Costumes of The Chinese Lady

We sat down with Sandra Jia, costume designer of The Chinese Lady to get the inside scoop on the research and designing of the costumes you’ll see Afong Moy and Atung wear on stage.

Stages: Cultural inspirations: What specific cultural references or historical elements influenced Afong’s costume design? It looks like possible kintsugi and blue/white porcelain. Are those intentional?

Sandra Jia: Yes! The blue-and-white porcelain reference is entirely intentional. Both kintsugi (Japanese) and Jinshan (Chinese) are traditional East Asian techniques for repairing porcelain and lacquerware using metal powders, often gold, to mend fractures. 

I was deeply drawn to the philosophy behind these techniques and how powerfully they resonate with the narrative of The Chinese Lady. Kintsugi does not attempt to erase damage; instead, it acknowledges breakage and transforms it into something visible, meaningful, and valuable. This concept aligns strongly with Afong Moy’s experience, particularly in relation to the Liberty Bell imagery, where cracks themselves become historical symbols and deliver messages in a poetic way.

Some quotations that informed my thinking include: 

1. “Kintsugi [is] not just a method of repair but also a philosophy. It’s the belief that the breaks, cracks, and repairs become a valuable and esteemed part of the history of an object, rather than something to be hidden. That, in fact, the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.” – Kathleen Tessaro
2. “Kintsugi symbolizes how we must incorporate our wounds into who we are, rather than try to merely repair and forget them.” – David Wong
3. “Why be broken when you can be gold?” – Sarah Rees Brennan
4. “”A break is something to remember, something of value, a way to make the piece more beautiful, rather than something to disguise. They use gold, not invisible superglue because mistakes shouldn’t be considered ugly.” – Penny Reid
5. “Kintsugi is based on the belief that something broken is stronger and more beautiful because of its imperfections, the history attached to it, and its altered state.” — Jo Ann V. Glim

At the beginning of the play, Afong exists primarily through objectification. She is bought, transported, and displayed alongside other goods and placed under the gaze of the audience much like the porcelain objects surrounding her. The porcelain imagery reflects how 19^th century Western audiences consumed “China” as an object: fragile, collectible, ornamental rather than as a living culture. 

Kintsugi and jinshan do not romanticize damage; they acknowledge harm while restoring function. The metaphor suggests that the fractures remain visible, but they become part of a new identity, one shaped by survival, memory, and transformation rather than erasure. Embracing the ugliness and turning it into beauty with a strong heart.

Stages: How do the costume choices reflect Afong’s journey or the themes of the play (being on display, authenticity vs. performance, etc.)? Also, the play addresses that Afong’s clothes “are not her own”—they’re part of her exhibition. How did you balance historical accuracy with the play’s meta-theatrical commentary?

SJ: Afong’s silhouette draws from late Qing dynasty women’s garments, with some exaggeration for theatrical legibility and structural clarity.The structure and proportions remain grounded in Qing-era logic so the body reads historically plausible.The proportions remain grounded in Qing-era logic so the body reads as historically plausible, while the materials, accessories, layering are deliberately theatrical. The costume exists in a space between accuracy and artifice, visually accurate enough to feel real for the history background, but unstable enough to remind the audience that it is something imposed rather than owned.

I intentionally incorporated visual noise and chaotic ornamentation into her costume to reflect cultural misrepresentation and appropriation. Afong is not presented for education or understanding with respect that she was seeking, but for spectacle and consumption. Her costume becomes a container: early in the play, she is dressed as something to be looked at: less a person, more an exotic artifact. The porcelain surface turns her body into an object of value, while the visible seams and fractures reveal the emotional and cultural cost of that display.

As the play moves between authenticity and performance, the costume exposes the tension between who Afong is and who she is required to perform. When layers are removed, the audience becomes aware that what felt “exotic” was carefully constructed. The costume becomes a visual metaphor for translation, projection, and control.

Stages: Does Afong’s costume change throughout the play as she ages from 14 to 82? If so, how?

SJ: Rather than aging Afong literally from 14 to 82, I approached aging as a shift in agency rather than chronology. 

Due to the structure of the play and the constraints of staging, her costume does not dramatically change across time. And that’s also not the focus point that should grab too much attention from the audience. Instead, it consistently serves the same function: display. In this sense, Afong is always wearing a “costume.”

Early in the play, her look is highly symbolic and legible, the costume speaks louder than the person. It presents “China” in a way the audience recognizes and expects. Not only the audience back then but also our audience now.

As the play progresses, the costume becomes simpler, less decorative, more layered and hybridized. It reflects the formation of self-awareness and identity through cultural displacement. The later silhouette becomes more timeless and less ornamental, not following fashion trends, but shifting in who the costume is speaking for. By the end, Afong is no longer performing a fixed image of herself; she exists in a more ambiguous, unresolved visual state.

Stages: Can you walk us through one or two specific details (fabric choice, color palette, accessories, footwear) and why you made those decisions?

SJ: The overall color palette was developed in collaboration with the scenic designer, built around traditional ancient Chinese deep jewel tones and muted metallics: indigo, burgundy, gold, and moss green. These colors reference Chinese decorative arts while maintaining a restrained, vintage quality. As we see the stage as a music box, the color palette also provides a mystery feeling. I was interested in colors that feel luxurious and ornamental, but also heavy, suggesting something curated and collected rather than organic or lived-in. 

For fabrics and accessories, I intentionally emphasized excess and visual chaos. Afong is part of an exhibition; she is showcasing goods, cultures, and fantasies for consumption. The costume feels like everything has been put on at once, creating a sense of spectacle rather than comfort.

One key design focus was surface texture and fit. Early in the play, the costume holds structure but feels slightly awkward, reinforcing that Afong is displaying the costume rather than inhabiting it. Over time, the silhouette becomes closer to her body, implying a gradual reclaiming of physical and psychological agency.

Stages: The play says “Atung is irrelevant”—how does his costume reflect (or subvert) that?

SJ: The text states, “Atung is irrelevant,” but of course he is not irrelevant for this play but his “absence” is important. So I intentionally designed his costume to avoid visual dominance. His look remains traditional, minimal, and largely unchanged throughout the play to remove focus. Rather than erasing him, his neutrality makes his function present, necessary, but rarely acknowledged. He blends into the system that enables the exhibition rather than standing apart from it. His silence for his appearance is also a metaphor for all Chinese/Asian people that were forced to be voiceless in the history time period. 

Stages: How does Atung’s costume relate to or contrast with Afong’s? Are they meant to look like a matched set, or visually distinct?

SJ: Atung and Afong are not designed as a matched set. Afong’s costume carries symbolic and presentational weight; Atung’s does not. Visually, he is simpler, quieter, and more utilitarian. This contrast reinforces the imbalance between the one who is watched and the one who facilitates watching. His lack of visual authority weakens traditional masculine power, which helps the audience understand the source of his suppressed rage.

Stages: What cultural or historical references informed Atung’s design?

SJ: Atung’s costume draws from practical late-Qing men’s garments, filtered through Western expectations of “authenticity.” It is historically grounded but intentionally unremarkable. He is culturally present, but visually sidelined.

Stages: What research did you do to prepare for these designs? Were there specific historical images, artifacts, or sources that guided you?

SJ: This production required extensive historical and cross-cultural research. My research included:

• 19^th century photographs and illustrations of Chinese women 
• Exhibition ephemera and orientalist imagery 
• Late Qing garment construction (men and women) 
• Chinese decorative arts 
• Western exhibition culture 
• 19^th century Western fashion and visual art influenced by “the East” 

Although Afong herself came from a lower social class, the objects and costumes displayed around her represented multiple class fantasies which informed both the layering and ornamentation.

Stages: Did you work with the director, dramaturg, or actors to develop these costumes? Any insights from those conversations?

SJ: I worked closely with the director, scenic designer and the creative team. For this play especially, costume is central to dramaturgy, it visually delivers meaning before text does. A key conceptual challenge was that Afong’s costume is not truly Afong’s. It is a performance within a performance. 

Our conversations centered on: who controls the gaze, when the audience should feel complicit, and how layering and removal support physical storytelling . Scenic and costume design were developed together to ensure a unified visual language across color, texture, and silhouette. 

Stages: What’s one element of the costume design you’re most proud of or excited for audiences to notice?

SJ: Designing a culturally resonant costume connected to my own identity was deeply meaningful. I am most proud of how the silhouette and visual language support storytelling . And how costumes shape how Afong moves, occupies space, and is perceived. 

Stages: What do you hope audiences understand or feel when they see these costumes?

SJ: I hope the audience becomes aware of how quickly and unconsciously we read costumes and cultural symbols, and how easily a body can be turned into an object through visual framing. The designs are meant to feel beautiful and exotic at first, but also slightly uncomfortable, because that beauty is constructed through selection, decoration, and control.

As Afong’s costume shifts, I want audiences to realize that what they initially perceived as “authentic” was actually a performance built for their gaze , a gaze shaped by politics, history, and power structures that still exist today. Ultimately, the costumes invite viewers to reflect on their own role as spectators. Not just what they are looking at, but how and why they are looking.

History becomes a mirror, and the mirror reflects ourselves.