KJOPSVIK, Norway — When the long winter nights finally melt with the snow, Norwegians in this tiny town on an Arctic fjord are ready for spring. Down comforters are turned out for airing, clotheslines are festooned with drying cod. New native costumes, or bunader, are ready to be picked up from seamstresses who may have taken nearly a year to make them — or treasured heirloom bunader are taken outdoors for freshening, ready for this Tuesday, the most important of the country's national holidays.

On any year, "Syttende Mai," the day Norway adopted its Constitution, is an important celebration. Citizens wear bunader, wave flags and join parades, whether it's through the grand streets of Oslo or tiny Kjopsvik.

This year commemorates the 100th anniversary of Norway's independence from Sweden — a civilized parting without bloodshed. And there will be more celebrating and bunad wearing than ever.

At 84, Hulda Jacobsen will put on her navy-blue wool bunad embroidered with flowers, fasten the silver brooches and slip into her black shoes and take her place in the parade as she has for years. The bunad identifies her as being born in Norway's coastal region — the Lofoten Islands, and even though she has lived in Kjopsvik for decades, she loves it because it reminds her of the island where she grew up, of a small church there and the wildflowers.

The wildflowers were exactly what Arnolda Dahl wanted to capture when in 1926 she designed the Lofoten bunad, saying they were fundamental elements to the bunad because "from the mountain to the fjord, flowers fills the Lofoten soul."

Kjopsvik is perched on the edge of Tysfjord, a deep fjord, surrounded by jagged mountains. Not only can the climate here be harsh, "it's closed in here," she said. "In Lofoten you can see the sea and heaven and the sunrise."

Yet Tysfjord, too, is in her heart, and when entertaining her friends "at kaffe" on the lace-draped table set with rose-sprigged china, she sometimes breaks into the "Tysfjord Song," a song about the hardships of life in the remote fjord — and of its beauty.

"She is like me when I come to Kjopsvik. I am of the sea," said her grandson's friend, Gjertrude Olaisen, 26, who grew up on the island of Lovund and who also has the same style of bunad, a cherished garment made by her grandmother.

"It is important to wear the bunad from your own district. Bunads are not about clothing," she said. "They are about culture and tradition and about someone special making it for you."

A 20th-century phenomenon with historic roots, bunader (more than 80 of them) are registered with the Norwegian Council for Folk Costume. To be registered, a bunad must be designed to be historically accurate for a certain region. Most of the current designs were created early in the 20th century from heirloom clothing found in trunks — the bodice of the Nordlands bunad is based on a wedding dress, for example — and from photos and paintings.

The standardization means that all bunader from a certain region will be exactly alike, with either the pre-cut fabric purchased from a Husfliden shop, which is linked to the folk council, or the entire bunad ordered from there.

Prior to a design being approved, there were often huge debates among the community, as Hulda recalled about the Lofoten bunad.

Since many communities in Norway were isolated by fjords, there are great differences in the style and color of bunader for both men and women. They can be in red silk damask, black wool, have gold trimmings or silver. Headpieces can be embroidered black caps or starched winged wonders shimmering with gold medallions.

Today's bunader often were the daily dress for the Norwegians of long ago — depending on one's wealth. Over centuries, the folk costumes changed along with the availability of fabrics imported from Europe and made locally. The exquisitely crafted bunader people buy today represent the best of yesteryear's folk costumes, and even though they are expensive — up to $4,500 — more men and women are buying them than ever before, a reflection of Norway's flourishing economy.

While women never stopped wearing bunader entirely, only since the 1994 Olympic Games in Lillehammer have the costumes become popular with men.

Previously, men in the cities — like Oslo — regarded them as something elderly country folks wore. But now bunader are common even in downtown Oslo — often in place of a tuxedo.

Most receive their bunad at 15, the time they are confirmed in the Lutheran Church — a tradition in most teenagers' lives. Many people have several bunader during a lifetime as teenagers grow and adults gain weight.

"In Norway, bunads have a habit of shrinking in the closet," laughed Ragnhild Roaldseth, 73, who can no longer wear her green Nordland bunad, in which she got married many years and many children ago. Her granddaughter, Monica Roaldseth Sarassen, 19, also from Bjørnøya island, sympathizes.

Even though Sarassen just completed a year in the Norwegian military it's not the marine uniform — it's her bunad — that's makes her feel "just a bit"p atriotic.

Farther south in Høylandet, teacher Edle Skarland says wearing her bunad makes her feel patriotic as well. On Tuesday she will join the parade through the small town in North Trondelag — where she now lives — wearing the black bunad, showing she was born in a valley near Lillehammer.

Skarland got her first bunad when she was 4. She wore it to church on feast days and recalls how the Nazis — who occupied Norway — forbid Norwegians to wear bunader during World War II. It was a rule she and her mother broke, hiding the clothing under heavy coats.

"Today, I appreciate it very much," she said.

In a country with a long history of being the territory of either Sweden or Denmark, there is an inclination to cherish what is uniquely Norwegian — whether it's language or a bunad.

"Bunads are ours," Skarland said. "It is Norwegian."

In Kjopsvik, Jacobsen is planning for her holiday kaffe — where she will serve sandwiches and several kinds of cakes to friends and relatives. That tradition, too, is distinctly Norwegian. And what better thing to do on such an important day? she asked. Like bunader, like the red-and-blue flag which she will wave in the parade, "it's ours."

Nancy Bartley: 206-464-8522 or nbartley@seattletimes.com