This week marks one year since I moved to the UAE, undoubtedly one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself and my family. I love being here for many reasons, as an Arab much of the traditional life here feels familiar. But one thing I didn’t see coming was my growing love for the abaya.
Historians trace the abaya’s roots back thousands of years to ancient Mesopotamia. Some historians believe it entered Saudi Arabia some 80 years ago via travellers from Iraq and Iran. Nomadic desert communities quickly embraced it, favouring its simplicity and practicality. Eventually, Bedouins brought it to urban centres, and it evolved into what we now recognise as a cornerstone of Gulf identity – part cultural symbol, part religious tradition.
Growing up in London, the abaya was never part of my wardrobe. There was simply no need for it, no cultural space where it felt relevant. But here, it’s found a way to be woven into my wardrobe.
It’s not that the abaya was foreign to me. My bibi, my Iraqi grandmother, would wear it outdoors everywhere she went. On my mother’s side in Syria, I saw the abaya take on a different kind of meaning. Visitors from the Gulf brought it with them to my mother's hometown in Zabadani, a scenic mountain escape that became popular among travellers. These guests often returned year after year, forming deep friendships with local families and over time, gifting abayas to the women they grew close to. During multiple summers in Zabadani, I would admire the garment worn by the visitors and soon enough adopted by many local Syrian women too.
As a child, I loved their elegance, how they shimmered with understated glamour. But I never thought they'd be for me. In all honesty, I felt too “western” to be part of the abaya club.
So what changed?
First, let’s talk about its practicality in my new environment. In the UAE’s heat, a lightweight crepe or chiffon abaya wins hands down over a formal blazer. It shields you from the sun, dust and humidity while staying breathable and effortlessly comfortable.
But more than its function, what’s won me over to the abaya is how fashionable and stylish it can be – thanks mostly to how young Emiratis are styling theirs. In fact, women across the Gulf have progressively modernised the abaya. First came elaborate sequins and embroidery and, in the last decade or so, colours such as brown, navy and taupe have been introduced to everyday abayas. Recently, with a boom in women designers from the region, more avant-garde cuts have appeared; an abaya I recently bought has laser-cut scalloped ruffles and balloon-cut sleeves.
Whether styled open or closed, the magic of a good abaya is in the details – the choice of fabric, the subtle embroidery and the art of accessorising. Across the Gulf, women have perfected the balance of simplicity, elegance and flair. There’s a quiet sophistication in the way abayas are paired with trendy trainers, designer handbags and delicate jewellery.
The result is an outfit that is steeped in tradition and practicality, but constantly evolving with trendsetting elements. I often wear an abaya to the mall, where I usually want to step out with little effort or thought about what I'm wearing. I also want to stay comfortably cool outside and warm in the chilly air-conditioned stores. The abaya ticks all the boxes and the look takes little effort, so many women focus on accessorising well. It’s the art of balancing tradition with fashion.
That balance is something I’ve always valued. I love dressing down a formal outfit and dressing up a casual one – heels with jeans, trainers with dresses. The modern abaya lends itself perfectly to that styling. I’ve noticed a recent trend of loafers with abayas, which transforms the look from traditional to contemporary cool.
Then there’s how it makes you feel. You can’t slouch in an abaya. It straightens your posture and adds a certain poise. The fabric floats as you walk, catching the breeze, adding softness and femininity even to the shortest strides. I'm someone who spent most of my adolescence allergic to the idea of femininity and leant towards a tomboy aesthetic, but I've really embraced how effortlessly feminine the abaya is and how it makes me feel – always offering a touch of grandeur.
Wearing the abaya has become more than just a nod to my heritage or the climate of the UAE. It's become a quiet kind of joy and comfort, a reminder that modern elegance and tradition don’t have to be opposites.
