked children built sand castles and relieved themselves in the moats. Older people were enjoying the sand, too, some using it to playfully bury their friends.
Few adults were entirely comfortable swimming in the ocean, judging by the ubiquity of inflatable armbands, inner tubes and rafts. Floating among them, looking like a flock of colorful waterfowl, were a number of women in masks. Some had even donned wet suits for total sun protection.
The masks, a relatively new product made of stretchy fabric commonly used in bathing suits, elicited a range of reactions from beachgoers.
“That is way over the top,” said Sun Li, 43, a gynecologist from Henan Province, when asked about the face masks. But Ms. Sun herself sat under an umbrella wearing a sun hat, sunglasses, a polka-dot surgical mask, a long-sleeve shirt and lace gloves. A shirt was draped over her legs for good measure.
Nearby, Li Benye lay on newspaper, shaded by twin parasols. Despite her commitment to paleness, she found the masks mystifying.
“They’re foreigners, right?” she asked. “Russians, most likely.”
While fair skin is prized across Asia, the women were, in fact, Chinese. The masks not only made them impervious to ultraviolet rays but also self-consciousness.
“Does it look like I care what people think?” bellowed Su Ailing, 57, clad in a red mask, blue goggles and a wetsuit. “The tourists dress skimpy, but we locals know how to protect our skin.”
The masks are a specialty of Qingdao, a German colony before World War I that is home to the Tsingtao Brewery. A few weeks ago, photographs of local women wearing such attire spread widely on the Internet, setting off mockery online but also a run on nearby shops.
“I just had to have one,” said Liu Jia, 32, the whites of her eyes gleaming through the holes of a pink mask, which matched the polka-dot sarong tied around her shoulders. Finding the item, she said, had proved arduous, with many store owners refusing to admit they had masks in stock. “I had to beg and plead,” she said.
The sudden scarcity, it turns out, may not have been a simple case of demand outrunning supply. After the photographs caught the attention of the nation, the local government ordered businesses to stop selling them, according to several shop owners, who said they were told the ban was due to concerns over “quality control.”
One seller, who declined to be identified for fear of angering the authorities, kept her supply of masks hidden under the counter. Only after repeated requests and vows of secrecy did she agree to part with one for 20 renminbi, about $3. “I don’t understand why the government is doing this,” she said, glancing nervously at the front door. “People just don’t want to get tan.”
Reached by phone, the Qingdao Administration for Industry and Commerce denied playing the role of fashion police. “Anybody who wants one is free to buy it in Qingdao,” said a man who gave his name as Director He.
So what explains the skittishness of so many proprietors? “The only reason why people think they shouldn’t be selling masks,” he replied, “is probably because they’re afraid thugs might use them for robbing banks.”
.
A homburg is a felt hat characterized by a single dent running down the center of the crown and a brim fixed in a tight, upwards curl. It is superficially similar to the trilby and fedora; however, those types of hat have soft, snappable brims and can have various designs pinched into the crown, whereas the shape of a homburg is fixed.
Although also used as a synonym for a short-brimmed fedora in the United Kingdom, the trilby is distinguished by a very narrow brim that is sharply turned up in the back and a short crown, which is pinched in the front and indented into a teardrop shape in the center. The hat's name derives from the stage adaptation of George du Maurier's 1894 novel Trilby; a hat of this style was worn in the first London production of the play, and promptly came to be called "a Trilby hat".
An ushanka (Literally "ear hat") is a Russian fur cap with ear flaps that can be tied up to the crown of the cap, or tied at the chin to protect the ears, jaw and lower chin from the cold. The thick dense fur also offers some protection against blunt impacts to the head. While no match for a helmet, it offers protection far superior to that of a typical beanie cap should the wearer fall and hit his or her head against ice or packed snow. The word Ushanka derives from ushi (у́ши), "ears" in Russian.
A Flat Cap, also known as a Sixpence, Scally Cap, Ivy Cap, Irish Cap, Tweed Cap, Salmon Hat, UNION Cap, Dai Cap, Jeff Cap, Windsor Cap, Touring Cap, Driving Cap, or Newspaper Cap, Cheesecutter Cap. It is a rounded men's cap with a small stiff brim in front. Cloths used to make the cap range from wool, tweed (most common) to cotton driving caps for summer wear, sometimes featuring air vents. Less common materials may include leather. Cord flat caps are also worn in various colors. The inside of the cap is usually lined with silk for comfort and warmth.
A fedora is usually felt, creased lengthwise down the crown and pinched in the front on both sides. The creasing does not define the hat, however. Fedoras can also be creased with teardrop crowns, diamond crowns, center dents, and others, and the positioning of pinches can vary if they are found at all. Early on, fedoras were sold open crown, meaning they were uncreased, with the owner creating his/her own crease manually. By the 1950s, hat makers started blocking the various creases into the hats when they were made. This is now the standard. The brim goes all the way around the crown and can be left raw edge, finished with a sewn overwelt or underwelt, bound with grosgrain ribbon, or finished with a self-felted cavanagh edge. Traditionally, fedoras have grosgrain hat bands. A trilby is similar to a fedora, but typically has a narrower brim, and the back of the brim is distinctively more sharply upturned as a result.
In France they call a bowler hat a "chapeau melon". I actually don't think we're quiiiite ready to have these bad boys back just yet. Bowlers were devised in 1849 by the London hatmakers Thomas and William Bowler to fulfil an order placed by the firm of hatters Lock & Co. of St James's. Lock & Co. had been commissioned by a client (British soldier and politician Edward Coke, the younger brother of the 2nd Earl of Leicester) to design a close-fitting, low-crowned hat to protect his gamekeepers' heads from low-hanging branches while on horseback. The keepers had previously worn top hats, which were easily knocked off and damaged.
A boater (also basher, skimmer, cady, katie, somer, or sennit hat) is a kind of hat associated with sailing and boating.
