The Hatmaker of Marrakech: How a milliner’s search for a niche reflects his nation’s quest for an identity in an increasingly homogeneous world

Only a handful of hats are displayed on the store’s bare wooden shelves. “Our hats are all custom handmade,” explains the portly proprietor in heavily accented English. Two middle-aged patrons — a man and a woman — nod in unison from their seats by the counter. The small shop, in the Guliz district of Marrakech, looks as though it’s been here since the 1920s when the French built the area. I can picture Alfred Hitchcock taking a break from filming The Man Who Knew Too Much to order a bespoke Panama or a fedora.

The hats are elegant but pricey, costing 30 times more than the Chinese-made straw sun hats you can find in the old city. But they’re a bargain compared with the designer hats you can buy in the smart shops at the gleaming new M Avenue mall, some 15 minutes walk away. Are they stylish enough to be worn back in Boston? Or authentic enough to serve as a souvenir? On this trip, I’ve pondered the same question in the leather goods store making modern, ostentatiously Moroccan handbags; in the boutique selling elegant sequined kaftans, and in the gallery showcasing local artists. Over and over, I have wondered whether there’s room for quality Moroccan artisanship between the cheap Chinese and expensive European goods.

And what is an authentic outfit in today’s Morocco anyway? The men — and it is still only men — who patronize the corner cafes in Guliz wear khaki or jeans and shirts. The women wear discreet pants suits and dresses, sometimes accompanied by a scarf wrapped to cover their hair. Styles in the Zara store here are no different than the ones you can find in similar stores in London or Madrid. Only in Medina do a good number of locals walk around in traditional Kaftans. There are no bourkas anywhere.

The first wave of modernity

The French brought modernity to Morocco along with colonialism, early in the twentieth century. In Marrakech, Guliz — its name derived from the French église, meaning “church” — housed Europeans and Westernized Moroccans, at home among its broad boulevards, leafy back streets, art deco moviehouse, corner cafes, and open markets. Here Jews, Muslims, and Christians lived side by side, sending their children to the same French school. Even today, you can find menorahs embossed on the side of local houses or mezuzahs on door posts. Further to the south, the French created L’Hivernage as the winter playground of rich Europeans, with gardens and villas and, of course, the palatial hotel La Mamounia, where Churchill and Roosevelt stayed, and so did Charlie Chaplin and Kirk Douglas.

Now, Guliz is changing. In the new mall that has replaced the open market, a large Carrefour supermarket is slowly but surely pushing the local butcher and baker out. Even so, the generic boxes of fruit displayed under LED lights in the supermarket are no match for the riot of colorful produce piled on the vendors’ carts on every corner.

The New Modernity

The “new” modernity is American: brash and industrial. The government is diligently trying to bring the country into the twenty-first century and revive the economy. The goal is to make Morocco the highest gateway to Africa, instead of the “low wage, low skill” place it’s become for European manufacturers. The country wants to “add value” and build to “scale.” Science and engineering education and foreign investments are the keys. A brand new, state-of-the-art engineering school is rising in the desert, even as some older institutes of higher education suffer from a lack of funding. On my flight to Marrakech, a group of Israeli businessmen was discussing business opportunities in Morocco. And yet, I sense a reluctance, even amongst the young, to fully buy into this “innovation ecosystem”. and a desire to forge something more local but modern.

In the shuffle of old and new, Medina is safe. Three million tourists come to see it every year. They don’t care if most of its houses are now either Riads — small hotels — or rented out on Airbnb. But Guliz is not safe. Never mind that the area is a century old, with a distinct Moroccan-art deco architecture. Its style — unique as it may be — is not recognized as a UNESCO world heritage site. Meanwhile, many of its residents are moving to the city’s outskirts.

A Look Back

Marrakech reminds me of Tehran of the 60s and 70s, before petrodollars put the city on steroids, leading ultimately to the megalopolis of 15 million souls it is today. Maybe it’s their shared hot, dry climate, or their location between desert and mountains — although Tehran is practically built on the mountainside–that makes both nations appreciate going out at night and picnicking by the river on weekends. Maybe it’s the architecture: a mix of 1930s European buildings and an idealized local style — Berber in Marrakech, Achaemenid/Sessanid in Tehran. Or could it be the people? Moroccans, like Iranians, are a mixed lot; a spectrum of complexions from onyx to pearl attest to the centuries of intermixing at the crossroads of trade and culture.

Or maybe it’s the foreboding sense that an earlier wave of modernization — already absorbed by a culture used to assimilation — is giving way to a new modernization tsunami. This one necessitates a frantic search for a future-looking national identity: an Iranian-ness or Moroccan-ness. In Iran back then, against a backdrop of increasing economic pressure and deepening inequalities, the onslaught of materialism stripped the county of its soul, driving the young to look to its Islamic heritage for inspiration. The young university students donned scarves to line up to hear Ali Shariati paint a picture of a modern, spiritual, and equitable Islamic golden age Islam in Iran of that time was tolerant and spiritual, just like it is in Morocco today. But those sermons and the ones like it — perhaps inadvertently — opened the door to a far less tolerant and brutal Islam of the current regime.

I pray that Moroccans find a better way forward.

In the shop, I try on a hat.

“Très Joli,” exclaims the middle-aged patron as she sips her mint tea.

It’s attractive, but a bit too big. I don’t have time for the milliner to make me a new one. I take another look at my reflection in the mirror, then buy the hat. I can always find a way to make it smaller — on Amazon, where else?