by Joseph Dedvukaj
Abstract
This chapter examines the historical transformation of the fustanella, a pleated white kilt of Albanian origin, into a central symbol of modern Greek national identity. Drawing on nineteenth- and early twentieth-century European travel accounts, ethnography, and visual culture, it traces how Western observers consistently recognized the garment’s Albanian roots, even as Greek nationalism selectively adopted it for symbolic purposes. The study highlights the role of visual representation, philhellenic art, and state ceremonial dress in standardizing the fustanella as a national emblem. By analyzing a 1922 British encyclopedic caption that matter-of-factly identifies the fustanella as “the linen kilt of Albania,” the chapter underscores how cultural artifacts were appropriated to construct national identity, while their origins remained visible to external observers. The case of the fustanella illustrates broader dynamics of selective inheritance and identity formation in the Balkans.
I. Introduction: When a Caption Becomes Evidence
In 1922, a British encyclopedic publication offered what appears, at first glance, to be a neutral description of a national holiday in Greece. Beneath a photograph titled “Youthful Patriots of the Kingdom of Hellas,” the author explained that schoolboys marching in patriotic parades wore “fresh white fustanella, the linen kilt of Albania, which has been virtually adopted as the Greek national costume.”¹
This sentence—brief, unembellished, and non-polemical—encapsulates a broader historical process that had unfolded over the preceding century: the transformation of a regional Albanian garment into a standardized symbol of Greek national identity. What gives this remark particular weight is not rhetorical emphasis but its tone of casual certainty. The author does not argue, justify, or defend the claim. He assumes it as common knowledge.
This chapter situates that 1922 encyclopedic statement within a longer continuum of European travel writing, ethnography, and political observation, demonstrating that the Albanian origin of the fustanella was widely recognized by Western observers well before the consolidation of the modern Greek state.
II. The Fustanella Before Nationalism
The fustanella—a pleated white kilt traditionally worn with leggings and leather shoes—was not invented as a national costume. It emerged as a regional Balkan garment, closely associated with Albanian-speaking populations of southern Albania (Toskëri), Epirus, and adjacent highland zones.
Long before the Greek War of Independence (1821), Western travelers consistently identified the garment as Albanian in origin, regardless of whether its wearers were Muslim or Christian, Albanian-speaking or Greek-speaking.
As early as the late eighteenth century, William Martin Leake, one of the most careful observers of the Ottoman Balkans, described the fustanella explicitly as Albanian dress, worn by Albanians and by others who had adopted Albanian customs.² Leake’s ethnographic precision was typical of British military and diplomatic observers, for whom clothing served as a primary marker of social and ethnic distinction.
Similarly, François Pouqueville, whose writings strongly favored the Greek cause, nevertheless referred to the fustanella as costume albanais, even when describing Christian fighters later celebrated as Greek revolutionaries.³ The distinction between political allegiance and cultural origin was not yet blurred.
III. Philhellenism and Selective Adoption
The early nineteenth century saw a dramatic shift. The Greek War of Independence generated intense European sympathy, and with it a visual language of heroism. Philhellenic art, literature, and propaganda needed a recognizable, martial image. The fustanella provided exactly that.
Paintings and engravings produced in London, Paris, and Munich repeatedly depicted Greek fighters in fustanella—despite the fact that many Greek-speaking regions had never worn the garment traditionally.
The dress conveyed:
• antiquity (through imagined continuity)
• masculinity and military virtue
• a “classical” whiteness appealing to Western aesthetics
By the 1830s, with the establishment of the Kingdom of Greece under Bavarian rule, this visual language was institutionalized. Court ceremonial dress, royal guards, and later school uniforms standardized the fustanella as a national emblem.
Yet Western observers continued to note the garment’s Albanian origin.
IV. Nineteenth-Century Travel Accounts: Consistent Attribution
Throughout the nineteenth century, European travel literature displays remarkable consistency on this point.
Lord Byron, who famously wore Albanian dress during his travels, explicitly identified his attire as Albanian, not Greek. In correspondence and portraiture, Byron emphasized that the fustanella and accompanying garments belonged to Albanian warriors, whom he admired for their martial culture.⁴
Likewise, Edward Lear, during his journeys in Albania and Greece in the 1840s, carefully distinguished Albanian costume from Greek urban dress, repeatedly associating the fustanella with Albanian-speaking highlanders and Arvanites.⁵
Even scholars sympathetic to Greek nationalism, such as George Finlay, acknowledged that many of the revolutionary fighters celebrated as Greek heroes were culturally Albanian in dress, custom, and often language.⁶
V. From Regional Garment to State Symbol
What changed over time was not the garment’s origin, but its meaning.
By the late nineteenth century, the Greek state had successfully recoded the fustanella as:
• a symbol of national continuity
• an emblem of revolutionary legitimacy
• a visual marker separating “Greek” from “Ottoman”
This process did not require denial of Albanian origins—only their gradual omission from public memory. The fact that a British encyclopedia in 1922 still described the fustanella as “the linen kilt of Albania” demonstrates that this omission was local, not universal.
Outside the Balkans, the origin remained visible.
VI. The 1922 Encyclopedic Witness Reconsidered
The value of Peoples of All Nations lies precisely in its lack of agenda. Edited for a general British audience, it reflects received ethnographic knowledge, not nationalist debate.
The author, Hamilton Fyfe, had no incentive to provoke or challenge Greek identity. His role was descriptive. That he could matter-of-factly note the Albanian origin of the fustanella while discussing Greek patriotism shows how normalized this understanding still was in Western discourse.
The photograph thus becomes more than illustration. It becomes documentation of a symbolic transfer: Albanian material culture serving the performative needs of a neighboring nation-state.
VII. Conclusion: Calm Sentences, Loud History
The history of the fustanella illustrates a broader truth about nationalism in the Balkans: identities were not built from cultural purity but from selective inheritance.
European travelers, diplomats, and scholars repeatedly identified the fustanella as Albanian in origin. The Greek state, seeking visual cohesion and heroic symbolism, adopted it. By the twentieth century, the adoption had become so complete domestically that its origin faded from popular awareness—yet remained visible to outside observers.
The 1922 encyclopedic caption does not accuse. It does not explain. It simply records. And in historical analysis, such calm records often speak louder than polemic ever could.
Footnotes:
- Hamilton Fyfe, Peoples of All Nations, vol. IV: Georgia to Italy (London: Fleetway House, 1922), 2469, illustration caption “Youthful Patriots of the Kingdom of Hellas.”
- William Martin Leake, Travels in Northern Greece, vol. I (London: John Murray, 1835), 24–26.
- François Pouqueville, Voyage de la Grèce (Paris: Firmin Didot, 1820), esp. vol. II, descriptions of Albanian costume.
- Lord Byron, Letters and Journals of Lord Byron, ed. Thomas Moore (London: John Murray, 1830), correspondence from 1809–1811.
- Edward Lear, Journals of a Landscape Painter in Albania (London: Richard Bentley, 1851), passim.
- George Finlay, History of the Greek Revolution (Edinburgh: William Blackwood, 1861), 45–47.
