VIDEO

Watch Musician Faouzia Get Ready for Chanel’s Cruise Show in Dubai

Watch Musician Faouzia Get Ready for Chanel’s Cruise Show in Dubai

As the Chanel Cruise show in Dubai saw guests fly in from all around the world, one of them had special preparation to do. Moroccan singer Faouzia arrived at the venue, tucked away in Dubai Creek Harbour, not only as a front row guest, but also as a surprise performer at the show’s after party. Ahead of her soulful performance of the hit song ‘Minefields’ with musical icon John Legend, the 21-year-old singer invited Vogue Arabia to give us a glimpse of her prep time at Dubai’s Mandarin Oriental Jumeirah Hotel.
Her chosen look? A playful ensemble comprising of a black turtleneck bodysuit with pink Chanel monograms all over, and comfy—aka, lounge-worthy—oversized pants. To accessorize and add a bit of bling to her outfit, Faouzia went with Chanel’s signature chain belt. Watch as she practices singing in her hotel room mere minutes before the show, and gets ready for her night out above.
Video: David Colmenares

Day in the Life of Somali Model Rawdah Mohamed

Day in the Life of Somali Model Rawdah Mohamed

She documented human history in For Sama, but for Oscar-nominated Waad Al-Kateab, the fight continues until Syria is free and justice is served.
Waad Al-Kateab wears Jumpsuit, Emilia Wickstead; earrings, Cleopatra’s Bling. Photography: Sebastian Böttcher
Waad Al-Kateab is sitting in the Channel 4 news offices in London. Her hair cut in a neat, long bob, she’s wearing a floral summer dress while the bright morning sun shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her. She looks like any ordinary 29-year-old woman. Yet she’s anything but. In 2011, Al-Kateab was an activist with a camera who went on to film one of the most important documentaries of the 21st century: For Sama. The film spans five years in Syria, starting with the peaceful protests against president Bashar Hafez al-Assad, through the Arab Spring and, ultimately, Al-Kateab being forced to flee the country of her birth in 2016. Unlike some war documentaries, For Sama reveals the full spectrum of humanity beyond the frontlines. While it provides a raw, inside perspective of the horror and systematic attacks on civilians, it also underscores moments of joy. We see Al-Kateab marry Hamza, a doctor who built the hospital in Aleppo where most of the footage is filmed; we witness baby Sama enter the world, and we watch friends and strangers become one community amid darkness and despair.
Al-Kateab, a young filmmaker and citizen journalist who moved to Aleppo to study in 2009, always kept her Sony camcorder rolling, filming approximately 500 hours of footage. It took two years for her and co-director Edward Watts – who she met through her work as journalist for Channel 4 – to cut it down to a 95-minute documentary. For Sama went on to achieve global acclaim, receiving an Academy Award nomination for best documentary feature and winning best documentary at this year’s Bafta awards (where it also set a record for most nominated documentary), as well as four British Independent Film awards. The recognition is testament to Al-Kateab’s talent for showing the human story that so many governments still choose to ignore. Yet, a year after the release For Sama, there is a look of pain and sadness in her eyes. “Nothing has changed in Syria. It’s still happening,” she says. While news coverage of the civil war has decreased and the fanfare surrounding the film has slowed down, the crisis hasn’t ended. “There are still people in Aleppo being shelled and bombed.”
Waad Al-Kateab wears Dress, pants, Simone Rocha; earrings, Cleopatra’s Bling. Photography: Sebastian Böttcher
Does she feel guilty for leaving? Her body closes in on itself; she folds her arms and her eyes well up. “If we were there, we could help a little,” she says, her voice faltering. “One day I risked my life and went to Aleppo. I felt it was the right thing to do. Now, I know it’s the right thing to do but I feel I’m not able to do this. I’m not the same person who left the city in 2016. It’s confusing and the guilt is something I don’t expect I will get away from.” Of course, if she hadn’t left Aleppo, fleeing after Russia threatened to bomb the last hospital where they were working, For Sama may never have reached the big screen. “Sometimes I feel that was right, but there are times when I think, maybe I’m just saying this because I want to make it easier for myself,” she considers. “When I’m talking to someone who is still in Aleppo, I feel so much shame. I’m trying to help but I’m not there. It’s hard.”
Witnessing so much tragedy has left Al-Kateab battling with symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. “My main problem is the nightmares. It’s still very real for me – I’ve never been able to ignore what happened,” she shares. She even feels guilty for having nightmares. “I know that whatever I feel now is nothing compared to what is still going on in Syria. What happened to me is just a little compared to other people. I would love one day to feel some healing, but the only thing that will help me do that is feeling justice for Syria and its people.”
Waad Al-Kateab wears Dress, Worme; shoes, Manolo Blahnik; earrings, Ara Vartanian; ring, Waad Al-Kateab’s own.Photography: Sebastian Böttcher
After fleeing Aleppo, Al-Kateab and her family lived briefly in Turkey before seeking asylum in the UK. That’s the abridged version – the full tale is one full of bureaucracy failings and political injustice.
Her family arrived in London in 2018, after the 2016 Brexit referendum, the result of which was in large part prompted by voters’ issues with border control around an influx of migrants and refugees. “I mean, oh my God,” she says, half laughing about the difficult timing. Yet, ever the pragmatist, Al-Kateab decided to not only be a voice for Syrians, but refugees, too. “I feel that I can affect people in their thinking about what it means to be a refugee, and why it’s important for us to not close ourselves. At the Baftas, I was the only refugee nominated. I felt that I was in a position where I could fight for different issues.”
“The most important thing is to maintain the conversation about Syria… it’s never too late for accountability and justice”
While she feels accepted in the UK, Al-Kateab struggles with displacement. She and her family never intended to leave Aleppo. They risked their lives and the lives of their children – she was pregnant with their second child – to stay in Syria. “When I watch the film I’m able to accept everything that happened to us, but the displacement I can’t feel OK about – when we were saying goodbye to the city…” She trails off briefly. “We were fighting so hard to stay.”
Al-Kateab’s daughters, Sama, who is now four-and-a-half, and Taima, who is three, have settled into life in England. Like her mother, Sama initially experienced nightmares. “We had doctors help her and she is much better. She rarely wakes up at night crying or screaming now,” Al-Kateab shares. The girls have adapted so well that they even have London accents, which Al-Kateab half-facetiously seems less than keen on – not so much for the actual dialect than for their heritage. “They are happy,” she says, smiling. “They speak a mix of English and Arabic. We are trying to keep the Arabic level good, but it’s difficult.”
Waad Al-Kateab wears Dress, Roksanda; shoes, Jimmy Choo; earrings, rings, bracelets, Bar Jewellery; ring, Alighieri. Photography: Sebastian Böttcher
While Sama is too young to remember what she witnessed in Aleppo, her mother aims to keep the girls connected to their roots. Al-Kateab is hopeful. “As Sama grows older, she will be able to understand more. We try to keep the conversation about Aleppo and Syria and I’m trying to tell them stories before bed. I want to keep part of that culture that Hamza and I believe in, and we feel that they should know where they come from, including all the elements like Ramadan and Eid.” One way to understand is to watch her searing documentary. “I don’t know if I will show them the film,” says Al-Kateab. “We need to see when they are ready. Sama has seen the trailer – she loves to watch it.” Naya al Altrash, the daughter of a family friend, Afraa Hashem – both of whom feature in For Sama – was shown the documentary when she was six. “The film answered so many questions for her,” explains Al-Kateab. “She was three-and-half when she left. Now, she is able to see the story as someone from the inside and the outside.”
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Since moving to London – the family was granted leave to remain shortly after arriving – Hamza is no longer practicing as a doctor but is working towards a master’s degree in public health. Al-Kateab continues to work as a journalist for Channel 4, producing stories on justice, Syria, and Covid-19. She is also dedicated to three major ventures: a fiction project related to Syria, a new documentary, and Action for Sama, an ongoing campaign to end the targeting of healthcare facilities in Syria. It’s currently building a case against the Syrian regime and Russia for alleged war crimes – For Sama footage will be used as evidence. “The most important thing is to maintain the conversation about Syria,” Al-Kateab says. “If it’s too late for governments to intervene and stop it, it’s never too late for accountability and justice.”
While Al-Kateab may feel guilt for not being in Syria, she continues to fight for Aleppo from afar. “My main hope is to see something changed in Syria soon. I hope we can return to the place we fought for,” she says. Her dream is for citizens to feel empowered. “That’s why this whole Syrian revolution started. If we felt that we were being respected, or empowered, I think the situation wouldn’t have come to this.” After her years staring death in the eye, her words are poignant. “When I was in Aleppo, I was forced to live as if every moment was my last. Until today, I feel that this is the best thing to do. There is not a lot of time in the future so everything you want to do, do now. Tell everyone you love that you love them, right now. Don’t hide any of these feelings because when you have lost them, there is no more time.” 
Read more: Meet The Beirut Fashion Designers Refusing To Give Up Hope

Egyptian Jeweler Azza Fahmy Breaks Down Her First-Ever Autobiography

Egyptian Jeweler Azza Fahmy Breaks Down Her First-Ever Autobiography

After three years, Azza Fahmy, chairwoman and creative director of Azza Fahmy Jewellery, finally finished writing her autobiography. The book explores all stages of her life from a different perspective and gives a personal overview of Egypt through many years and locations. “I wrote my autobiography to be an educational and cultural experience for the new generations. I want readers to benefit from the historical and geographical content. The most important for me is to have it as a readable and beneficial experience for everyone who wants to start a project or learn a craft,” she says. “Writing my autobiography gave me the opportunity to discover a lot about myself. It was the first time I thought about all the things I’ve gone through over the years. It was a challenging journey, but more beautiful than I could have imagined.”
Azza Fahmy’s autobiography. Photo: Courtesy of Azza Fahmy Jewellery
The book doesn’t only talk about Fahmy as a designer, but also gives an insight into her life as a daughter. She narrates the smallest details of her “legendary world” with her father, who instilled in her a love of knowledge and taught her many valuable lessons before he passed away when she was 13. She explains the transitional period from her luxurious childhood to the life of a simple Egyptian family.
Fifty years ago, Fahmy started her journey to becoming one of the most recognized jewelry designers in the Arab world. From the beginning, she set an important goal for herself: translating the authentic cultures of the societies of the Middle East into designs and introducing them to the world. In doing this, she did extensive research on traditional handicrafts and the continual efforts to preserve them. Being one of the most influential women in Egypt, she traveled around the globe as a cultural ambassador for her country.
An image from the book. Photo: Courtesy of Azza Fahmy Jewellery
Fahmy’s dedication and captivating designs have gained global recognition. She has a diverse list of clients and fans from around the globe, including royalty and celebrities. Fahmy works in partnership with her daughters Amina and Fatima Ghali, the CEO of the brand.
Read Next: Saudi Designer Daneh Buahmad Celebrates a Decade Since Her Brand’s Launch
Originally published in the October 2021 issue of Vogue Arabia

Cover Story: Celebrating Enduring Couture That Continues to Thrive in an Era Rocked By a Pandemic

Cover Story: Celebrating Enduring Couture That Continues to Thrive in an Era Rocked By a Pandemic

Just like a century ago, when haute couture persisted through world wars, it continues to thrive today in an era rocked by a pandemic – albeit forever changed.
Malika El Maslouhi wears dress, shoes, Iris Van Herpen; headpiece, Iris Van Herpen X Casey Curran; nail artwork, Iris Van Herpen X Eichi Matsunaga. Photographed by Thibault-Theodore for Vogue Arabia
If haute couture had a patron goddess, she would have to be Demeter’s daughter Persephone, who cyclically died only to be reborn. As long ago as 1965, when what Diana Vreeland termed the “youthquake” was rattling the planet, the New York Times noted that “every 10 years the doctors assemble at the bedside of French haute couture and announce that death is imminent.” Around the same time, French actor Brigitte Bardot rejected Coco Chanel’s offer to dress her because haute couture – the bombshell complained – “was for grannies.”

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Bardot’s snub was understandable. Haute couture had been predicated on “older, outdated ideas,” Schiaparelli’s creative director Daniel Roseberry says. Chanel was a hoary 82 and haute couture itself – a government-controlled appellation – was more than a hundred years old. Though the antecedents of the haute couturier go back to Louis XIV in the 17th century, the French profession’s true founding father was Charles Frederick Worth, who in the 1800s introduced such novelties as the designer label and seasonal live presentations.
Malika El Maslouhi wears dress, Alexandre Vauthier. Photographed by Thibault-Theodore for Vogue Arabia
Though, like a fairytale enchantment, the maison Worth lasted one century, it was the venerable master’s spawn – the fantasist Paul Poiret, the functionalist Chanel, the purist Madeleine Vionnet – who ushered haute couture into the modern age. Persevering through the first world war, the Spanish flu, and the Great Depression, the French couturiers not only dressed “tout-Paris,” but also exported hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of their coveted handsewn confections. “History teaches us,” Dior creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri observes, “that couture is extremely resilient and, above all, adaptable.” The second world war and the Nazi occupation of Paris, however, posed a nearly terminal threat to the industry. Vionnet’s vast operations closed permanently in 1939. Chanel shuttered her doors. Her rival, the avant garde Elsa Schiaparelli, escaped to the US. But the enterprising Lucien Lelong stayed open, defiantly thwarting Hitler’s grandiose scheme to transplant all of Paris fashion to Berlin or Vienna. So miraculous was the Lelong-orchestrated wartime survival of haute couture that in 1945, Diana Vreeland exhorted an assistant to return from Paris with a single fabric rose as evidence of the rarefied institution’s continued existence.
Malika El Maslouhi wears dress, Fendi Haute Couture. Photographed by Thibault-Theodore for Vogue Arabia
More than Vreeland’s handmade rose (probably from the fournisseur Guillet), what bloomed from the ashes of the second world war was a fecund garden of “women- flowers,” wrote Christian Dior, who founded his maison in 1946, all wearing sumptuous “skirts like petals.” Before long, the Dior empire accounted for three-fifths of all haute couture sales. The remainder came from the other fabled houses of haute couture’s post-war golden age – Fath, Dessès, Heim, Balmain, Griffe, Rochas, Balenciaga – whose workrooms were as intricately structured as their lavish dresses, and whose formidable directrices were as lofty as a ballgown’s price.
Malika El Maslouhi wears dress, Ashi Couture. Photographed by Thibault-Theodore for Vogue Arabia
Haughty personnel and intimidating invoices were just two elements of the old-school haute couture culture that drove legions of women in the 60s and 70s out of the storied salons and into brand- new, funky boutiques selling ready-to-wear. Yves Saint Laurent had initiated the pret-a-porter movement in 1966 with the opening of the first Rive Gauche store, on Rue de Tournon. Trendsetting shops, some as far afield as London and New York, soon usurped haute couture’s function as (in Viktor & Rolf’s words) “a laboratory of ideas and experimentation.” Predictably, by 1973, the doomsayers of Time magazine were reporting that the enterprise of haute couture was “breathing very hard.”
Malika El Maslouhi wears dress, Guo Pei Couture. Photographed by Thibault-Theodore for Vogue Arabia
As before, the rumors of haute couture’s extinction were greatly exaggerated. During the bullish decade of the 80s, Karl Lagerfeld revived the ailing Chanel empire with his cheeky reinterpretations of the house’s hallowed codes. And with a heady eleven francs to the dollar, nouveau riche Americans flocked to Paris on the Concorde, frenetically buying up whole collections and fervently embracing newcomer Christian Lacroix. Haute couture reclaimed its magical ability to serve – to invoke Roseberry’s metaphor – as a “love language” spoken between designer and client.
Malika El Maslouhi wears dress, Viktor & Rolf Haute Couture; earrings, Hugo Kreit. Photographed by Thibault-Theodore for Vogue Arabia
In the 90s, after a market crash, recession, and Gulf war had yet again incapacitated the industry, LVMH chairman and CEO Bernard Arnault played Prince Charming to haute couture’s Sleeping Beauty. Arnault’s ingenuity lay in transforming haute couture from an entity that served not just private customers, but a brand. A demographic even larger than Arnault might have calculated began participating in haute couture’s previously esoteric rites – viewing collections, judging them, sharing them, and buying spin-off, logo-emblazoned status items, via the proliferating digital platforms that propelled fashion into the 21st century.
Malika El Maslouhi wears dress, Viktor & Rolf Haute Couture; earrings, Hugo Kreit. Photographed by Thibault-Theodore for Vogue Arabia
Responding to the rapidly changing environment, the antiquated trade organization Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture morphed into the Fédération de la Haute Couture et de la Mode and safeguarded its future by modernizing its rules of admission, essentially unchanged since the time of Lucien Lelong. As a result, its roster of haute couturiers expanded from about 15 members in the early 2000s to 100 today. This updating of the bylaws has allowed many esteemed out-of-towners, such as Iris van Herpen, Elie Saab, Fendi (under Kim Jones’s direction), and Victor & Rolf to become “correspondent members,” and Guo Pei, with her new studio in Paris, and Christophe de Vilmorin, fresh out of design school, to become “guest members.” Rallying in the face of the pandemic and lockdowns this past January, 28 of the Fédération’s houses resourcefully presented collections during the three-day SS21 haute couture showings (albeit virtually).
Malika El Maslouhi wears Lion Vénitien Necklace, earrings in 18ct white gold set with diamonds, Chanel High jewelry. Photographed by Thibault-Theodore for Vogue Arabia
Paradoxically, rather than hamper designers, the limitations imposed by Covid-19 freed them to explore new formats and engage with artists in other media. “Covid forced us to break through traditional barriers and explore new ways of presenting our conceptual ideas,” say Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren from Viktor & Rolf, whose creations addressed sustainability as well as the need for a “lighthearted escape into fantasy.” And, just as Elsa Schiaparelli, in the 1930s, enriched her own work by collaborating with Leonor Fini, Jean Cocteau, and Christian Bérard, so the present-day couturiers overcame Covid-induced constraints by merging their imaginations with the aesthetic worlds of filmmakers Anton Corbijn (Chanel), Nick Knight (Valentino), Matteo Garrone (Dior), and Christophe Tiphaine (Schiaparelli). “Fashion has always been the realm of the imagination,” Chiuri explains, “So it is natural for me to turn to a film format to express my project through visual stories.” For Roseberry, whose sensual collection was cleverly compressed into an Instagram-friendly three minute, 52 second video, the goal was “to create a format and a way of showing the collection that really lets the viewer experience it.”
Malika El Maslouhi wears dress, headband, earrings, rings, Dior Haute Couture. Photographed by Thibault-Theodore for Vogue Arabia
The pandemic may have simply accelerated an inevitable evolution. Viktor & Rolf plans to “become more digitally focused, creating content that caters to each platform.” Elie Saab foresees a “mix between smaller, less hectic, live fashion shows and digital content.” Twenty-four-year-old Vilmorin, who gave birth to his brand during lockdown, doesn’t even see a need for “all that mise-en-scène and spectacle” of a runway event. Says Roseberry, “It’s a total reset.”
Malika El Maslouhi wears dress, shoes, Jean Paul Gaultier Haute Couture. Photographed by Thibault-Theodore for Vogue Arabia
No longer a resource-draining marketing exercise, haute couture – the ultimate “slow fashion” – now has the capacity to turn a substantial profit, as robust economies around the globe generate new clients, whose fittings might even take place through Zoom. “Covid has made people rush less and appreciate more the value of things,” Saab reflects. Among the freshly minted devotees of the most extravagant finery on earth are the very young, and – in a development that the sybaritic Sun King himself would surely appreciate – men. Fendi, Valentino, and Vilmorin all showcased their offerings on male and female models. As Ralph Toledano, president of the Fédération de la Haute Couture et de la Mode, stated, “It seems that there are no longer any boundaries to couture.”
Read Next: Editor’s Letter: Why Our May Issue is Dedicated to the Highest Artistries and Haute Couture
Originally published in the May 2021 issue of Vogue Arabia
DOP and video editing Cheyne Tillier-DalyPhotographer Thibault-ThéodoreStyle Lisa JarvisFashion director Katie TrotterHair Charlie Le MinduMakeup Annabelle Petit at Wise & TalentedNails Lora de Sousa Creative producer Laura PriorProduction Weird Fishes StudioProducer Réda Ait Retouching Curro VerdugoAnalog operator Maëlle JoignePainter Damien CacciaStudio assistant Tom KleinbergStyle assistant Francesca Riccardi Set assistants Antoine Dugrand Castaignede, Amin Bidar, Thomas JardinProduction assistant Adélina Bichet ElzeyModel Malika El Maslouhi at Viva Model

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