India's textile legacy is a breathtaking mix of history, culture, and artistry. Each region boasts unique textile traditions, from the intricate Kantha embroidery of Bengal to the vibrant Patola silks of Gujarat. These textiles are not just fabrics; they are testaments to the ingenuity and creativity of generations of Indian artisans. However, with the advent of industrialisation and globalisation, many of these traditional crafts have faced the threat of extinction.
However, a new generation of designers is stepping up to safeguard this heritage. They are collaborating with skilled artisans, reviving forgotten techniques and reimagining traditional motifs for contemporary audiences. These designers are not just reviving old traditions but creating a new era of sustainable, ethical, and culturally significant fashion.
The depiction of a Mahasiddha Tantipa (weaver) working a type of foot loom in the rock-cut Gon-Nila-Phuk Caves, located in a village called Saspol, is evidence that weaving in Ladakh can be traced to the 12th century. And that is just the tip of the iceberg.
Various historical and socio-economic factors have shaped Ladakh’s weaving practices. While being vital crossroads on the Silk Route meant the prestigious silk brocade flourished under the royal family’s patronage, the nomadic pastoralists of Changthang fought the biting cold by giving the world “soft gold” or pashmina.
Despite this longstanding history, when Jigmat Couture’s founders, Jigmat Norbu and Jigmat Wangmo, returned to Ladakh in 2008 after studying textile design, they realised that the region’s legacy was still a secret. “When we were designing custom pieces for our wedding, I had to get most of the silk brocade fabric during my travels in China. I realised the beautiful local textiles, traditionally used domestically, weren't being commercially explored. There were not a lot of tailors or design studios working with them,” says Norbu.
As a result, after two years of research, the husband-wife duo set up their eponymous label. Committed to preserving and reviving Ladakh’s textile heritage, their designs are not just made using locally crafted weaves but are also inspired by traditional silhouettes.
For example, the overlays from the “Lungmar” collection are fashioned after the traditional Shanglak robe (made using sheep skin) worn by the Changpas. Like the traditional garb, these also feature elegant Tibetan silk brocade and felt applique. Even more contemporary silhouettes like trousers, vests, and dresses feature hand-embroidered traditional patterns on native woollen textiles that are naturally dyed.
The process of creating such a line is long-drawn. “My wife designs while I focus on the textile unit, which operates as a self-sustained ecosystem. Our process begins by sourcing wool directly from nomads, ensuring they receive a fair price. We carefully select the finest wool based on its colour, fineness, and source, often travelling to meet with nomads. The wool is then hand-spun by our weavers, primarily composed of women, using traditional techniques, followed by natural dyeing with plants and minerals, and finally woven on different types of looms to achieve the desired fabric,” Norbu explains.
Since most of the textile heritage only exists as oral history, the couple is also determined to archive it, which led them to establish the Jigmat Couture Textile Museum of Ladakh.
Norbu says, "People have become increasingly interested in Ladakh and want to learn more about its art, craft, and culture. Since we were already involved in textiles, we decided to contribute by creating a resource centre. With the support of well-wishers like Dr Monisha Ahmed and Dr Alka Pande, both renowned historians who have published extensively on textiles, we were encouraged to make the most of our centrally located property. Over time, we accumulated a significant collection of textiles, including family pieces and donated items, which led us to establish a subject-oriented museum."
While their label has garnered international acclaim and their creations hang on the walls of prominent museums, such as Delhi’s National Museum, Norbu is most proud of the impact on the next generation. He says, “In Ladakh, the situation is quite different because it's a small community. One success story can inspire others. Around four or five new brands have emerged in the last five years. We also run a residency where we encourage young artists to come and work with us. New graduates often face financial pressure but still have a fresh, creative mindset. We offer them a space to explore. So things are changing for us, and we’re happy to be a part of it.”
If you spot somebody wearing a wispy, yellow jamdani top to brunch in London, it is probably from Péro. With 35 stores worldwide, Péro’s bohemian, bright and playful designs have travelled far and wide. Yet, they are firmly rooted in India.
Even the label’s first collection, which debuted in 2010, featured checkered weaves from different regions. “While raw silk was my first significant encounter during my student years at NID, I was drawn to checkered fabrics. I realised that every region in India has its own version of checks, whether it’s in lungis, gamchhas, or saris. I started working with gamchha checks from West Bengal and gradually incorporated various techniques from different regions,” says founder Aneeth Arora.
It has been 14 years since then, and Arora’s fascination with Indian textiles remains intact. Every collection features at least five traditional textiles. This has led her to explore all that there is, from the popular chanderi to the lesser-known pattu weave from Kullu. What sets Péro’s designs apart is Arora’s inimitable skill of putting a fun spin on traditional patterns and motifs, such as creating polka dots using traditional weaving styles like ikat and jamdani.
But it is her team of artisans that have instilled this confidence to experiment in her. She says, “We’ve worked with the same craftspeople for over 15 years. It’s about mutual growth—we depend on each other to thrive in this ecosystem. While it may be challenging to change the traditional designs, they’re quick learners and are open to adapting when they see the results.”
It is then no surprise that Arora has always been vocal about the effort that goes into handwoven creations and why they must be deemed as “luxury.”
Arora even reveals that, at Péro, the work for each collection begins two years in advance to suit the artisans’ pace. “They need to have that kind of time to produce good work. Even if they don’t have enough time to celebrate their festivals, it is reflected in their work. It is our way of showing respect for their skill,” she says.
While the fashion landscape looked Westwards over a decade ago, Arora, one of the first few designers to make Indian textiles cool, pleasantly acknowledges that consumers and designers have come a long way, but there are more miles to cover.
She says, “When we started in 2009, there were very few designers working with Indian textiles. Now, customers are not only willing to pay for these textiles, but they also know the techniques behind them. More Indian crafts are gaining global recognition, and with that visibility, the perception of luxury has evolved. People appreciate the effort and skill behind these textiles, so they’re willing to invest in them.”
Manjushree Saikia hails from Naruathan, a small village located on the edge of Assam. She grew up observing her grandparents create eri silk, from start to finish: from rearing the silkworms to separating the fibres from the cocoon to weaving the yarn.
“Every household had their own farm and loom set-up. The textiles that were made were often exchanged as gifts or bartered. It is a way of life there,” she says.
Considered to be one of the most expensive textiles in India, the creation of the eri silk was so deeply embedded into her daily life that Saikia didn’t really understand its value till she moved to Mumbai to study textile design at NIFT. "When one is immersed in a process, it's easy to take it for granted. Moving to the city from my rural village opened my eyes to their complexity. I realised that weaving the eri silk is a skill only a few have," reflects Saikia.
Moving away to another city brought Saikia closer to her home, inspiring her to start her own label, Ura Maku, in 2018. “As a student, I realised that when we talk about Indian textiles, Northeastern textiles are barely represented. And since this is a part of me and my family legacy, I wanted to embrace it and make people aware through my designs,” says Saikia.
For the young designer, who was then fresh out of college, the goal was simple and personal: to give the eri, mulberry, and muga silks a place in a modern woman’s closet. Saikia even points out how that inspired the name—in Assamese, “Ura” means “to fly," and “Maku” translates to the shuttle tool.
“Our brand symbolises someone who dares to fly high but remains rooted, which is why our silhouettes are minimal, structured and modern even though we use traditional textiles,” says Saikia. The eri silk crop jacket and godet skirt from Ura Maku’s latest collection are brilliant examples of this duality. While the ivory white jacket features traditional, naturally dyed, deep-red weft motifs, the skirt is an eye-catcher with its fluid fall on the sides. Saikia, who is inspired by the minimalism of Japanese fashion and, in particular, designer Yohji Yamamoto, says, “I want to ensure that our designs are timeless and not trend-driven, but also unique, which is why I like to study the historical evidence of fashion.”
While the brand has gained international attention in these six years, Saikia continues to work with the artisans from her village, including her aunt and other family members. This close association with them has made Saikia rethink her approach to growing Ura Maku. “At one point, I aspired to become a big designer, but I’ve realised that slow fashion doesn’t align with the goals of large brands. I’ve learned that when you’re based in a region where weaving is a way of life, pushing people to produce more or become professional weavers can dilute the authenticity. If I try to break that harmony, it’s no longer slow fashion,” she says.
When we moved to Erode twenty years ago, our neighbourhood was surrounded by looms. The noise they produced was so loud that, for the first three or four months, I couldn't sleep. But gradually, that sound became a melody to me and a part of my life. If I had to summarise my childhood, it would be with the sounds of the looms,” says Mayank Bhutra of Erode Clothing.
Founded in early 2023, the label has quickly become a head-turner with its contemporary designs using the GI-tagged Bhavani Jammakkalam, a centuries-old craft of carpet weaving. The brand’s striped “little wing” overall was also seen on the British designer Tan France recently.
However, for Bhutra, who has no formal education in fashion, the decision to centre a high-street fashion brand on a textile typically used to make carpets was an emotional one. The idea came to Bhutra when he returned to Bhavani to buy Jammakkalams but was met with officials unwilling to take his order. He says, “Growing up, I had always seen my family gift Jammakkalams that were made to order. But when I returned after so many years, things were different. I was told that there were simply not enough weavers left anymore to make them." It was Bhutra’s chance meeting with a weaver named Pandiyan and his son that gave him confidence. “One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced is convincing the weavers to continue. Many are demoralised and ready to give up, but Pandiyan’s energy and optimism were a turning point for me, and we’re still working with him to this day. At 44, he’s one of the younger weavers,” he says.
While the label’s vibrant, fresh, androgynous silhouettes using the coarse Jammakkalam break the mould, Bhutra believes it will take much more to ensure the craft survives even after releasing three successful collections in a year. “When I first started working with Jammakkalam weavers, many weavers told me that they had been documented and written about for years, but nothing had changed for them. What was once a community of 1,500 people is now reduced to just 70 or 80 weavers. And this number will only dwindle in the next few years. Younger generations need to see the value in these crafts, but societal perceptions also need to change. Even if a weaver earns more than a white-collar professional, they will still be considered less successful.”
Other reasons Bhutra identified for Jammakkalam’s decline are the lack of experimentation and the interference of middlemen. He believes that there is light at the end of the tunnel if designers form a long-term partnership with the weavers.
“In terms of the trend of brands using heritage textiles with a modern twist, I don’t think that alone will help in the long term. It may raise awareness, but it doesn’t necessarily ensure the craft's survival. We need to ensure that weavers earn a sustainable income. Without this, there’s little motivation for them to continue their work. Many weavers who have faced hardships don’t want their children to experience the same. Our focus is on in-depth collaboration with the craftspeople, ensuring the survival and growth of these crafts. That’s the core of Erode Clothing.”