Ramadan carries a life of its own. The rhythm of daily living shifts so profoundly that even a phone call after midnight becomes somehow acceptable. Altered schedules, meal times, and social routines inevitably affect what we wear. Since fashion functions within a seasonal structure and preparations begin months before a season arrives, I began to question what “Ramadan collections” truly mean in the Saudi context. What defines a garment as Ramadan-specific, and on what basis can we read, analyze, and critique such collections? The issue is not existential. The answer is already present, widely recognized, and socially agreed upon, yet only in an unspoken way. It has not been formulated in precise language nor developed into a structured critical framework from which analysis can proceed. Establishing that clarity feels essential, particularly at this stage, as the foundations of Saudi fashion discourse continue to take shape.

I posed this question to everyone. I asked the public, or consumers in this case, as well as designers and stylists on social media, what elements define a Ramadan collection. There was an almost unanimous agreement that the clothing should be “modest” and cut in “loose silhouettes.” Yet these terms are far too broad within the language of fashion, and they cannot sustain the specificity of Ramadan as a culturally patterned season. Such elements can easily be found in the collections of The Row and Michael Kors, and they appear routinely on runways in Paris, Milan, and Riyadh. This makes them insufficiently precise to define Ramadan attire on their own. Of course, this does not suggest that audiences or designers lack awareness. Rather, there was an implicit assumption that I was referring to the more specific elements embedded within the commonly accepted image of Ramadan dress, namely Jalabiyas and traditional Saudi garments such as the Kurta and the Miqta’, among others.

But at the same time, Saudi brands unveiled their Ramadan 2026 collections. Mona Al Shebil’s collection, titled Gabga, appeared largely inconsistent, not from an aesthetic or creative standpoint, but in terms of its relationship to Ramadan attire as an extension of traditional dress. The presence of lace and corsetry suggested a closer affinity with the Edwardian era than Ramadan itself. However, It is important to note that the collection also relied on velvet and a palette of gold, brown, and deep burgundy tones. This indicates an attempt to craft a seasonal statement while responding to the visual codes commonly associated with the month. It reveals that the implicit image of Ramadan dress, rooted in inherited clothing traditions, is open to reinterpretation in a highly globalized manner, particularly when approached by a designer such as Al Shebil, whose influence on the local market is significant. You may wonder now, is this a problem? Well, yes but it is difficult to disregard a designer’s desire to merge her work with what is often described as a contemporary or modern language, along with the possibility that she aims to create a piece capable of extending beyond the temporal boundaries of Ramadan and appealing to broader communities.

Some of the audience and stylist responses included suggestions that could easily be categorized as unpopular opinions. Among them was the call for a generalized “Eastern aesthetic,” a notion that, while evocative, tends to collapse distinct traditional dress systems into a single, decontextualized aesthetic. Yet this very suggestion can be observed in Abadia’s Ramadan collection, which drew inspiration from Morocco. This stands in direct tension with the brand’s stated identity as an entity committed to preserving the craftsmanship of the Arabian Peninsula. Another comment proposed greater variety through silhouettes such as jumpsuits and materials like denim. The relative scarcity of such suggestions likely reflects a broader reluctance to move too far away from the cultural spirit associated with Ramadan. Still, those more aligned with contemporary fashion sensibilities will inevitably look toward the future rather than the past.

Before raising the question on social media, I had already discussed it with a number of fashion editors and critics in Saudi Arabia, including Hadeel Hussain and Mashael Al Dakheel. As enriching as those conversations were, they revealed that the subject had rarely been examined with precision. It was often met with implicit assumptions and a reliance on aesthetic codes that have simply been repeated over the years.

I did not confine the inquiry to professionals or audiences. During iftar with my grandmother on the first day of Ramadan, I asked her the same question in a different form. I asked what people used to wear during Ramadan. She pointed to herself and replied, “Just like what I am wearing now.” She was dressed in a striped white miqtaʿ. That question opened into a long family conversation about what people once wore in Makkah and Al Qassim. Memories surfaced one after another, and the discussion continued well beyond the Taraweeh prayer. My grandmother is aware of my interest in the fashion industry, yet the nostalgia tied to her memories of Ramadan and traditional clothing was stronger than any attempt to turn the moment into an intellectual exchange for the sake of my writing. I did not gather detailed historical insight from her about women’s Ramadan attire in the past or the motivations behind it. But that was not a problem. I knew there was someone else who could answer that question.

Ramadan, while inviting a state of calm, reflection, and spirituality, also propels one into movement and social engagement. Family visits, preparing iftar or suhoor, and walking through traditional districts such as Al Balad in Jeddah or Al Muaiqiliyah and Al Tameer in Riyadh all shape the rhythm of the month. Both dimensions suggest that Ramadan attire must be practical above all else. But practicality was relatively absent from public responses compared to the emphasis on modesty. That absence may stem from the common assumption that practicality is synonymous with loose silhouettes. Yet within fashion, this connection is neither precise nor self-evident. One need only look at recent haute couture collections by Valentino, particularly those designed by Pierpaolo Piccioli, to see how expansive silhouettes can be heavily adorned with embroidery, beading, or layered chiffon.

Although functionality has historically been central to traditional dress, elegance remains deeply embedded in Saudi identity. The expectation today is therefore not simply practicality, but a balance. Ramadan collections are anticipated either to merge function with refinement or to present a range that consciously accommodates both qualities.

Nearly every element cited by the public could easily be found in a European or American fashion with no relation to Ramadan. This suggests that practicality, modesty, elegance, loose silhouettes, and even a broadly defined Eastern aesthetic cannot in themselves produce a garment that is read as Ramadan-specific unless they operate within the systems that originally shaped traditional dress. Ramadan attire, therefore, is not a collection of isolated traits or attributes, but a design that evolves without severing its connection to the structural design system of heritage, meaning the logic of construction, the relationship between fabric and body, and the garment’s functional and social symbolism. This can be observed in Nora Al Shaikh’s Ramadan collection this year. The designer used heritage as her foundational framework, drawing on its fluid silhouettes, embroidery, and practical, comfortable fabrics, while stepping away from her typically deconstructive approach and the excessive modernization of the garment, even though she incorporated corsetry in approximately two looks.

To ground this argument historically, I turned to Dr. Laila Al Bassam, a heritage expert and professor of the history of fashion and traditional textiles. I asked her what women and men used to wear during Ramadan. She explained that after the discovery of oil and the resulting social transformation, Saudi women gradually moved away from traditional dress and transitioned into modern clothing while maintaining the modest appearance that had long distinguished them. They wore long-sleeved dresses made of high-quality European fabrics, as well as long skirts, while continuing to follow global fashion trends through international catalogues. As she clarified, “Clothing during Ramadan did not differ from what was worn in other months of the year.”

 This research revealed that within Saudi collective memory, Ramadan was not historically marked by a distinct form of dress. My grandmother similarly recalled that people simply wore what they usually wore, perhaps buying something new in celebration of the month. This stands in contrast to what occurs today. Throughout the year, wardrobes may alternate between traditional and modern clothing, yet during Ramadan many return to Jalabiyas and Thobes, both women and men. This suggests that when Saudi women moved away from traditional dress in the past, they later chose to return to it through Ramadan. A comparable seasonal pattern can be observed during Saudi Founding Day and National Day. While the revival of traditional attire during those occasions is understandable and explicitly tied to expressions of cultural pride and identity, its resurgence during Ramadan appears more implicit, the cumulative result of a relatively recent shift that may be driven by similar motivations.

Dr. Al Bassam explained that interest in wearing traditional dress during Ramadan began roughly twenty-five years ago or more, with garments initially arriving from Lebanon. She also recalled that the Bahraini designer Kubra Al Qaseer presented pieces made in India at Harvey Nichols for Ramadan. This was enough to encourage Dr. Al Bassam to reinforce the movement herself. She continued, “I began designing and producing an annual Ramadan collection titled Tiraz in 2001. I continued for about fifteen years and succeeded in developing traditional Saudi dress in ways that reflected the spirit of the original garment.”

The return to heritage has become a recurring pattern during Ramadan, not only within the fashion industry but across other creative fields as well, particularly television. One can clearly observe the prevalence of series set in earlier historical periods and shows that incorporate traditional aesthetics into their set design. This suggests that Ramadan has gradually shifted from a season associated with specific visual motifs such as crescents, lanterns, carpets, and gold tones into a moment through which we revisit our original forms and collective narratives. These productions do not rely on the past merely as a dramatic backdrop or decorative device. They also seek to document dialects, customs, and traditions, alongside the evolution of dress within the Kingdom. Inevitably, this cultural tendency establishes its own set of expectations that shape the contemporary Ramadan aesthetic.

When I asked Dr. Al Bassam how Ramadan collections should be approached today, she emphasized that “The most important element is that a design derived from heritage must convey a sense of origin.” In her own work, she preserved structural lines while blending elements from more than one traditional garment. For example, she presented the abaya with the sleeve construction of the thobe, altered colors and fabrics, and employed hand embroidery using traditional motifs adapted to modern textiles. Even in near replicas, she changed the fabric from cotton to silk without ever departing from the essence of the original. As she explained, her goal was to demonstrate that heritage can remain viable within a contemporary context.

Dr. Al Bassam’s perspective makes it clear that Ramadan attire is not governed solely by seasonal aesthetics or visual codes associated with the month. It remains tied to traditional dress and its structural conditions. As one of the first Saudi scholars to document the history of dress in the Kingdom, she emphasized that “What distinguishes our heritage are its structural lines, and preserving them is essential, along with its colors and ornamental vocabulary. Updating fabrics allows for variation and is a necessary component of renewal.” She added, “My designs were acquired by prominent figures at the highest levels in the country. They were also purchased by members of the Western diplomatic community, including the wife of the Italian ambassador and a senior official at the American embassy.” Her remarks suggest that traditional Saudi dress does not require excessive modernization or the adoption of a globalized language in order to move beyond its geography and communicate its meaning elsewhere.

When reading Ramadan collections today, we can therefore adopt a critical framework built upon three interrelated dimensions. The first concerns the degree to which a design demonstrates awareness of the structural system of traditional dress, its lines and functions, whether through historical continuity or thoughtful reinterpretation. The second evaluates the level of responsible modernization that allows the garment to operate in the present socially, aesthetically, and productively without reducing heritage to decorative fragments detached from their structural logic and social context. The third considers how the design responds to the lived realities of Ramadan, both social and intimate. Ramadan attire, as we have defined it, is a cumulative expression of time and heritage, then this framework may also be applied to contemporary traditional dress beyond the month itself.

Finally, in light of the growing presence of global luxury houses during the Ramadan season, including Dior, Fendi, Louis Vuitton, and Gucci, I did not overlook another important question. I asked Dr. Al Bassam what such brands should prioritize when presenting a Ramadan collection. Her response was direct and unequivocal: “Even a global brand must study Saudi heritage, draw from it, and preserve its spirit within its designs.”

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