From a Family Garage to Preserving a Textile Legacy: The Story Behind Bibi Hanum

Every brand has a beginning.

Ours began not with an ambition to build a fashion label, but with a family's determination to move forward.

In 2006, after the passing of my father, my sisters and I found ourselves facing an uncertain future. Like many families, we had to adapt, support one another, and create new opportunities. With savings from two jobs, I transformed our family garage into a small atelier. It wasn't glamorous, but it was ours. My mother and brother who lived there supported the idea and with my husband Alisher’s  help with construction and documentation the idea became a reality. 

I named it Velvetine.

Photo: Bibi Hanum's first atelier which was named Velvetine in 2006.

What started as a practical way to support my family soon became something much more. During the week, I balanced two jobs. Evenings and weekends belonged to the atelier, where I immersed myself in design.

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Photo: Fitting ikat jacket on a client in the studio back in 2007.

My sister Surayyo, a trained tailor, brought each idea to life through expert pattern-making and garment construction, while another sister Saodat managed the administrative side of the business. Together, we built something rooted in creativity, resilience, and a shared belief that beautiful things could emerge even from difficult circumstances.

In those early years, sustainability wasn't a fashionable term or a marketing strategy. It was simply how we worked. 

We produced only what was needed. We tailored garments for individual clients rather than mass-producing collections. As the time went and the clientele grew, we hired tailors and assistant designer. We respected every piece of fabric, minimized waste, and believed that clothing should be made to last. Looking back, we realize we were practicing what the world now calls slow fashion long before it became part of the global conversation.

Photo: Laylo (Muhayo's sister) is fitting ikat dress for the child. 

Discovering the Soul of Uzbek Textiles

A turning point came through my travels across Uzbekistan while working alongside a respected textile specialist from New York whose name was Christine Martens dedicated to documenting the rich textile heritage of Central Asia.

Photo: Christine Martens learning details for her article from the Ikat Master from Margilan.

She authored articles for HALI, HanDye, exhibition catalogues, and international publications, introducing the world to the extraordinary craftsmanship of our region.

Photo: Rasuljon (Ikat Master), his mother, Chris and Muhayo, 2008.

Travelling with her became an education that no classroom could have offered.

We visited artisans, workshops, and historic weaving centers. This is where we have met Rasuljon and Fazlitdin, the well-known masters of Ikat of our time today.

I learned not only about the technical processes behind traditional textiles but also about the stories, patterns, and generations of knowledge woven into every fabric.

What fascinated me most was ikat.

Photo: Muhayo visiting Margilan in 2008. Learning about ikat weaving process.

As I was pursuing the path of a professional photographer, I discovered extraordinary historic Uzbek ikats preserved in museums and private collections around the world, admired as masterpieces of textile art. Yet back home, many people viewed these same fabrics as relics of the past—old-fashioned, impractical, and disconnected from modern life.

Photo: Uzbek velvet coat and Ikat fabric panels displayed in Washington Textile Museum. 

That contradiction stayed with me.

How could something celebrated internationally as a cultural treasure be so often overlooked in the country where it was born?

A New Direction

The more I learned about ikat, the more I was captivated by its complexity.

Thousands of silk threads measured with precision. Each section tied by hand. Multiple dye baths. Weeks of weaving before a single piece of fabric emerged from the loom.

Every stage demanded patience, skill, and remarkable craftsmanship.

I realized that preserving this tradition required more than simply admiring it. It needed to become part of everyday life again.

That realization changed the future of my atelier.

Photo: Surayo (Muhayo's sister) cutting ikat.

I made the decision to dedicate our work exclusively to authentic handwoven silk ikat, collaborating closely with skilled artisans to create contemporary garments that honored traditional craftsmanship while speaking to today's women. I needed funding to pursue the goal. I applied for a grant from Netherlands' Prince Clause Fund to revive historical ikat coats and got accepted after careful review process and visits to our workshop. We have been successful in pursuing that goal and revived over two dozen pictured below silk ikat robes that could be wearable today. 

Photo: Revived silk ikat coats.

Our goal was never to recreate history. It was to allow history to continue.

When Sustainability and Heritage Become One

For me, sustainability has always been about more than natural fibers or responsible production.

True sustainability means preserving knowledge.

It means supporting the artisans whose expertise has been passed down through generations.

It means ensuring that centuries-old craftsmanship continues to provide meaningful livelihoods.

It means creating clothing that is treasured, repaired, and worn for years rather than discarded after a single season.

Every Bibi Hanum garment represents this philosophy.

When you choose authentic handwoven silk ikat, you are investing not only in exceptional craftsmanship but also in the future of a living cultural tradition.

Becoming Bibi Hanum

As our vision evolved, it became clear that our name should evolve with it.

Velvetine had represented our beginning.

Photo: Switching from Velvetine to Bibi Hanum. 

But our future required a name that reflected the heritage we had committed ourselves to preserving.

We chose Bibi Hanum, inspired by one of the most remarkable women in Central Asian history. Bibi Hanum, the legendary wife of Amir Temur, was remembered not only for her association with one of history's greatest rulers but also as a symbol of wisdom, strength, dignity, and cultural refinement. Her name remains inseparable from the magnificent mosque in Samarkand that bears her legacy—a monument that continues to inspire generations with its beauty and ambition.

This Is Just the Beginning

Every Bibi Hanum garment has a story, and this is where ours begins.

From a small family atelier to a brand dedicated to preserving Uzbekistan's rich textile heritage, our journey has been shaped by resilience, craftsmanship, and a deep respect for the artisans who keep these traditions alive.

In the coming weeks, we'll be opening our archives to share more of the people, places, and moments that have defined Bibi Hanum over the years. You'll discover the history of Uzbek silk ikat, meet the remarkable artisans behind our fabrics, explore the intricate processes that transform silk into wearable art, and learn how ancient traditions continue to inspire contemporary design.

We invite you to follow along as we share the stories behind every thread, every collection, and every chapter of the Bibi Hanum journey.

This is only the first page of our story.

Photo: Laylo and Mohinur. Portrait made by Muhayo. 2013.