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Shopping seems both a frivolous preoccupation in late 2020 and a totally appropriate topic to be thinking about when so many people around the world find even the most basic of shopping trips difficult to complete. Here in New Zealand, we are so fortunate to be able to work and shop almost normally at the moment. The Imagining Arabia Summer Scholar, Katy White, has been researching shopping in New Zealand's department stores in the interwar years looking at the influence of 'Egyptomania' on some of New Zealand's largest stores. We would like to thank the enormously helpful staff at National Library of New Zealand for their assistance in this project. Katy's findings have not been what we expected! Read on... Egyptomania in New Zealand Department Stores between the Wars - part I |
 Evening Post, 6 July 1923. |  Ashburton Guardian, 18 April 1923. |
New Zealand was no exception. Both large department stores and smaller retailers utilised the Boy King to sell their goods. This use varied widely and sometimes veered into the ridiculous, with Ford advertisementss in the early 1920s making much of the fact that theirs was the car Lord Carnarvon had used around Luxor. Yet while Tutankhamen - and Egypt in a broader sense - appeared in advertising in New Zealand, the timing was significant. The bulk of Egyptian imagery was not used here until mid- to late- 1923, by which time the craze was already beginning to ebb away in the northern hemisphere.
New Zealand was at the end of the fashion supply chain. The Antipodean seasonal shift meant that what had been popular in the northern-hemisphere spring would not reach New Zealand until several months later. This did not mean that the New Zealand public were unaware of the trends occurring overseas: in fact, they were widely reported. Women’s magazines like the Ladies’ Mirror kept readers up to date with fashions from society events, particularly in London (this was still the era when Britain was referred to by many as “Home,” even if they had never set foot in the UK).
New Zealand was at the end of the fashion supply chain. The Antipodean seasonal shift meant that what had been popular in the northern-hemisphere spring would not reach New Zealand until several months later. This did not mean that the New Zealand public were unaware of the trends occurring overseas: in fact, they were widely reported. Women’s magazines like the Ladies’ Mirror kept readers up to date with fashions from society events, particularly in London (this was still the era when Britain was referred to by many as “Home,” even if they had never set foot in the UK).
Advertisement in New Zealand Herald, 11 August 1923.
This reporting created a number of problems for New Zealand department stores. They were constrained in their advertising of many of their goods because women customers were reluctant to wear fashions that had been widely seen even if only by reporters for overseas newspapers. As a result, New Zealand stores were quite conservative in their stocking of women’s fashions.
Wellington store Kirkcaldie and Stains found this conservatism an increasing problem during the 1920s. Already deeply affected by the recession of 1921-2, the store’s policies meant they struggled to attract younger clientele through its doors, a problem that persisted until their 1931 takeover by British Overseas Stores. In 1932, James Crosser at Kirkcaldie & Stains complained that he could not understand “why no provision [had] been made in the past to cater for the younger girl and the average flapper.” While this was a pressing issue for Kirkcaldie and Stains, it is unclear to what extent a similar lack of engagement from young people plagued the large department stores in Auckland and Christchurch. Smith & Caughey, for example, emphasised “Latest Fashion Novelties From London and Paris,” but it is unclear if this translated into younger, more modern customers. They also made note of the pervasiveness of the Egyptian influence within the store (see above) but it is clear that Egyptian ‘trimmings and linings’ were much more common than ‘complete’ garments, and the advertisement is conveniently vague about what ‘more or less’ Egyptian vogue might mean.
New Zealand department stores were heavily influenced by trends overseas, but it is difficult to research links between them. Advertising captures some of the ways department stores presented themselves to their customers, but records of stock or product lines, of window displays and in-store promotions are rare for the inter-war period. What is clear is that by the mid-1920s, the Egyptian craze was well and truly past in the northern hemisphere, and by 1925 Egyptian imagery in New Zealand was being used to advertise church events – rarely regarded as the cutting edge of high fashion (see below). The short-lived nature of Egyptomania has been attributed to fears around “Tutankhamen’s Curse” following the death of Lord Carnarvon, one of the main backers of the expedition, while others suggest that it was a reflection on the fleeting and ephemeral nature of the era, in which the new and exciting was being continually sought out. Was Tutmania in New Zealand simply an echo of the same trend overseas? In an era marked by its constant search for modernity, trends turned over fast, but a distinctly New Zealand sense of Egyptomania proves still elusive.
Wellington store Kirkcaldie and Stains found this conservatism an increasing problem during the 1920s. Already deeply affected by the recession of 1921-2, the store’s policies meant they struggled to attract younger clientele through its doors, a problem that persisted until their 1931 takeover by British Overseas Stores. In 1932, James Crosser at Kirkcaldie & Stains complained that he could not understand “why no provision [had] been made in the past to cater for the younger girl and the average flapper.” While this was a pressing issue for Kirkcaldie and Stains, it is unclear to what extent a similar lack of engagement from young people plagued the large department stores in Auckland and Christchurch. Smith & Caughey, for example, emphasised “Latest Fashion Novelties From London and Paris,” but it is unclear if this translated into younger, more modern customers. They also made note of the pervasiveness of the Egyptian influence within the store (see above) but it is clear that Egyptian ‘trimmings and linings’ were much more common than ‘complete’ garments, and the advertisement is conveniently vague about what ‘more or less’ Egyptian vogue might mean.
New Zealand department stores were heavily influenced by trends overseas, but it is difficult to research links between them. Advertising captures some of the ways department stores presented themselves to their customers, but records of stock or product lines, of window displays and in-store promotions are rare for the inter-war period. What is clear is that by the mid-1920s, the Egyptian craze was well and truly past in the northern hemisphere, and by 1925 Egyptian imagery in New Zealand was being used to advertise church events – rarely regarded as the cutting edge of high fashion (see below). The short-lived nature of Egyptomania has been attributed to fears around “Tutankhamen’s Curse” following the death of Lord Carnarvon, one of the main backers of the expedition, while others suggest that it was a reflection on the fleeting and ephemeral nature of the era, in which the new and exciting was being continually sought out. Was Tutmania in New Zealand simply an echo of the same trend overseas? In an era marked by its constant search for modernity, trends turned over fast, but a distinctly New Zealand sense of Egyptomania proves still elusive.
Church Fundraiser pamphlet. ATL Ephemera Collection.
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The June issue of the Journal of New Zealand Studies features an article by Josh, entitled '"Certainly getting about the world": New Zealanders' Experience of the Middle East as a Place during the Second World War'.
The article uses diaries, letters and soldier publications, and focuses on how New Zealanders saw the Middle East as a place, through the lenses of the desert, the city, the Holy Land and the ancient world. When New Zealand’s Middle Eastern war is discussed, the focus is usually on combat and the lives of New Zealanders on the battlefield. The limited discussion of life behind the lines is dominated by a picture of racism, drunkenness and debauchery with its focal point in Cairo. Josh argues that this is an entirely inadequate representation of New Zealanders' engagement with the Middle East during the war. Instead, his article reveals a complex and rich picture of respect and loathing, delight and disgust, wonder and disillusionment.
The article is available to read and download for free here: https://ojs.victoria.ac.nz/jnzs/article/view/6501
The article uses diaries, letters and soldier publications, and focuses on how New Zealanders saw the Middle East as a place, through the lenses of the desert, the city, the Holy Land and the ancient world. When New Zealand’s Middle Eastern war is discussed, the focus is usually on combat and the lives of New Zealanders on the battlefield. The limited discussion of life behind the lines is dominated by a picture of racism, drunkenness and debauchery with its focal point in Cairo. Josh argues that this is an entirely inadequate representation of New Zealanders' engagement with the Middle East during the war. Instead, his article reveals a complex and rich picture of respect and loathing, delight and disgust, wonder and disillusionment.
The article is available to read and download for free here: https://ojs.victoria.ac.nz/jnzs/article/view/6501
Australians in the Middle East - musings on a complex relationship
In December 1942, shortly before the last Australian soldiers finished their time in the Middle East, a private who had served through tough campaigns in Libya and Egypt wrote home: 'Am just about sick of the Middle East and the dirty wogs not forgetting the robbing Jews. I know where these dirty robbing b____ would have been only for the New Zealanders and Australians'. His notion that the inhabitants of the Middle East were ignorant and unworthy of the protection that British Commonwealth forces had given them was a common one. A prominent part of this worldview was apparent when another Australian who had just visited Cairo's bazaars and brothels nominated the latter one of the lowest places on earth and declared 'proves just how fortunate we are to be British'.
There are many more quotations that reflect attitudes that are now considered shockingly racist. Yet Australian attitudes to the local people of the Middle East were complex and, in many cases, included considerable compassion. For example, Eric Lambert, an Australian machine-gunner who would after the war become a respected novelist, wrote in late 1941, 'A Gypo kid begged food I had to give. There was all his soul in that begging'. One of the battalion histories said of a time in 1942 when the 9th Australian Division was in Syria: 'How they loved to visit us from whatever village we happened to be near, all these bright little Arab children and, though we were strong rough he-men, who would not have admitted how we loved all of those kids'.
There are many more quotations that reflect attitudes that are now considered shockingly racist. Yet Australian attitudes to the local people of the Middle East were complex and, in many cases, included considerable compassion. For example, Eric Lambert, an Australian machine-gunner who would after the war become a respected novelist, wrote in late 1941, 'A Gypo kid begged food I had to give. There was all his soul in that begging'. One of the battalion histories said of a time in 1942 when the 9th Australian Division was in Syria: 'How they loved to visit us from whatever village we happened to be near, all these bright little Arab children and, though we were strong rough he-men, who would not have admitted how we loved all of those kids'.
 Australian soldiers often showed pity for Arab children, and delight in the groups of 'Arab kiddies' who followed soldiers around camp.  A family portrait taken by an Australian soldier in the Middle East. | Attitudes to the local adult population were more problematic, but they too reflected an egalitarianism that was stronger than that of the British Army that oversaw administration in Palestine, Egypt and Syria. If they thought about politics, which many Diggers did not, a widespread Australian worldview put 'we British' at the top in a hierarchy that was racist. However, when it came to personal interaction with local people, another veteran soldier Charlie Lemaire was not being insincere or entirely inaccurate when he asserted that the typical Australian attitude to Arabs and Jews was 'generally good natured and tolerant'.  The photographer's caption to that portrait. |
Dr Mark Johnston, Scotch College, Melbourne.
Author of Anzacs in the Middle East: Australian soldiers, their allies and the local people in the Middle East in World War II, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne 2013.
All photos from Mark Johnston's collection.
Author of Anzacs in the Middle East: Australian soldiers, their allies and the local people in the Middle East in World War II, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne 2013.
All photos from Mark Johnston's collection.
 Major Fred Waite, 1918, photographed by SP Andrew, 1/1-015022-G ATL.  Fred Waite's book published in 1919. Fred Waite wrote that New Zealand soldiers bought all sorts of souvenirs in the Middle East, from "precious stones and expensive silks down to cocoanut wood elephants and little green-backed beetles". New Zealanders at Gallipoli, p.26.  Fred Waite was not the only soldier-collector. Alexander Strang served in Cairo with the Wellington Mounted Rifles and brought a collection of tomb artefacts home to Taranaki. These are on display in Puke Ariki, New Plymouth. | Fred Waite’s relationship with the Middle East was a long one. Service in two World Wars, a keen personal interest in archaeology, and a post-Second World War museum appointment meant that Fred Waite spent the better part of his life involved with the Middle East in one way or another. Born in 1885 in Dunedin, Waite worked as a compositor at the Otago Daily Times before marrying Ada Philipson Taylor in 1912. Together they moved to Waiwera South, near Balclutha, in 1913 and took over the Hill Foot farm. Waite was described as an “intense patriot”, and in 1914 he enlisted in the New Zealand Expeditionary Force for service in the First World War. It was here that Waite’s long relationship with the Middle East began. As a Lieutenant in the New Zealand Engineers, he sailed from Wellington with the Main Body on 16 October 1914 and a little less than two months later, on 3 December, he disembarked at Suez in Egypt. After a period of intense training, and presumably taking in the sights, sounds and smells of Cairo, Waite embarked for Gallipoli on 12 April 1915. He served nearly four months in the Dardanelles, being wounded in the shoulder, and was awarded the Distinguished Service Order for his actions at Gaba Tepe. After being invalided to England with dysentery, Waite sailed for New Zealand on 15 April 1916, where he served the rest of the war as chief engineer instructor. Between the wars, Fred Waite remained an officer in the Territorial Force, was elected to Parliament and later appointed to the Legislative Council, was president of the Balclutha RSA and continued to work his Hill Foot farm. Despite all of these preoccupations, his interest in the Middle East remained. He developed an interest in archaeology, originally around early Māori settlement sites in Otago, but he also read widely on ancient Egypt. This interest bore fruit when, during the Second World War, Waite (now a Lieutenant Colonel) was sent to Egypt as overseas commissioner for the National Patriotic Fund Board. Based in Cairo for three years from 1941 to 1944, Waite spent his off-duty hours with archaeologists working in Egypt, visiting their dig-sites, and also meeting local Egyptian landowners and peasants. Throughout the war, he amassed an enormous collection of artefacts – mainly ancient Egyptian, but also Hellenistic Greek, Syrian and Islamic. The vast majority of these pieces went to the Otago Museum, but 190 artefacts were also donated or sold to the Dominion Museum in Wellington (which later became Te Papa) in 1943 and 1944. With his donations forming the core of Otago Museum’s Middle Eastern artefact collection, Fred Waite was appointed as honorary keeper of Middle Eastern archaeology at the museum upon his return to New Zealand. Two years before his death, the Museum published his book on Egyptian Predynastic Pottery marking the final chapter in a life strongly connected with the Middle East. Fred Waite died in Balclutha hospital on 29 August 1952. |
Filter, Sherd, E43.625, donated by Fred Waite. Otago Museum.
One of the questions we are working on in Imagining Arabia is: what ideas of ‘Arabs’ did New Zealanders and Australians have before they travelled to the Middle East?
This question arose because it is clear that large numbers of Australian and New Zealand soldiers had derogatory, negative and blatantly racist attitudes towards many of the peoples they met when they were deployed to the Middle East. Historians’ explanations for this racism are not very robust: most commonly historians suggest that racist attitudes towards Middle Eastern peoples were a result of racist attitudes that proliferated in late-19th century Australasia towards the Chinese. The fear of the ‘yellow peril’ and of Chinese immigration led New Zealand and Australian governments to pass restrictive and racially-based legislation against the Chinese (and other non-European groups), and to exclude them from all benefits of citizenship. This treatment of Asians, and other groups, in Australasia is commonly and collectively known as the ‘White Australia’ policy (although all of the same policies existed in New Zealand). While racist attitudes towards some groups might be able to be generalized to some extent to explain negative attitudes towards anyone who was ‘foreign’, this explanation of Australasians’ attitudes towards Middle Eastern peoples seemed to us to warrant further investigation.
This question arose because it is clear that large numbers of Australian and New Zealand soldiers had derogatory, negative and blatantly racist attitudes towards many of the peoples they met when they were deployed to the Middle East. Historians’ explanations for this racism are not very robust: most commonly historians suggest that racist attitudes towards Middle Eastern peoples were a result of racist attitudes that proliferated in late-19th century Australasia towards the Chinese. The fear of the ‘yellow peril’ and of Chinese immigration led New Zealand and Australian governments to pass restrictive and racially-based legislation against the Chinese (and other non-European groups), and to exclude them from all benefits of citizenship. This treatment of Asians, and other groups, in Australasia is commonly and collectively known as the ‘White Australia’ policy (although all of the same policies existed in New Zealand). While racist attitudes towards some groups might be able to be generalized to some extent to explain negative attitudes towards anyone who was ‘foreign’, this explanation of Australasians’ attitudes towards Middle Eastern peoples seemed to us to warrant further investigation.
Some images of Arab men were provided through literature: they could be depicted as young adventurers such as Sinbad, or as decadent sultans. Illustration from Arabian Nights by Milo Winter 1914. (WikiCommons)
So what did European Australians and New Zealanders know of the Arab world, and how did they know it? It’s clear that literature such as Arabian Nights had some influence, but other forms of popular culture existed alongside these famous stories.
Prompted by American historian Susan Nance’s wonderful book How the Arabian Nights Inspired the American Dream, 1790-1935 (University of North Carolina Press, 2009), we decided to research Arab entertainers, especially acrobats. Nance argues that ‘Arab’ performers appeared to American audiences as muscular, athletic and daring. Their acrobatic prowess was a major draw-card, and they thrilled audiences. Our volunteer researcher Maggie Lindsay used digital newspapers to look at the appearance of ‘Arab' acrobatic troupes in New Zealand and Australia between 1890 and 1945.
Maggie discovered similar reception of ‘Arab’ performers in Australia and New Zealand. Acrobats and performers were described as ‘fine stalwart fellows, well-grown and sinewy’ and ‘fine looking men’, as well as with romantic Orientalist language. When ‘Abdullah’s Arabs’ appeared at the Melbourne Opera House in 1908, they were ‘novel and fantastic’.
There are a dozen of them, of all ages, from smooth-faced boys to bearded elders. One feature they have in common – surprising muscular strength and agility. They storm yelling on to the stage, clad in flowing white robes slashed with red, bringing with them a whiff of desert air and weird memories of the mystic East. For half an hour they give an exhibition of quaint feats that would astonish many a stalwart Western champion… Strange to say they do not look like men of large muscular development, yet they must have sinews as firm as steel and as flexible as silk… The subtle fascination of Eastern dances is felt as the spectator watches the marvelous displays of muscular power.
(‘Theatrical and Musical Notes, Otago Witness, 5 August 1908)
Prompted by American historian Susan Nance’s wonderful book How the Arabian Nights Inspired the American Dream, 1790-1935 (University of North Carolina Press, 2009), we decided to research Arab entertainers, especially acrobats. Nance argues that ‘Arab’ performers appeared to American audiences as muscular, athletic and daring. Their acrobatic prowess was a major draw-card, and they thrilled audiences. Our volunteer researcher Maggie Lindsay used digital newspapers to look at the appearance of ‘Arab' acrobatic troupes in New Zealand and Australia between 1890 and 1945.
Maggie discovered similar reception of ‘Arab’ performers in Australia and New Zealand. Acrobats and performers were described as ‘fine stalwart fellows, well-grown and sinewy’ and ‘fine looking men’, as well as with romantic Orientalist language. When ‘Abdullah’s Arabs’ appeared at the Melbourne Opera House in 1908, they were ‘novel and fantastic’.
There are a dozen of them, of all ages, from smooth-faced boys to bearded elders. One feature they have in common – surprising muscular strength and agility. They storm yelling on to the stage, clad in flowing white robes slashed with red, bringing with them a whiff of desert air and weird memories of the mystic East. For half an hour they give an exhibition of quaint feats that would astonish many a stalwart Western champion… Strange to say they do not look like men of large muscular development, yet they must have sinews as firm as steel and as flexible as silk… The subtle fascination of Eastern dances is felt as the spectator watches the marvelous displays of muscular power.
(‘Theatrical and Musical Notes, Otago Witness, 5 August 1908)
| Maggie observes that in the 1890s, ‘Arab’ acts included displays of Bedouin swordsmanship and 'rifle spinning' but, as the idea of 'Arab acrobats' became more established, performances focused more on the gymnastic elements. As this happened, 'Arab acrobatics' became a more widely used term, a description of a style of performance, so the association between acrobatic performance of certain kinds and ‘Arab’ daring and athleticism must have become quite established in the public's mind. These were positive images of Arab men, even while they were imbued with elements of Orientalist fantasy. Racial stereotypes and attitudes towards 'others' are complex and multi-layered, and there's no doubt that European superiority was a common feature of 'white Australian' ideas. However, we cannot simply argue that because Australasians held negative ideas about one ethnic group, that they held that view about all other 'foreigners' or 'others'. So the question of how Australians and New Zealanders developed their ideas about people they called 'Arabs' needs careful research. |  "Demnati Arab Acrobats", The Labor Daily, 25 January 1936. |
We’ll be looking more into the ways ‘Arab’ performers fashioned images of the Middle East for Australasian audiences in later posts. In the meantime, thanks to Maggie for her terrific work on this topic!
'Arab acrobatics' came to be used to describe a style of tumbling, not the ethnic origin of the performers. The Call (Perth), 8 June 1923.
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