Along with muscular arms, a kova tembel – “fool’s hat” – and windblown locks of hair, in photos from the early days of the pre-state Jewish community in Palestine, ATA clothing is also prominent. The cotton fabrics the textile company wove and from which garments were sewn, dubbed Tzava (army) and Katzin (officer), were used for work clothes for new immigrants as well as for uniforms and tents for the British army during World War II, and later for the Israel Defense Force.
ATA was thus the manufacturer of the unofficial uniform of budding Israeliness – unpretentious, not ostentatious, somewhat militaristic. There is great irony in the fact that today – 87 years after its establishment, 37 years after it went out of business and five years after it was reestablished by entrepreneur and publicist Shahar Segal and Yael Shenberger, its chief designer – the company takes pains not to be suspected of manufacturing clothing for the army (it no longer makes the fabrics themselves).
“We manufacture in a plant in the Gaza Strip, and therefore we can’t send in rolls of khaki-colored fabrics, because then they will suspect me and the factory that manufactures garments for me of making uniforms for the IDF,” says co-owner Shenberger, adding that historically ATA also produced clothing in the Strip.
Models wearing ATA’s denim collection for 2021.
Dudi Hasson
Shenberger: “A Gazan manufacturer once told me in tears that he saw the ATA logo and almost fainted, because his father had been its biggest corduroy producer. In Gaza there are amazing professionals – seamstresses and tailors who specialize in many things, but who were starved when it came to technology. They had good machinery, yet slowly but surely it couldn’t be maintained and there was a lack of spare parts. In terms of human capital, which is the most important thing, they have no competitors. They work extremely well and it’s evident that there’s some kind of joy of creation in the air. There’s a strong DNA that’s also transferred to the clothing, and that moves me.”
How do you ensure that their employment conditions are decent?
“The employment conditions of the people I work with don’t in any way resemble those of people working for fast fashion brands like Zara or H&M, which can claim they have no idea what goes on in their factories. I don’t work through intermediaries, but directly with the factory owner, who comes to Tel Aviv in order to get prototypes of the clothes, and I meet him personally.
“He shows me pictures of the factory. He also keeps me informed about the progress of the work, and sends me videos of the workers. Can I tell you that I have a representative who checks the employment conditions there? No, I don’t, but I see who works, I see where they work. I see the garments; I know who the people are who sewed them. I know they are employed in entirely decent conditions – they make a good living, they have transportation home, they are protected during periods when there’s no work – by means of commercial and economic cooperation. And beyond that, genuine relations of respect and cooperation have developed between us.”
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A quintessential symbol of Israel: Kova Tembel – “fool’s hat” in Hebrew. ATA’s hats are produced in Gaza.
Avi Waldman
‘The most political thing’
The flare-up of hostilities between Israel and Hamas in Gaza last May provided ATA with an interesting opportunity to examine the stability of this partnership, via the manufacture of the kova tembel – the embodiment of Jewish settlement in the Land of Israel – in a factory in the Strip. A joint endeavor was created involving the veteran Israeli brand, The New Denim Project, a textile plant in Guatemala that produces fabrics recycled from industrial surplus, and with Industry of All Nations, a company established by three Jewish brothers from Argentina, which specializes in dealing with iconic national items, such as Mexican espadrilles, Bolivian sweaters from alpaca wool and naturally dyed indigo shirts from India.
“This hat is the most political thing I’ve ever made,” declares Shenberger. “I wanted to do it in the plant in Gaza, which I love and admire, but then came [the holy month of] Ramadan and people worked less. There was a delay in the timetable I had promised, but I waited until the holiday ended, and afterward there was Eid al-Fitr [the holiday concluding Ramadan] – and right then the war started. My entire plan spiraled out of control.
“The war disrupted the manufacturing process of the hat, because it was impossible to bring goods into Gaza or to get the ready-made items back from them. At the same time there was tension with Israeli Arabs with whom we work, and with whom we have a close and personal relationship. They saw on television how Israel was shelling Gaza and I watched how missiles [from Gaza] were paralyzing Israel. Internal conflicts developed. It was very complicated.”
To meet the tight deadline Shenberger had committed to, in spite of the problems, the hats were hand sewn from recycled fabrics from The New Denim Project. “Because it’s not an assembly line, the nature of the sewing and those who did it are noticeable,” she says, pointing to a cloth label hidden in the lining of one of the hats. “It’s the most ‘Made in Israel’ thing there is. Three amazing seamstresses, who didn’t give up, sewed these hats with Sisyphean, local and genuine manual labor.”
Shenberger does not share the ironic reaction aroused by the fact that even ATA clothing sewn in Gaza bears the same “Made in Israel” label.
“There’s no such thing as Made in Gaza because there is no such political entity as yet,” she says. “The garments manufactured by the historic ATA from the 1940s has a label in Hebrew, English and Arabic: ‘Made in Palestine.’ But that’s no longer the case today. We write on the label whatever is requested, the simplest and most banal thing. We’re living in a complex situation, in which it’s important to us to be as local as possible. We aspire to do as little damage to the environment as possible – not to transport goods and to manufacture close to home.
Chief designer Yael Shenberger. ‘This hat is the most political thing I’ve ever made.’
Meir Cohen
“Professions involving manual repairs (cobblers, tailors, upholsterers), among the most important kinds of trades when it comes to sustainability, are now in danger of extinction. In our environment, people who know how to sew are usually immigrants from countries with a tradition of sewing – Russians or Iraqis, for example. But there aren’t any new waves of immigration from those countries, and the tailors and seamstresses who work here are gradually growing old.
“We’re sinking further and further into a superficial reality, one of a constant pursuit for the next big thing. Things lose their value with dizzying speed, it’s easier to throw out the shirt and buy a new one, rather than sewing on a button. I want ATA to teach people to sew on a button again.”
How will you do that? Start sewing circles?
“You may laugh, but historically ATA practiced the most sustainability you can imagine. When I did research before the reopening of the company, I discovered amazing stories – about how the fabrics were cut carefully and out of a desire to waste as little as possible. From the remnants they would sew pockets. I found women’s suits with something strange hanging on them, and at first I didn’t understand what it was. Later I realized that they were sleeves that were not attached to the outfit. The wearer could choose whether to wear the suit without sleeves or to sew them onto the suit; in that way she actually had two items in one.
“That was based on the assumption that the person buying the suit knows how to sew, a skill that few people learn anywhere today. We can teach people the values of the past by enabling customers to return an old ATA item of clothing and to get some credit for it. The customer will benefit because they have a place to return garments they have no use for. I, who will transform it into a clean, new item of clothing will benefit from the returning customers, and whoever buys the item at a discount will benefit from it. Everyone will end up satisfied.”
You could say that ATA’s socialist values have been replaced by capitalist values. The prices are still quite high.
A model wearing ATA clothes.
Orit Pnini
“Clearly this isn’t philanthropy; it’s a business that has to sell, survive and make money. The historic ATA was also a huge business with a turnover of millions, but if you take the socialist values of the 1940s and ’50s – today we’re trying to preserve those same values in our manufacturing process, which will be as green as possible. Moreover, the motivation to reestablish ATA wasn’t related to making money. Fashion designers don’t become wealthy. We’re not a chain and we’re not in the malls, and our prices are in accordance with the amount of investment involved in our garments, the materials from which they’re sewn, and the fact that we believe that they can be worn for a long time. That is ‘value for money.’
Models wearing ATA’s denim collection for 2021.
Dudi Hasson
“I checked the prices of ATA in the past. I found a lot of labels with prices and dates and sent them to someone who can tell me how much three liras then is worth today. It really wasn’t free. The big difference is in the way people used to buy clothes. Back in the day, at ATA, people would buy clothes only four times a year. They weren’t cheap, but they were popular in terms of aesthetics, they lasted for a long time and they were handed down in a family for generations. Manufacturing today costs much more than it did then. The question that should be asked today is why the item is cheap – and not why it’s expensive.”
Israeli Arab roots
To a great extent, the ATA enterprise tells the story of the Israeli textile industry – and perhaps also that of many of the educated and aristocratic immigrants who came to this country from Europe. The name of the company was chosen arbitrarily, due to its location on the ruins of the Arab village of Kufritta (later Kefar ATA, and today Kiryat ATA), by its founder Erich Moller. Moller was the scion of a well-to-do Jewish family of textile manufacturers from Austria, which owned a factory for spinning cotton threads in the village of Babi in Czechoslovakia.
Moller discovered Zionism when he was in captivity in Siberia during World War I, and became convinced that his family had to take an active part in building a Jewish state in the Land of Israel. The name ATA was subsequently imbued with meaning by then-future Nobel laureate S.Y. Agnon, who came for a visit to Moller’s house and suggested a Hebrew acronym: “Arigim Totzeret Artzeinu” (or, textiles made in our country).
In its early years, the factory, which included a spinning department, a weaving department and a dyeing facility – a revolutionary idea at the time, when small workshops dominated the landscape – did not manufacture clothing, but rather threads and three types of cloth, all cotton. World War II was a good time for the company: Because of its size and capabilities, ATA was chosen to make uniforms for the British army and clothing for citizens and military personnel in the Yishuv, the Jewish community. At Moller’s initiative a chain of ATA clothing stores was opened, which at its height boasted 120 branches. ATA flourished during Israel’s austerity period after the establishment of the state. Its high-quality garments were popular and reinforced its status in the growing Israeli market.
A model wearing clothes by ATA.
Orit Pnini
In the 1960s, and especially after the Six-Day War, the country’s fashion industry flourished: Israel Fashion Week was launched, numerous clothing shops and boutiques were opened, and people’s fashion sense developed and became more sophisticated. Demand for the goods produced by ATA, which had difficulty adapting itself to the changing market at that time, gradually declined. Its manufacturing facility had problems and changed hands several times until the company went bankrupt. The factory itself was demolished in 1995 and the popular Kiryon Mall was built in its place; most of its stores sell clothing imported from abroad.
The historic ATA offered a uniform look. What is its place in fashion today, in an era of extreme individualism and endless numbers of trends?
“Clothes have to leave room for the person who wears them. You can actually really see a person when they wear a uniform. It’s true that on the one hand there’s a blurring of a person’s individualism inside the clothing, but on the other hand, it actually emphasizes their character. I think ATA clothing still has a type of homogeneity that enables a person to be comfortable inside himself.
“At the end of the day, I’m busy deciphering that ATA aesthetic, and I try to do so delicately and very carefully. We recently recreated exercise pants, we copied them one-on-one from 1940, and they’ve become a hit. The same was true of the Berta Blouse, which became the most popular item on our website this year.
“And it’s not that anyone knew it was a recreated item, but apparently there are things that are bigger than us, at this moment in time. Maybe people connect automatically to a feeling of nostalgia, to some longing that they can’t exactly put their finger on. These are things that are beyond time and place. The biggest joke that Shahar tells about me is that I was never in fashion – and that’s why I’m never out of fashion either. That’s ATA – to a tee.”
