JP/Dian Kuswandini

Who would choose to drape themselves in traditional fabrics instead of wearing modern outfits as day-to-day wear? Adiati Arifin Siregar. Whenever she steps out of the house, she is wearing traditional cloth, whether batik, embroidered or woven.

"I know people think I'm such a weird or old-fashioned person because I wear *traditional* fabrics wherever I go," Adiati says, adding with a chuckle, "They probably laugh at me too, but I don't care."

Those who do laugh at her will probably stop once they learn what's behind her clothing devotion.

"I just don't wear them without any purpose," says Adiati, who is chairwoman of the Indonesian Traditional Textile Society (Himpunan Wastraprema). "I have a mission, and that is to persuade Indonesian women to wear these precious heritage pieces with pride."

Given that once upon a time, Adiati was one of those women who paid little attention to traditional textiles, it's almost unbelievable to see how she's now fully throwing herself into it.

"I've always loved to wear traditional fabrics, don't get me wrong," she says. "But back then, I only valued them based on my personal taste - whether I liked them or not. I didn't see deeper into their priceless value."

It was only from 1993 to 1997 when she was far from her homeland that Adiati began to see things differently. Back then, as the wife of the then Indonesian ambassador to the United States, she was invited to an event on Indonesian traditional textiles in Washington DC.

"I met with some foreigners who brought their collections of traditional Indonesian textiles to the event," she recalls. "But instead of just displaying their collections; they shared all this knowledge about the textiles with the audience - the history, the meanings of the motifs ... everything.

"And it truly blew my mind. As a representative of my country, I should have known better than them. But I didn't, and I felt ashamed," says Adiati, whose husband Arifin Siregar was also Indonesian trade minister from 1988 to 1993.

The experience incited her curiosity about her country's traditional textiles, and she started to develop a deep appreciation for them.

After returning from the United States, Adiati found herself a new place in Wastraprema, an organization established in 1977 that unites collectors, experts and admirers of traditional textiles. The organization's name is taken from the Sanskrit words wastra (cloth) and prema (love). And it was in Wastraprema that Adiati began to make things happen, turning her thoughts into actions. Along with her fellow organization members, Adiati set out to enhance and encourage the appreciation and preservation of traditional Indonesian textiles.

"What has become my concern is that we're rich in cultural heritage, but our own people are unable to see it and are not interested in learning about it," says Adiati, who says she's only a textile admirer, not collector.

People from other countries, on the other hand, she adds, not only appreciate Indonesian heritage, but are also willing to learn about it.

"They *foreigners* have carried out studies and written books on *aspects of* Indonesian heritage to the point that we even learn from them about our own culture." The funny thing, she adds, is that "our people seem not to care about our own cultural heritage. But when other countries claim our heritage as theirs *such as batik, music instrument angklung and traditional performance reog*, we get so angry."

Learning from these phenomena, she says, Wastraprema strives to create a sense of nationwide solidarity through traditional fabrics. Through its more than 300 members, the organization has worked to bring the country's indigenous textiles closer to the public through a range of activities, including exhibitions, lectures, seminars and cultural excursions to textile centers.

"Of course, we can't push people to wear traditional fabrics. But we have to find ways to steal their attention."

And stealing attention, she says, starts with the members of Wastraprema themselves, who garb themselves in traditional fabrics every day. "We want to show people that traditional textiles still deserve a place in our everyday life."

Adiati admits their task is not an easy one, considering what they face in this era of globalization. Most people, she says, prefer modern outfits such as jeans and perceive wearing traditional styles as impractical.

"Who would want to wear cloth if they have to run to catch the bus? Of course they would prefer pants," Adiati jokes. "But now, look at it this way: If we're able to find a compromise with current demands, then *traditional textiles* can survive, thus they can be preserved."

To find such a compromise means, as she points out, to transform the fabrics into more modern fashion apparel. "We know how our local designers have been West-oriented. But that's fine, we can still urge them to use local materials," says Adiati, who's also chairwoman of the Indonesian Cancer Foundation (YKI).

And that's just what Wastraprema is doing: Embracing designers and fashion schools in its activities to promote the use of traditional fabrics. Recently, the organization also launched a traditional textile cultural school program, which is expected to increase young people's interest in Indonesia's rich textile heritage.

"We fail to understand our own traditional textiles because we were never exposed to them at school. Therefore, we want to go to schools to spread this knowledge, making *the textiles* part of *education*," Adiati says.

"Once they feel that the textiles belong to them, they will be proud of them and start to love them."

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