“Even the snails had their rahvariided on!” That’s what Kaili Salu from the Melbourne-based Kodu Kaja choir said after returning from the Song Festival in Tallinn — and frankly, who could argue?
This year’s Laulu- ja Tantsupidu was drenched in tradition, emotion and actual rainfall. Folk costumes weren’t just worn — they practically sprouted from the soil. Toddlers, pensioners, pets and yes, symbolically stylish snails — if it moved, it was probably dressed to the (folk) nines.
Rahvariided — a legacy on hangers
Estonian national dress isn’t something you throw on like a novelty Christmas jumper. These are lovingly handwoven masterpieces, steeped in symbolism, local patterns and family lore. They are commissioned years in advance. They are heirlooms with hemlines.
My sister — dressmaker and unofficial rahvariided whisperer — tells me every set is one of a kind, made with thought and intention. Wearing one is not just a style choice; it’s a whole vibe. You carry your lineage in your linen, your region in your ribbons. And somehow, you stand straighter in the rain when you’re buttoned into your roots.
A festival or a catwalk? Why not both
Let’s be honest — this year’s festival felt like a runway show curated by the ancestors. Haapsalu lace, Muhu stripes, Setomaa belts woven tighter than my travel budget — it was all there, worn with pride and punctuated by the occasional squeaky shoe.
And in true Estonian fashion (pun fully intended), there’s now an official Rahvariided Day. Oh, and a Woven Belt Day. Because if we’re going to celebrate anything with national zeal, it might as well be accessories.
The intergenerational show of belonging
Before my first folk dance performance in Melbourne, I needed a costume. I didn’t know where to start — until an older Estonian lady opened her home, scanned me up and down, then disappeared into a cupboard. She returned with a perfectly fitted outfit and a classic no-nonsense nod: “Now you’ll feel like you belong.”
And she was right.
She dressed me like a mother would — layering, adjusting, belt-tightening — with a quiet reverence that made me realise just how special this all was. The costume even turned out to match my own mum’s ancestral region. A total fluke — or fate in wool?
As she showed me the matching stockings for cold days and the teeny handbag for essentials (what essentials… a sneaky safety pin? singing throat lozenges?), we shared stories, laughter, and something deeper. I missed my mum. And I silently promised to stop whining about being used as her mannequin growing up.
That wonderful lady is now a dear friend. And that moment — a belt, a hug, a knowing smile — was my ticket into a tradition stitched in kindness.
Skirts and shirts travelling the world
This year, those in rahvariided became part of something even bigger: world-renowned British photographer Jimmy Nelson set up portrait studios at Kalevi Stadium and the Song Festival Grounds to photograph people in traditional Estonian folk costumes — not just dancers and choir members, but anyone lucky enough to be wrapped in stripes and symbolism.
His previous works hang in major galleries from London to New York. The Estonian images will appear in a new book and international exhibition celebrating Eastern European cultures — meaning that yes, your fringe, your brooch, your slightly damp wool skirt could end up travelling the world.
No wonder the snails too wanted in on the action
I’m told that in years gone by, Melbourne Estonians wore national costume to almost every gathering. Perhaps it’s time we bring that magic back. Not just for special occasions — but to honour the beautifully stitched, slightly itchy, joy-filled symbols of who we are.
So next time someone says, “Here, try this on,” and hands you a folk costume from a cupboard — say yes. You never know where it might take you.
And honestly, if the snails can rock a belt and stripes, so can we.
Interested?
The website of Estonian national costumes
Article by Vincent Teetson in Eesti Elu about what it takes to acquire your own rahvariided
Thank you!
Big thank you to Kaili Salu for her brilliant idea and photo! Thank you to Hilja Toom for very helpful information!
