TRUNG TÂM SÁNG TẠO,
KHAI THÁC DỮ LIỆU
NATIONAL CENTER ON DATA INNOVATION
Sunday - 12/07/2026
VIE
Sunday - 12/07/2026
Zalo

Sitting by the window of the Nhan Dan Newspaper building, looking out at the Turtle Tower, designer Vu Viet Ha began his story with a word he repeated over and over: "luck." He believes he was lucky to be born in Hanoi, lucky to have studied painting, and lucky to have found his own path in the highly competitive fashion market. But listening to him, behind that word "luck" lies nearly twenty years of perseverance to pursue his dream.

He originally majored in painting. The turning point came when he won an international award from the Bunka Design Institute (Japan). "The Japanese criteria is to honor traditional cultural values, everything related to heritage," he recalled. That award outlined the path he has pursued to this day: telling the story of Vietnamese culture through the language of clothing.

As the son of an official at Vietnam Television, he was initially slated to work there. But he took a different path, because of a life principle: he is responsible for his own success or failure. "I'm very worried that if I don't do it well or to the point of not meeting expectations, the criticism will be a burden on me," he confided. Throughout his student years, friends were familiar with Vu Viet Ha's image of studying and working at the same time, with the cost of art supplies and materials consuming all his self-earned money. That period of self-reliance honed both his style and his professional skills.

When Vũ Việt Hà is mentioned, the fashion world immediately thinks of materials that most designers wouldn't be keen on: hemp fiber, pineapple fiber, banana fiber, lotus fiber, and brocade. Faced with a somewhat bold decision, he chose to go against the grain, believing that the very "difficulty" of these local materials would create a unique mark.

The story began with internships during his student years, venturing into traditional craft villages in remote, mountainous areas. Each traditional fabric carries its own cultural genetic code: the Cơ Tu brocade of Quảng Nam is embellished with beads, while the brocade of Northern Vietnam is a multi-layered weaving technique. "It's like the product's positioning, a unique characteristic of each ethnic group," he says.

Then he encountered "lotus silk." One square meter of lotus silk fabric requires nearly 12,000 lotus stems. According to designer Vu Viet Ha, that number is "incredible, not because of the material itself, but because of the tireless effort of the laborers who create it." When woven, lotus silk is light and airy, subtly fragrant, rustic yet pure. Each piece of fabric embodies the spirit of the flower itself: noble, resilient, and meticulous, just like the Vietnamese people.

On another occasion, when a textile company introduced pandan leaf fiber, he accepted the offer and requested that they spin the fibers as finely as possible. The first time he saw the finished fabric, he immediately recognized that the material reminded him of the dó paper used in Dong Ho paintings. The idea of ​​incorporating folk motifs onto pandan leaf fabric was born at that moment. "With hard work comes creativity," he said, quoting the elders to summarize his journey of "daring to try and fail, daring to try and succeed."

About six years ago, designer Vu Viet Ha started the trend of loose-fitting ao dai (Vietnamese traditional dress). At the time, many were skeptical. By this past Lunar New Year, the image of young women wearing loose-fitting ao dai to wish New Year greetings had become familiar throughout the streets. "My efforts, however small, have contributed to making the image of the traditional ao dai more radiant," he said, his voice clear and emotional.

The beauty of the loose-fitting ao dai lies in its paradox: the straight silhouette, yet when moving, reveals soft curves. It hides the figure of those who are not satisfied with their physique, giving a shy and gentle appearance. From thick to thin, sheer to rough fabrics, each version of the loose-fitting ao dai has its own voice. And that voice, through the image of the loose-fitting ao dai, spreads a little further with each Tet season.

"In romantic relationships, fidelity might be questionable, but in the love of work, it's very enduring; there's no room for betrayal," – that was perhaps the most emotional statement Vũ Việt Hà made during the conversation. This past Tet (Lunar New Year), he made ao dai (traditional Vietnamese dress) as a gift for his mother and his extended family. When his mother wore the ao dai designed by her son, adding a scarf he made, and showed it off to her friends during Tet greetings – that was a joy of parenthood that no award could measure for him.

In 2026, Vũ Việt Hà aims to bring the images of Vietnam's 54 ethnic groups onto ao dai in the most impactful way possible. He confided: "Regarding my plans, I prefer not to share them in words, but everything will be conveyed through images and products."

For designer Vu Viet Ha, the most beautiful ao dai (Vietnamese traditional dress) is perhaps the one yet to be made – the creations await him in the future, on a journey whose destination is always Vietnamese culture.

Published: March 2026

Produced by: Khánh Sơn

Executed by: Anh Thư

Performed by: Anh Thư - Khánh Ly - Minh Ngọc

Images and videos: 28 Entertainment

By nhandan.vn
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