For many Vietnamese, chiếu has always been a familiar part of the home, having grown up with these huge mats in the middle of the living room during family gatherings, afternoon naps, and evening hangouts on the hottest days of the year. Mundane and rustic chiếu is present in countless daily moments of the Vietnamese family as a clean surface to sleep or sit on. Could chiếu cói serve an alternative function in the modern age?
Chiếu is a household item traditionally made of cói grass. The stalks are woven into a large, foldable mat that can be unfurled on the ground to provide space for resting. Nguyễn Huỳnh, the founder of Vietnamese brand 100 Đốt, set out to bring these rustic mats into new markets, uplifting the Mekong Delta’s chiếu artisan villages.
Prior to 100 đốt, Nguyễn Huỳnh spent a number of years working in architecture, marketing, and communication. He also operates a cafe chain. While the ventures span across different disciplines, they share Huỳnh’s vision to integrate traditional elements into modern-day Vietnam. Similarly, 100 Đốt is a continuation of that vision.
“I picked chiếu because it’s a material from my childhood and my hometown where I was born. Each grass stalk and weaving pattern carries the touch of our craftsmanship from veteran makers,” he shares. 100 Đốt was born in March 2026.
Nguyễn Huỳnh, the founder of 100 Đốt.
The brand name is a reference to a folk tale called ‘Cây tre trăm đốt’ (The Bamboo Tree With 100 Segments), about a magical bamboo tree that can be assembled and disassembled with a spell. While Nguyễn Huỳnh is the mind behind the brand’s idea development, each resulting bag is born of the labor of many people.
100 Đốt was launched in March 2026.
Huỳnh and the team often go on field trips to artisan villages, not just to place orders, but also to sit down for a chat with villagers and observe firsthand the different steps of production.
Real-life experiences have helped them understand the concerns and mindsets of traditional chiếu makers. By following the production process closely, they can learn the physical limits of the material to make adjustments in the design process.
100 Đốt products
An example of this feedback is how the team experimented and succeeded in developing a layer of water-resistant material to coat the grass mat to boost its durability. Thanks to this protection, chiếu handbags can withstand humidity and molds better.
Right now, 100 Đốt is using two main types of source materials: chiếu made from lác grass of Định Yên Village (Đồng Tháp) and chiếu made from uzu grass of Tân Châu Village (An Giang). The former retains the well-known traditional patterns of chiếu while the latter is thicker with bolder patterns.
A fan, bag, and hat from the brand collection.
The raw grasses might come from different species, but both go through a rigorous treatment process. Grass bushes in the field are washed and dyed before being woven into mats. Nguyễn Huỳnh formed a partnership with local weavers instead of opting for industrial materials as he wishes to stay close to his roots. “Tân Châu is my hometown. When I founded 100 Đốt, I was hoping to return to that place to begin my new journey,” he shares.
From the field to the sewing machine
When chiếu mats leave the village for the workship, that’s when the transformation begins. The production team needs to make sure that the grass threads stay secure during the sewing process. They’re combined with leather, zippers and other metallic components to become the modern-looking bags with a touch of the familiar surface of chiếu.
100 Đốt’s collections also take inspiration from local cultural images, such as the roof of community temples in the Mái Collection, or the curvy seashells in Sò Collection.
Bags made of uzu grass chiếu
“I am the happiest when I see how excited the uncles and aunties are upon seeing the end products. They’re happy that chiếu now has new functions, because that means they can grow the business more and remain in the trade. It’s how I know 100 Đốt is on the right path,” Huỳnh explains.
100 Đốt might have started in fashion, but he has bigger aspirations to expand it into a creative project rooted in Vietnamese culture instead of specific product genres. In the future, Huỳnh hopes to collaborate with many other craft villagers across the nation to bring about new things — like items made from pottery, jute, bronze, fishing nets, or other indigenous materials. “Each material encompasses its own history and stories worthy to be told,” Huỳnh says.
Mái bag on stage at Vietnam International Fashion Week.
Photos courtesy of 100 Đốt.