Maggie Cheung Man-yuk firmly seared herself into the collective memory of a whole generation of creatives when, captured by Wong Kar-wai’s seductively soft-edged lens, she emerged over the course of In The Mood For Love in a succession of 21 distinct cheongsam dresses. Each one was so form-fitted to her character, Mrs Chan, that it seemed like she had been poured into them. Tailored to tightly hug a woman’s figure, the cheongsam is often characterised by a high, starched mandarin collar and asymmetrically fastened at the chest by a series of pankou (knotted buttons) Depicted among the humdrum miscellany of her claustrophobic flat, or against the weathered concrete facades of pre-war tenements, Cheung’s cheongsam – bedecked in technicolour roses and daffodils, rendered in diaphanous chiffon and structured tweed – only became more resplendent on the silver screen. Set in 1962, In The Mood For Love was a delicate ode to the cheongsam in its heyday, yet the garment traces its roots to the turn of the 20th century, in a time of immense political and cultural upheaval in China. 5 Chinese films that have been honoured at the Cannes Film Festival The changpao (long robe) of the Qing dynasty had for four centuries served as compulsory dress for the Manchu administrative caste, distinguishing them from commoners yet eventually trickling down to become the national dress for both ordinary folk and the literati alike. Against the backdrop of rapid industrialisation and modernisation, and following the collapse of the Qing dynasty in 1911, the coastal city of Shanghai became the first port of call for British, American, French and Russian merchants and diplomats, from whom Western ideals of beauty, such as the flappers of the Jazz Age, quickly took root in the imagination of Shanghai’s upper class. Soon, the cheongsam (known in Mandarin as the qipao) as we know it began to take shape. Tailored to tightly hug a woman’s figure, the cheongsam is often characterised by a high, starched mandarin collar and asymmetrically fastened at the chest by a series of pankou (knotted buttons). Beyond Crazy Rich Asians: Gemma Chan on fame, family and Hong Kong From the 1940s onwards, however, revised cheongsam designs saw the pankou become a merely decorative feature while a back zip secured the dress for the sake of convenience. Sleeves can range in length from just above the elbow to no sleeves at all, although fitted cap sleeves that just cover the shoulders are the most popular option today. Lengthwise, history has seen the cheongsam range from floor-length to below the knee, and given the narrow, fitted nature of the garment, side slits were essential to allowing a degree of movement while flashing a bit of skin. Shanghai’s high society was thoroughly enamoured by the cheongsam, none more so than Oei Hui-lan, known as Madame Wellington Koo, an early Chinese-Indonesian style icon and socialite whose move to slash the side slit to the knee, and whose insistence on using Chinese silks in their construction, caught even the attention of American Vogue . In the same period, cheongsam-clad models were painted into mass-market cigarette ads, cementing themselves and their fashion as the new standard of modernity. Yet, the ascendance of the cheongsam was stalled by the twin calamities of World War II and the subsequent Chinese Civil War. In the chaos, Shanghai’s best tailors fled to the safe haven of Hong Kong, where they continued to ply their craft as, north of the border, the Communist Party precipitated a wholesale erasure of Chinese heritage. Yet, the ascendance of the cheongsam was stalled by the twin calamities of World War II and the subsequent Chinese Civil War How Stephen Fung set the tone for Netflix’s Wu Assassins It was in Hong Kong during the 1950s and 1960s that the cheongsam saw a second golden age. In the midst of a manufacturing boom during this time, Hong Kong women increasingly began to enter the workforce, many of them choosing to wear a more utilitarian version as office wear that featured simpler patterns and lighter fabrics – such as cotton and linen – to deal with the hot climate. Tapered waists and darts taken from Western dressmaking made their way into the cheongsam for a more slender silhouette. Those who couldn’t afford to have a cheongsam tailored would instead sew their own using patterns from women’s magazines and cheap fabrics such as hemp. This trend coincided with the increasing prestige of Hong Kong’s film industry, and the cheongsam accordingly made star appearances on the likes of Linda Lin Dai in The Orphan Girl , Li Xianglan in An Unforgettable Night , and most famously, Nancy Kwan Ka-shen in The World of Suzie Wong . The cheongsam had undeniably become synonymous with Hong Kong fashion. Those who couldn’t afford to have a cheongsam tailored would instead sew their own using patterns from women’s magazines and cheap fabrics such as hemp Yet as the 1970s and 1980s rolled around, the cheongsam could not compete with the city’s hunger for Western fashions and soon fell out of favour – it had, by this point, trickled down to becoming the uniform of choice for waitresses at banquet restaurants, thus removing any mystique that it had built up over the years. Relegated to weddings and other special occasions, the cheongsam would not see another revival until the seminal In The Mood For Love was released in 2000, inspiring a new generation to reclaim this symbolic dress. “Over the past few years, there’s been many more young women wearing the [cheongsam], maybe even more than the older generation,” observes third-generation cheongsam tailor Kan Hon-wing of Mei Wah Fashion on the longevity and resilience of the garment. “The [cheongsam] will never go out of style. People will always wear it, because it’s precious. Nothing else can take its place.” Want more stories like this? Sign up here . Follow STYLE on Facebook , Instagram , YouTube and Twitter