India in Fashion: Chapter 1
Versatile garments, regional dress, and national identity.
I’ve given myself a unique challenge: rather than set out to read the encyclopedic entirety of India in Fashion, I picked a selection of just a few chapters to cover each week. I thought this would give me a focused task, a narrowly guided expedition into a wide world of textiles, and a glimpse of the traditions and refined skills developed and shared for generations. This may have been a fine approach, as I maintain I am not here to transcribe the entire encyclopedia in blog form. But can I just say—it is challenging to talk about the traditions of dress of one of the oldest civilizations on earth without talking about all of that history!
But I’m taking it one week at a time, and hopefully after a few weeks I’ll have painted a picture that isn’t full of gaping holes. This week I set out to cover two chapters to learn about just a few of the garment and textile traditions of India: Indian Embroidery in Fashion and A Brief History of Saris. I threw in A History of Indian Dress, which provided a great foundation for those other two chapters and the rest of this historical expedition!
A Brief History of Saris
To quote the first sentence of the book, “The fashion history of India cannot be defined easily or clearly to the rest of the world.” This couldn’t ring more true for me, as I become increasingly bewildered (and awestruck) by the national identity of dress that is so prevalent in India. Many countries have national garments; kimonos, kilts, and lederhosen come to mind. But as fashions and cultural identities have shifted throughout generations, these examples have largely been relegated to specific ceremonial or historical dress, reserved for special occasions.
The same cannot be said for the sari: with roots traced to ancient civilizations as early as 3000 BC, saris have endured changing rulers, shifting geopolitical boundaries, and the influence of Western culture, and they are still worn today, every day. The sari is an unstitched garment, roughly 5 meters long, worn by women in almost every region of India and of all ages (though perhaps styled more traditionally in older generations and more creatively in younger groups). Saris can be worn over a hundred different ways and the various drapes were, and are, indicative of wealth and status. While a sari can be as much an expression of personal style as it is a utilitarian garment, how it is draped over the body is influenced by the type of work (or lack thereof) one intends to do while wearing it.
The drapes have a variety of names:
Koli, almost resembling pants in how it’s wrapped, used in fishing villages;
Kunbi, a calf-length drape with front pleats to allow for ease of movement;
Maar Kachha is delicate and intended for upper-class women.
Saris are available in a range of styles, from intricate embroidered works of art to unembellished, minimalist styles, offered at a range of prices. Like fine wine, it is hard to discern an expensive sari from a more affordable one*, and both may be worn for the same occasions. Saris are treated as both ready-to-wear, everyday dress and as garments for special occasions, weddings, pujas, and other rituals.
Indian Embroidery in Fashion
While spinning and weaving cloth was commonplace and a basic requirement for any ancient civilization to survive, the use of embellishment, such as embroidery, was a mark of advanced society where both expert craftsmanship and a demand for luxury goods were able to flourish. Embroidery styles throughout India reflect regional differences in motifs and aesthetics.
Here is a (non-exhaustive) list and identifying features of the various regional styles of embroidery in India:
Phulkari (Punjab):
Bold, geometric floral patterns embroidered with silk floss on coarse cotton.
Kantha (West Bengal & Bangladesh):
Simple running stitches creating intricate motifs, often on layered cloth — traditionally recycled saris.
Chikankari (Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh):
Delicate, white-on-white hand embroidery with fine floral motifs — known for its subtle elegance.
Zardozi (Mughal-influenced, North India):
Opulent metallic threadwork with gold and silver, often on velvet or silk — used for royal garments.
Mirrorwork (Gujarat & Rajasthan):
Colorful embroidery incorporating small mirrors (shisha) — highly decorative and reflective.
Kutch Embroidery (Gujarat):
Dense, vibrant patterns with geometric designs, mirrorwork, and bold color combinations.
Traditionally, men have been responsible for any kind of professional embroidery work, such as that commissioned by a patron or produced for export; women have been more involved in domestic work and passing down the traditions to the next generation. Today, however, more and more women are accessing professional opportunities to employ their fine skills and expert craftsmanship.
Having read all of that, it’s hard to believe that India was often portrayed by colonial writers as lacking in any sort of fashion or individual style. The people of India were master craftspeople—spinners, weavers, dyers, printers, embroiderers, with knowledge and skills passed down generation after generation—who created (and create still) some of the finest cottons, wools, and silks the world has seen. India was the greatest exporter of textiles in the world during the height of the Mughal dynasty, from the mid-16th to mid-18th century. This was threatening to the economies of Europe, and the Industrial Revolution brought about technologies that could faithfully replicate the fineness of Indian threads and fabrics. Britain’s dominance in the reproduction of textiles, coupled with their colonial rule of India and heavy tariffs imposed on the exports of domestic handcrafts, was devastating to the preservation and proliferation of the craft traditions so interwoven with the historical identity of India.
This is my favorite part of the story: the part where fabric and dress speak and tell a story to effect change. In a movement to reclaim national independence and revive the traditions that were all but lost to India, Gandhi adopted a symbolic “uniform” of khadi fabric, a humble hand-woven cotton fabric made from hand-spun yarns from modest huts all over India. It became a symbol of self-reliance, resistance, tradition, and ultimately a rejection of fabric imports from Britain (bonfires were held to burn the fine chiffons and velvets, GO INDIA).
In the wake of their newly regained independence, India revived its handcrafted excellence in textiles. As if it is woven into the land itself, the people of India resumed the embroidery and block printing so entwined with their national identity. To quote the book again: “[Gandhi and his contemporaries] would find the present situation miraculous—a country in which almost every traditional craft has been revived.”
And today, India has a robust and unique voice in fashion, with contemporary designers who create couture works of art while keeping a keen eye on the national identity of dress. If you haven’t yet watched Rahul Mishra’s miraculous couture collection showcased in Paris last week, run, don’t walk.
*more on luxury saris next week.
Resources:
From India in Fashion, edited by Hamish Bowles (Rizzoli, 2023)
— “A Brief History of Saris.”
— “Indian Embroidery in Fashion.”
— “A History of Indian Dress.”