Hafsia is famous for its bustling markets, buzzing with energy and sound as shoppers weave their way from stall to stall, digging through mountains of secondhand goods piece by piece.
If you are already familiar with El Warcha you know about our deep attachment to Hafsia. The fripe has been one of our favorite playgrounds over the years, a place full of inspiration, a perfect spot to get lost, to source recycled material and obviously to find the trendiest shirts. Most importantly we have friends and neighbors who depend on this market to support themselves and their families. To us, the fripe itself is so much more than... well...just that——a fripe.
On account of the devastating news of the fire that decimated a significant portion of the secondhand market on 13 May 2020, this week several of our members reflect on the humanity of our neighbor the fripe, the economic and social epicenter of our beloved houma.
Please donate to the Hafsia fripe Market fundraising:
€: https://www.gofundme.com/f/hafsia-fripe…
TND: https://www.cha9a9a.tn/fund/detail/fripe-el-hafsia-107566…
Marlène
Les tissus qui servent à emballer et transporter les vêtements des fripes, on les voit souvent qui jonchent le sol après la fermeture des stands. Pour être fripés à la fin de la journée, ils le sont bien. Les premières fois où on est allé à leur recherche auprès des commerçants, beaucoup d’entre eux semblaient interloqués. On nous demandait ce qu’on allait en faire. Des doutes planaient sur notre possible revente de ceux-ci… Maintenant des vendeurs qui nous connaissent nous préparent toujours un stock de matière première, on est devenu les glaneurs des tissus.
En fait au début on ne savait pas trop vers où aller avec ces fameux tissus. On avait juste ce rituel : on les trouvait froissés par terre ou auprès des vendeurs, puis on les ramenait à l'atelier, les sélectionner pour leur couleur ou leur "rareté". Ensuite on les manipulait, on les tendait, on les tordait, on essayait de les tisser avec tout ce qu’on avait sous la main : de la corde, des ceintures en plastique, des serre-câbles…
Je me souviens d’un jour où on avait écumé tous les stands possibles des fripes à la quête des tissus. On en avait ramassé plein. Certains quasi neufs, d’autres en mauvais états. Arrivés à l’atelier, on s’est lancé dans une lessive géante pour tous les nettoyer : un gros seau pour l’eau savonneuse, un gros seau pour l’eau claire.
On avait tiré des cordes sous les arches, et on s’est mis à étendre tous ces tissus un à un sur les fils pour les faire sécher. C’était hyper coloré et il y en avait partout. Ça m'a rappelé quand j’étais gosse et qu’on construisait des tentes avec ma soeur et les voisin.e.s avec tous les tissus qu’on trouvait dans la maison.
Plusieurs mois après ça, quand on a participé à l’exposition anniversaire des 100 ans du Bauhaus à Dar Lasram, on a voulu faire une installation en écho à notre source d’inspiration qu’est le quartier de la Hafsia. On voulait également intégrer d’une manière ou d’une autre les fripes, puisqu’elles font partie de l’identité du quartier. On est retourné à la quête de ces tissus. On ne voulait pas que notre installation soit figée, on la voulait vivante et en interaction avec les visiteurs de l’exposition. Surtout qu’elle prenait place dans la Dar El Harka du palais Dar Lasram. Cette partie du palais servait à l’époque aux employé.e.s de celui-ci, pour toutes les tâches manuelles comme la cuisine ou encore la lessive.
Les tissus y ont retrouvé les mêmes cordes, sauf que cette fois-ci on ne les a pas simplement étendus. On s’est inspiré du système pour hisser les drapeaux, avec un assemblage de corde et de bambou pour rendre l’ensemble structurant. Quand on s’amusait à faire monter et descendre les tissus c’était magique. On s’amusait comme des gosses. C’était comme les matelots d’un bateau, on a hissé les voiles colorées dans le ciel.
Justin
The human is becoming plastic, much like the Barbie and Ken dolls that my sister and I used to play with as children. The dolls appeared to resemble real flesh, their clothes real cotton and leather, and their houses real wood, metal, and stone. However, everything was merely plastic. In this sense, plastic is a fantastic material. It holds its values because it can take on many shapes, textures, and appear like almost anything else. The disadvantage of plastic is that much of its value comes only in appearing as something else. Plastic in itself as raw material, is rather uninteresting. This is opposed to something like wool or leather, which might be valued because of its qualities as warm or durable.
When I say that the new human is becoming plastic, I mean that how we value the human is becoming like how we value plastic. Namely, we value it based on how it can appear. All the while, we are losing interest in the material medium. Whether on TV, Instagram, the internet, or in magazines, we experience people through their appearances. Although we don’t always and completely value a person because of their appearance, usually someone’s appearance, the shapes of their bodies or style of their dress, is all we have to value them upon. This is true for the stranger in the streets as it is true for the model on a billboard. With a plethora of malls and retail stores, it is easy for anyone to buy a valued appearance in the form of a slim dress or adidas trainers--whatever seems at that moment to resemble the trendiest fashions being adorned by models, celebrities, or our sports idols. Retail stores necessarily have these fashions. They make their money and survive because they sell them. Today, with so much focus upon appearances, it is no surprise that so many of the clothes we find in retail stores are made of plastic. And with how much value we put on appearances over material substance, it is no surprise that we are often willing to pay exorbitant prices for a thing made of such cheap material (and likely made cheaply by mass production in overseas factories that barely pay their workers).
Shopping second hand at the fripe doesn’t necessarily change anything. One can still buy plastic clothes and emulate in appearance the trendiest fashions; however, one has the option not to. The fripe invites us not to. Different styles both new and old and different materials from plastic to silk are all equalized. At the fripe all clothes are bunched together indistinguishably and, except for minor variances in price, they all cost the same regardless of material or style. Unlike clothes in a retail store, there is little concern for the trends of the moment or the amount of money that buying that trend will set you back. Instead, one can take journeys and detours into and around history and material. One can mix shoes made the year before with a skirt from the 1970s. One can enjoy the quality warmth of a thick wool jacket or buy a polyester sweater because it looks “cool.” Going to the fripe is also an adventure into the unpredictable of appearances, where even if you are after a specific style, the diversity of shapes and material drags you down an uncertain path. A bright color or oddly placed stripe that catches your eye may derail your search and send you off into a stylistic unknown. Often when prices are so low, there is little risk in trying out a risky style.
Ultimately shopping for clothes at the fripe is still about appearances. Yet, you are no longer bound to their plastic qualities of these appearances as you are in retail stores that have preselected the trends for you and laid them out neatly folded and arranged on display shelves or mannequins. When you develop your appearance from the clothes you buy at the fripe it is the result of a series of choices you’ve made at various turns and cuts through the piles of indistinguishable clothes. But most importantly, as a stranger on the street or an image in someone's social media feed, with your fripe style you are not merely a plastic resemblance of something else--an uninteresting medium for the newest trends. Instead, you are your own human self.
Ben
Most of it took place at night in a dark maze. Everyone at El Warcha got involved, Dali was welcoming participants, handing them a wristband: “Keep to the track” he said as a few shy participants started their journey into the dark. Lotfi was in a corner, suspiciously lighting a cigarette. Further down Mohamed was at the entrence of the souk el grana waiting with a dog. A headless shadow was floating on the wall, a dribbling swimsuit we had found at the fripe was hanging there. Eventually Elodie one of the actors brought it to mexico where her girlfriend is a diving instructor. Nour and Tayeb from Bab Jdid were dancing in a circle while a recorded voice was talking about goat fighting. There was a sea of black bin bags in a dim alleyway being dragged down mysteriously. Suddenly, you came across Dylan a scottish actor, trying to mimic the voice of an herbalist, explaining a conspiracy theory he had heard at Souk le Blat. Once at the corner of the fripe, the tailor was offering tea to everyone while pretending to work in the dead of the night. Finally we were all gathered in the middle of the fripe, the exact corner that has now gone in flames, all the stalls were deserted, someone was pointing a flashlight to lead the way. Shadow faces started appearing on the hanging fabric, recorded voices of inhabitant were telling the story of the “sabbat al 3arusa” (tunnel of the bride) and of the “hammam dhab” (hammam d’or), places linked to scary legends. A young bride stolen by the king of the jinn huddled at a walled up exit of a tunnel. One of the many stories one usually hear from Wajdi, fears tuned into legends. Now that this place has burnt down what will remain. “Dragons” was an immersive performance Theatre senza put together with support from l’Art Rue, most of us at El Wacha helped put it together.
Aziz
Cartographie des Fripes :Kids Workshop with Katharina
Une Grande Carte de La Hafsia était tendu sur la table, des enfants tout autours chacun un feutre en couleur, ils associaient les formes a leurs identités :3attar, jéma3, stade, Vielle Fripe, Nouvelle Fripe.
Des contes surgissaient à chaque rencontre d’un lieu. Des souvenirs, des histoires Drôle, d’autre Familiale..
Katharina : ta3rfouh el Fripe el 9dim ?
Vous connaissez la vieille fripe ?
Montassar : chnéya na3rfouh ! jadi w Baba kénou yekhdmou ghadi, tawa ma3adech.
Et comment ! mon grand père ainsi que mon père travaillaient la bas
-Dans les fripes on trouve le monde
Des catégories ont été établie, les vêtements, les chaussures, les accessoires, les ustensiles de cuisine..
Un badge au cou avec le nom et prénom, muni d’un porte document avec la carte des fripes en miniature, un stylo, des posthites de marquage et un contrat d’emprunt. Nous étions partie avec les enfants à la recherche des objets dans l’idée de réaliser une cartographie des fripes.
-La Fripothérapie
On s’était donc divisé en petit groupe, un adulte et 2 voir 3 enfants chacun. Par le billet du kit magique, les enfants se sont directe mis dans le rôle de chercheur, on arpentait les fripes a la recherche de l’objet désiré. On été juste des accompagnateurs et c’était a eux de parler ainsi que convaincre les marchands de nous prêter l’objet. C’était comme une chasse au trésor ! On se faisait guider par les enfants à travers les étangs, et les bas des corps.
Une fois l’objet trouvé, Ils faisaient remplir la fiche, Nom et Prénom du préteur, heure de rendre l’objet, signature des deux parties et enfin marquage du site dans la carte.
La plupart des marchands étaient à l’écoute attentive des enfants, ils se prêtaient aux jeux. On voyait bien leurs sourire face aux mots, ca les faisait marrer.
- Dessine ta trouvaille
De retour a l’atelier on s’était tous retrouver. il y avait de tout : un crampon, un gant de baseball, une poupée, un collier, T-shirt.. Absolument de tout !
Chaque enfant prend en photo son objet trace le contour de l’objet sur un carton le découpe et attribue des couleurs a ceci.
Retour a la fripe pour remettre aux marchands leurs objets afin de remplir nos parts du contrat.
Aisha
On my first official day of work at El Warcha, I went in search of a shortcut through the medina that skipped the crowds. On a weekend, I could be one of them, strolling at a leisurely pace in search of nothing in particular, feasting my eyes on the symphony of color and texture found in the souks at Bab Bhar.
But today, I boldly went in search of the road less traveled. Each time I turned, I visualized the map and said to myself, El Warcha is . . . this way. I kept up this technique as I zigzagged through alleys I had never seen, hoping I wasn’t headed to a dead end. I found myself in a market, where merchandise eventually shifted from readymade clothes to 9amech by the meter. A few more steps and I was ejected into a part of the bustling market that I actually recognized! Alhamdullilah! This fork was demarcated on my mental map by the vendor with his table of shoes and the wafting smell of rotisserie chicken. I took a left and continued towards El Hafsia. I slowed my pace, taking notice of all the shirts hanging neatly high above to my right and piles of colorful fabrics to my left. If I went forward and then turned right, I’d pass the tabouneh shop, then it was a straight shot to the studio. Instead I paused at a turn I didn’t usually take. I wondered what would happen if I went this way instead. I didn’t want to push my luck, so I continued onto the path I knew.
For days I followed this same zigzag path. When I started developing the serigraphie project at El Warcha, I challenged myself to take different routes. While collecting motifs from the neighborhood, I was always in search of new paths and new sights. I made a point to never take the same exact walk to the studio twice. Eventually I explored that mysterious turn, finding myself in a small section of the fripe separate from the better-known mass of shops in the “Friperies de la Hafsia.” Each day I found something new in the collection of goods: housewares, sunglasses, carpets, backpacks, and ample clothing. Early on in my explorations, I discovered a stall with piles upon piles of used fabrics. Soon this section of the fripe became a part of my daily routine. A couple of vendors would call to me to check out their new stock of tablecloths, pillowcases, and bedsheets galore—-aka cheap canvas for serigraphie prints!
Passing under a rainbow of colors and digging through mountains of fabrics brought me energy and assurance each morning. The walk to El Warcha had become a ritual, one where familiarity and discovery meet. The habit of hunting for the right colors, textures, and fabric weight (or a clean enough tote bag) was sometimes like searching for a needle in the haystack. Nevertheless, the experience was always therapeutic, giving me a moment to breathe and be present in the moment, grounding myself for the day ahead.
Over time, the mobile serigraphie project turned into the artwork Code of Being, a screen-printed collection of found fabrics with motifs inspired by the social and built environment of Hafsia. The printed elements hang on the line, just like the laundry you see out to dry all over the neighborhood, a spectrum of colors that brought me comfort each and every morning. While the beauty of Hafsia extends far beyond its markets, my memories from El Warcha cannot be separated from Hafsia or the fripe. All over my own home, I find countless reminders of the giving nature of the Hafsia fripe--in the softest (and cheapest) of t-shirts, the upcycled bed sheets that shade my balcony, and the most beautiful patterns of Hafsia manifested in ink.