Made Jati grew up the second child of nine in a poor fisherman's family in the beach village of Kuta. She recalls now how her father would come home from fishing with his catch in the early morning hours. Her mother would start the wood fire, while Made and her brothers and sisters sat up sleepily where they had been cuddled together on the large woven pandan mat that was their bed. Their hut soon filled with the delicious smell of the fresh fish roasting and they would eat their late meal to the accompaniment of the dull roar of waves breaking against the shore at the end of their lane.
They were poor and sometimes that roasted fish in the midst of the night would be their only meal of the day. Yet she and her sisters learned to dance, took part in the beautiful temple ceremonies, helped their mother make the intricate daily offerings that they placed in the family temple, at the gate to their home, at the crossroads of the path that led down to the sea, and at the shore to thank the sea for the blessings it gave.
Sometimes, when the family needed extra money, Made and her mother would gather flowers from the wild hedges that grew in abundance about their home, and early the next morning they would rise to catch the pre-dawn truck (there were no buses or cars then) into the market town of Denpasar. There they would set up on a mat beside the road to sell their flowers to the women hurrying to do their market shopping in the cool hours before the sun rose above the horizon. The flowers would save the women a half-hour gathering their own flowers at home for the day's offerings. Made and her mother would finish before the morning was well underway and then they hurried home again where Made could ready herself quickly to reach school still in time for the morning lessons. The money they made in the market was saved for the important holidays of Galungan which came twice a year, when each child would wait with mounting excitement imagining the new sarong with which their mother would surprise each of them on Galungan morning.
In Balinese there is no word for "stranger"; tourists are called tamu, literally "guest", a guest to one's home or to one's village. In the 1960's when foreign guests began to arrive in Made's village, the local people took them into their homes. In the hot afternoons when most Balinese took shelter from the sun, the guests would go down to the beach and burn themselves on the sand. No one knew why they did this and the Balinese felt sorry for them. Made would go down to the beach with a tray of cool drinks, fresh fruit and a few sarongs to offer them. The tourists bought the drinks and fruit to relieve their suffering, sarongs to cover themselves from the burning heat of the sun.
Made's mother set up a small shop on the edge of the sand, a simple thatch roof, a table with a row of soft drink bottles in the center, a bench for the guests to sit. The guests often stopped at Made's mother's shop for a cup of coffee or a soft drink and a bowl of her black rice pudding. Made remembers sleeping on the sand under the table while the strange looking foreigners talked their incomprehensible language far into the night. Sometimes she lay awake listening, making sounds like they did and pretending to herself that she could talk their odd language.
Some of the guests stayed for weeks, some for months. They became friends of the families that took them in. Some of them wanted to buy the local handicrafts to take away and resell in their own countries. Made helped them find things to buy, helped organize their purchases, schedule deliveries. And by the time she was 17, Made had her own small business making lace blouses for the guests to buy.
By the early 1980's, Made was in business exporting thousands of garments every month. A worldwide demand for Balinese lace developed. It was not just because of Made's company, of course - Balinese lace was perfect for surfer girl wear, light, fun and not too expensive, with lots of bright colored birds and butterflies. Made named her company "Uluwatu" after a temple that sits high above the sea and looks down on a surfing spot that was becoming world famous.
The new company became known for high quality and fun styles. Business was good, but by the mid - 1980's the surfer girl fad had died. And with it, most of the other companies producing lace turned to other types of garments.
Uluwatu stayed in business as a smaller company but with a new emphasis on design and quality. Uluwatu turned away from the surfer wear and began to reach back to the roots of Balinese handicraft to create something new.
Hi. I fell in love with Uluwatu’s Balinese lace more than 15 years ago. I came upon an Uluwatu boutique in KL and bought myself a pair of gorgeous white flair pants with lace at the ankles. It was love at first sight! Then a few years later when I came back to the same mall, the boutique was no longer around. It broke my heart. In Dec 2017, I finally managed to set foot in Bali and had Uluwatu set in mind. The moment I came to one of the Uluwatu boutiques, I felt elated that I went on a crazy shopping spree on some apparels but I don’t mind spending so much money on Uluwatu products as I know I am buying good quality products and exquisite worksmanship for the laces…Its all worth it! By the way, I’m a Muslimah who wears hijab. I really hope to see more lacy apparels that caters for the Muslimahs by Uluwatu. Would love to get them! Thank you, Uluwatu, for creating beautiful and comfortable apparels. Keep up the good work! 👍🏼👍🏼
I found your shop and surprised that your handicraft Balinese lace were fine and well made in the mid 1980.
I hope you to continue to create something new.