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中国校服百年进化史
It’s not unusual to hear complaints about the state of school uniforms. In 2015 China Daily remarked that Chinese netizens felt their uniforms “could claim the global crown” in ugliness.
The newspaper cited a Weibo survey in which just 10 percent of respondents said they looked good， while 44.6 percent were happy to call school uniforms ugly—slack， shapeless track suits with “no aesthetic value at all.”
Scrapping uniforms altogether is an unlikely solution， though. While some deplore the homogeneity， others are loath to let personal appearance become a distraction. In March 2017， one school in Fujian had to ban imported sneakers， explaining that students were constantly one-upping each other with expensive footwear.
While schools such as the Zhengzhou Experimental School are beginning to explore clothing more clearly defined by gender， others are importing styles from the UK and South Korea. Schools have even hosted fashion shows to help improve the aesthetics of mandatory school attire.
But as inequality grows in society， uniforms are becoming yet another form of status symbol—then again， how students dress has always had important political and social implications in China.
Indeed， uniforms were first introduced in the fallout of the crippling defeat of the Second Opium War as part of an urgent call to learn from the West. Encouraged by missionaries， Qing officials sponsored numerous “new” schools in Beijing， Fuzhou and Shanghai in which foreign languages， science and military knowledge replaced traditional texts. Clad in robes， hats and boots， their students wore uniforms similar to the attire of government officials—albeit without the badges of rank—to show that their education was in the service of government （women were not allowed to enroll）.
By the time of the Republic of China （1912 – 1949）， alterations in apparel and customs became critical components of the government’s larger social and political reform. Besides abolishing the “Manchu queue” and female foot binding， the government stipulated that official ceremonial wear for men should be a black tuxedo with silk hat. In the same year， the Ministry of Education stated that， “male uniforms should resemble that of common military training wear，” based on Western officer garb.
Students returning from Japan brought new features， including stand-up collars. Originally based on Prussian military designs， they were called “students’ suits” （學生装） in China. But despite a newfound eagerness to modernize the nation through outside ideas， the Republic was also characterized by strong nationalistic sentiments； regulations expected that “school uniforms should be mainly made of plain， strong materials produced in the country.”
It’s not unusual to hear complaints about the state of school uniforms. In 2015 China Daily remarked that Chinese netizens felt their uniforms “could claim the global crown” in ugliness.
The newspaper cited a Weibo survey in which just 10 percent of respondents said they looked good， while 44.6 percent were happy to call school uniforms ugly—slack， shapeless track suits with “no aesthetic value at all.”
Scrapping uniforms altogether is an unlikely solution， though. While some deplore the homogeneity， others are loath to let personal appearance become a distraction. In March 2017， one school in Fujian had to ban imported sneakers， explaining that students were constantly one-upping each other with expensive footwear.
While schools such as the Zhengzhou Experimental School are beginning to explore clothing more clearly defined by gender， others are importing styles from the UK and South Korea. Schools have even hosted fashion shows to help improve the aesthetics of mandatory school attire.
But as inequality grows in society， uniforms are becoming yet another form of status symbol—then again， how students dress has always had important political and social implications in China.
Indeed， uniforms were first introduced in the fallout of the crippling defeat of the Second Opium War as part of an urgent call to learn from the West. Encouraged by missionaries， Qing officials sponsored numerous “new” schools in Beijing， Fuzhou and Shanghai in which foreign languages， science and military knowledge replaced traditional texts. Clad in robes， hats and boots， their students wore uniforms similar to the attire of government officials—albeit without the badges of rank—to show that their education was in the service of government （women were not allowed to enroll）.
By the time of the Republic of China （1912 – 1949）， alterations in apparel and customs became critical components of the government’s larger social and political reform. Besides abolishing the “Manchu queue” and female foot binding， the government stipulated that official ceremonial wear for men should be a black tuxedo with silk hat. In the same year， the Ministry of Education stated that， “male uniforms should resemble that of common military training wear，” based on Western officer garb.
Students returning from Japan brought new features， including stand-up collars. Originally based on Prussian military designs， they were called “students’ suits” （學生装） in China. But despite a newfound eagerness to modernize the nation through outside ideas， the Republic was also characterized by strong nationalistic sentiments； regulations expected that “school uniforms should be mainly made of plain， strong materials produced in the country.”