A High School Director's Theater Experience Having Costumes Made in Hue, Vietnam
By Lenore Grunko (also, President of the Connecticut Drama Association)
E. O. Smith High School
Storrs, CT
lenoregrunko@yahoo.com
I arrived here in Hue on August 5, 2007 to visit my husband, Patrick, who has been working on the Simmons College/Hue University library project with Terry Plum all summer. When I travel, I like to get beyond the typical tourist agenda, so I had decided before I left Connecticut, that I would try to have some costumes made here, knowing that the textile industry is big business in Vietnam. Hue and the surrounding area gets a great deal of press regarding the numerous shops where clothing can be made very cheaply and very quickly. All the rumors are true.
I’m a high school musical theater director and it is common to need hundreds of pieces for one show. The job of creating them is overwhelming for those of us who are too weak to say, “no” to the task. It often becomes a labor of love and devotion for parents. (And for those parents reading this, I’m hoping that you will see it as an opportunity to pass time together once your kids have moved on!) All the literature touts the remarkably low prices for making clothing in Hue, Vietnam, so I planned to have three different pieces made in multiple quantities that would (hopefully!) fit the cast I will receive this fall. Having directed for 35 years, the patterns of participation have been consistent, so I felt if I selected styles that could flex with a range of body types, I would be ok.
The musical we’re doing this year is Return to the Forbidden Planet, a hit British rock musical. Think Shakespeare meets Elvis meets Star Wars and you get the picture. At first, my mind went its usual unharnessed way trying to design costumes for this show, until I realized that fewer misinterpretations would occur if I reigned myself in. I know that communicating the details of a costume concept is a tremendous challenge, even with peers. My artistic skills are insufficient for such a job. The male and female chorus for the show is basically a crew on a space ship. I decided to keep the design, no matter what it was, simple. Fussy details could be added back home. If I went with a Jedi warrior look, I’d only have to deal with a kimono, which could be an easy construction in Asia. I was right. Even the word kimono appears the same when spoken or written. I decided to have pants made as well, since I was using a basic style that traditional Vietnamese wear underneath their ao dai, hence, another easy piece. I had to become more inventive with the females. Replicating a Princess Leia look, might not only approach copyright infringement ☺, but be difficult to dance in! I then veered away from a dress concept, figuring that multiple bodies could be more easily fitted in a skirt, once I had names of real life cast members.
Terry and Patrick had made a contact through the Library Resource Center with a recent college graduate from Hue who was willing to escort us around- on the back of her motor bike- to shop or sightsee in exchange for a small payment and an opportunity to practice speaking English. With no time to protest the motorbike ride- “You wait here. I be back.” Out pops Nhien with her motorbike. My heart revved louder than the bike and we took off. I only had a week here in Hue- no time to equivocate. If people in this town were going to crank out 55 pieces, they needed a little warning.
The first task was to find willing people for the job. Nhien and I quickly concluded that finding different people for each of the three pieces might be a good idea if we ever wanted to see them before I had to leave town. This job took all day. She knew a few people we could approach. We headed out to a neighborhood where the shops looked more like stalls, perhaps sharing a wall, yet all simply constructed out of cement blocks. As we darted from the city’s center through giant traffic circles, gradually passing into neighborhoods flanked by makeshift abodes- cement walls and tin roofs, we passed shops for motorbike repair, welding, haircuts, hats, chairs, and sewing, each given equal an equal footprint. We stopped at one owned by a man who told Nhien that he would not be able to make anything for me since school time was approaching and the children needed new cloths. More likely, he probably didn’t want to deal with a crazy foreigner- the kids all wear uniforms. Smart man. Nhien zipped us off down another road to a family friend, but the shop was closed- two heavy wooden doors that double as a fourth wall were secured by a padlock. A neighboring shop owner told us the owner was at a wedding (on a Monday) and would be back by 3:00pm. Meanwhile, passers-by, mostly kids, stopped often to smile and stare and practice saying, “hello”. That is as far as conversations got.
Since we were still in data-collecting mode, we headed to a shop across the street from the hotel designed to do this kind of thing- My Huong Soieries. The owners came with a great recommendation from Terry’s wife, Sydney, who had an ao dai (pronounced ou zhai) made there for their daughter- $8 for materials and labor -when she visited Terry in July. By comparison, this commercial establishment clearly has a significant overhead. It sits alongside many other similar businesses that get tourist and local traffic between the hours of 7am and midnight. No really, once my business was established with the owners, they told me to come back at least before midnight. The family lives upstairs- if there’s any time left. I saw local people come in with small repairs and others like myself having personal garments made. Outside the shop hang many gorgeous Asian style garments made from a variety of silks. Inside, clothing hangs from every available spot on the wall. Racks sit in the middle of the large storefront and bolts of fabric drip everywhere. If you don’t see it in the shop, they’ll bring it down from upstairs. Three types of Vietnamese silk are very popular. Every country seems to have it’s own signature silk. The cheapest, called natural silk, has designs which are mostly Asian symbols and can be the same or a different color and comes 90 cm wide. The mid-range iridescent silk, called natural plain, is created by using two different colors for the warp and weft and is often a meter and a half wide. Raw silk is more expensive and is sturdier but only comes in 90 cm widths. There are many other types in between as well. The longer I’m here, the more I want one of each piece I see -flowing silk pants, tailored silk pants, silk pants with simple machine embroidered designs on the cuff, jackets with frogs, jackets with ties, blouses that hang loosely and blouses with traditional Chinese-style collars. This striking consumerism always happens when I travel. I can only modestly regain control when I envision getting up in the morning to clothe myself. In order to survive high school, it’s necessary to avoid choices that elicit stares and giggles. Some things don’t change even when you teach in high school.
Han, the older of the two sisters who runs the shop, was very willing to talk to me about the prospect of making 24 skirts. I had to first communicate the need to receive these within a week. I sketched out my ideas, knowing that by the next day, when my delayed bags would arrive, I would have the sample I made at the last minute at home. Since she was the first person that I actually talked to about my plan, I was eager to get a ballpark figure. I came to Hue mentally prepared to go home with no costumes and work on plan B, which for the last 34 years was really plan A. This mental preparation safeguarded me from becoming overly zealous and involved with a scheme that I might regret eternally. We talked about the design I had made and another design which I sketched-poorly. My sample had 7 pieces. The more pieces you have, the more headaches. I sketched out another idea, while all of these were calling for two layers of silk, the top shorter than the bottom, which actually brought it to more like 9 or 10 pieces. If I used silk, one layer would lay flat and provide no “umph” for a flashy show. Two layers of silk would result in an ethereal effect which better suited a fantasy spaceship- I guess.
Han gave me prices and yardage. She wanted $3.50 in labor for each skirt, assuming we would use my 7-piece pattern after she saw it. My guide, Nhien, was going nuts telling me it was way too much money and that her friend could do it for much less. She wanted me to wait to meet with her before committing to Han. It was almost 3:00pm so off we sped on the bike hoping to find her friend’s shop open.
The doors, now opened, revealed a smiling Shin, at about 4’ 5’ busy sewing and two machines in the windowless space. A Singer, vintage 1940, and a serger with three strands of white thread, the color used, unless you request otherwise, and a table were all that stood in the clean empty space. A single bulb hung from the center and was turned on only when necessary. It wasn’t necessary while I was there. Within the stall, probably 7’ wide, several garments hung above. We discussed the kimonos and she agreed to the job right away. She had made many and did not see a problem with cranking out (my word, not hers) 15 in five days. The price per kimono and big sash was to become $2 each. This whole deal was made while Shin was constantly smiling.
The next day we went to yet another friend of Nhien’s, a woman who cleans in the medical center where Nhien’s mother teaches and works in a lab. Since I had received my baggage, I was able to bring a pattern with a drawing. These people have not seen the patterns that define us as seamstresses in America. Since I needed several sizes and the pattern for pants is very simple, I suggested she take a look at it. She liked it! These people sew from samples. I constantly heard that showing them a piece that you want copied is the best plan. It’s really the best way to communicate. The suggested price for labor for one pair? $.65! The thought of paying her $9.75 was obscene. I told her that was too little, but we’d settle it when they were finished. As odd as it sounds, I had to be careful to not insult her by saying her expectations were ridiculous. It seemed more respectful to just hand her a bigger payment at the end. This region is still incredibly cheap to travel in, even with different pricing structure for outsiders. Lunch tops out at $1.25 with a cold soda for some of the best soup known in…Asia. For a local, the price might be half of what a Westerner will pay.
The next step to this task was buying fabric. I needed 140 meters altogether- yikes. We went to the Dong Ba market, where all the locals shop for everything. At 5’2” I tower above most people here and stick out like a sore thumb even though my hair is black. I had already reckoned with the sizing. At home, I’m a medium and in Vietnam, I’m an XXL. Upstairs in the closely packed market, stacks of fabric are piled endlessly. The aisles are wide enough for a single-person to pass. OSHA would plotz. Name it and they have it. Nhien brought me to a friend, but she didn’t have what I wanted. It’s very common for people to push their friends’ businesses. I had to get a little brave and head down the path to find my own. People are likely to tell you what you want to hear and after a great deal of negotiation, you may find out that such a deal is not possible. “You wait here- I’ll go get for you.” You’ll get something, but it won’t be what you want. After looking over a few booths, which can take a great deal of energy since sellers pummel you with pleas to buy their goods, I found one seller in a typical 5’ wide booth. This man sold only silk. I dinged him down with Nhien’s help and he sold me the 80 meters of silk for the skirts at roughly $2-$2.50 a meter. Another merchant was able to produce 40 meters of matching polyester, not an easy task in any country, for the kimonos. That ran roughly $1.60 a meter. The pants material was easy to find since I only needed 20 meters. Nhien’s efforts were necessary. The pricing structure can be hirer even if you have a Hue Vietnamese accent, so I’ve been told!
This kind of bargaining is not for everyone, but it’s why I decided to do this in the first place. For me, it’s all about the thrill of the hunt. I should sport a bumper sticker on my car that reads, “Anyone can pay full price.” At home, I’m the one who has a regular date with Sally’s (that’s short for Salvation Army) since Wednesday is half price day.
OK- I’m used to gliding through a new project, but there’s always a hitch. Have any of you readers thought of it yet? How would I get all this home? Oy. This obstacle occurred to me once we started to cart off the material from the market. Carrying goods on a motorbike is de rigueur for a Vietnamese. But a Vietnamese with an American on the back is verboten. We had to make three trips. Initially, I had planned to mail the costumes home, knowing that it might take a couple months. In discussing this with the folks back at the hotel, each person recalled a different horror story. My son’s is a doozy. After he returned from two years in South Korea, he mailed home three boxes. The first two arrived as shipped, but the third never arrived. Instead we received- get this- a box filled with personal documents (property deeds and bank statements), a Coach pocketbook, and a box of chocolates from a woman living in California! (Rather than steal her identity, I found her contact info online and mailed her the contents.) I weighed my raw goods in at over 40 pounds. Since gas prices have escalated, weight limits have become restrictive. I decided that if I wanted to see it again, I had to carry it, which would be no small task.
That afternoon, Nhien and I dropped off the 40 meters of polyester to the little lady in the stall and the shiny pants fabric to the cleaning lady in the medical center. I went across the street on my own to deliver the silk and sample pattern for the skirts. (Actually, crossing the street is an unnerving experience. You move slowly as the motorbikes and occasional cars swerve around you. There’s rarely a stoplight or crosswalk, although white stripes do appear on the road. Playing “chicken” becomes real. If you run, people start to laugh. They laughed a lot watching me.) Then things got a little complicated with the skirt design. The older sister said my sample was too difficult to do for the agreed upon price. I wasn’t surprised. We switched to some other great ideas. It was Tuesday. Each woman promised me a sample garment for the next morning and completion of all the needed items by Sunday. But just as I was leaving the skirt lady, I heard, “I can make 15, not 24.” Oh dear. Here comes the bait and switch. I figured that would be 15 fewer pieces we had to make at home so I decided to let it go for now. Arguing for the Vietnamese is just not done. It was best that I left my New York gene pool at home. But it all worked out, and I ended up with 24 skirts.
The Vietnamese people that I came in contact with are very hard working. I heard many stories about how many work seven days a week. On the other hand, if they have something to do, they close up and do it. It’s not a problem. On Saturday afternoon, I tried to see Han in her shop and the doors were closed. Later that night, before midnight, she told me she and her sister went to visit their grandmother who is in her 90s. Many of these people who have shops, live behind or above the shops, reminiscent of New York City many years ago, which makes keeping the shop doors open easier. Giving these folks some business felt good and they certainly appreciated it. Vietnam has a very bright future. The people are young, motivated and eager to please. Since they are a developing nation, which on a basic level means they don’t have home entertainment centers to occupy their time, they have developed the skills needed to make things.
It all worked out so well. The samples were amazing- in multiple sizes with some planned unfinished edges to match to real bodies state-side. The quality of the finished costumes well surpassed my expectation. The cost for labor for 55 garments came to just over $100. The fabric prices couldn’t be beaten, unless I were related to someone in Hue. What’s 40 pounds of extra baggage? Pish!
By Lenore Grunko
