Thread lightly: The simplest guide to buying top-quality Indian handicrafts

So, we asked handloom-revival experts, indigenous textile advocates, and designers for their best hacks for first-time buyers of traditional textiles. Here’s everything they know, plus a few frills.

Start here

Moneywise. Indian textiles are available in mass-market (cheap) and high-quality (expensive) versions. We’re not judging. Set a budget and buy the best item within it, rather than multiple cheaper things. “Choose quality over quantity,” says designer Shruti Sancheti.

Break it up. A fully handwoven sari or jacket costs more than one with a special weave only on the border. So, start small, with a blouse or stole, if you’re overwhelmed.

Engage all senses. A clever copy might fool the eye, so pay attention to the rustle of the fabric, the stiffness of the folds, the texture of the edges. “The complexity of a weave and motif, the fabric, the number of hues, the types of thread all determine its price,” says Sancheti. Fakes are often brighter, shinier, more perfect-looking than their handmade counterparts. Buy in person when you start out.

Pace yourself. Good collections are not born from birthday-month splurges. Aim to build up over a lifetime.

Stay connected. As you grow up and can afford more items, consider building a collection within a design you love. Reach out to weavers to commission more pieces based on what they sold you earlier. It’s a signature look of the best kind.

The wrap for all seasonsJamawar shawls

Virat Kohli tosses his over kurtas and athleisure. Kareena Kapoor Khan uses them with red-carpet gowns and on holidays in little Swiss towns.

Jamawar pashmina shawls are woven so fine, they add warmth, but never bulk. And they feature paisley and floral motifs in an intricate, labour-intensive tapestry technique called kanni. In the loom, small wooden spools, represent each knot in the weave. The artisan follows a colour-coded design, slowly building patterns in silk, muslin or wool. A single shawl might take anywhere between a few months to a few years to complete.

Most stores will stock one of two kinds of the weave. The Kashmiri style looks much like inlay work; the motifs lie flat against the fabric. The Banarasi version has an embossed finish, and the Tanchoi riff within it simply uses fewer colours.

The fabric is now showing up in garments and even upholstery, says fashion designer Shruti Sancheti. And while shawls and saris remain popular, “the silhouettes have become more contemporary, with skirts, blazers, pants and dresses.”

Do a “feel test” before you buy, says Sancheti. High-quality jamawar is smooth, but with a matte finish, while synthetic versions are shiny. “Original weaves are also irregular, compared to uniform machine-made copies.” The weave has been granted Geographical Indication protection since 2010. Vendors who deal in the real thing will display their certification proudly.

They also won’t cut corners with price. “Real jamawar costs at least ₹12,000-15,000 a metre,” Sancheti says. So, a shawl can start at ₹20,000, and a sari featuring complex craftsmanship can go up to a few lakh rupees. If you’re keen on the weave, start with a stole or fabric for a blouse or waistcoat, she says. “Aim to build a wardrobe of authentic items, not yards of machine-made jamawar.”

Her own brand, Pinnacle, incorporates a lot of the weave. “We looked at museums to and heirloom shawls for motifs and incorporated them into contemporary looks.” She’s filled an entire achkan in swirling black paisley, and worked it into peplum tops, capes and wide-leg trousers.

Join the dotsBandhani and bandhej

Everyone loves bandhani. The little dots are cheerful, the colours bright. Most of it is done on light cotton, making it easier to wear every day than heavy weaves.

Good bandhani, however, is a different beast. The tie-dye technique that yields thousands of little dots on a single cotton or silk dupatta can take six to eight months (and requires complex calculations to determine the position of every pinched dot). “There are special styles, such as the double dot, in which one set of dots is tied before dyeing, and then, another set of dots is tied, each next to the first dot, and dyed again,” says bandhani revivalist and designer Kamaldeep Kaur. “We call one style ‘eternal dot’, because it takes an eternity to tie them all.”

Kamaldeep’s sustainable fashion label, Neelgar, has spent two decades finding and nurturing artisans to build a steady business and reward them with a steady income. “We started with eight women about 18 years ago, now we work with around 3,500 women,” she says. Even within the craft, there are variations. “In Gujarat the dots are circular; in Rajasthan, they look more like a rhombus; in Tamil Nadu, the few artisans who still practise it have a simple style, the dots are spaced far from each other.”

The palette has expanded from traditional saturated greens, reds, yellows, black to gentler powder blue, dove grey, and mauve. Kamaldeep’s experiments with the craft show up in new dot-placement styles. One range is reversible: Classic bandhani, block prints, and wavy leheriya on one side and a patchwork of fabrics in different textures and patterns on the other.

Small dots, closely tied will cost more than larger, easier handiwork. Silk costs more than cotton. Steer clear of souvenir shops that sell neon-hued polyester stoles covered in tiny, perfect dots – it’s a screen-printed scam. Kamaldeep recommends visiting the Calico Museum in Ahmedabad, or Delhi’s Crafts Museum for inspiration.

At Neelgar, dress materials start at ₹7,000 for three metres, stoles start at ₹9,000 and saris can cost up to ₹85,000. “Nupur Kanoi from Kolkata has more contemporary clothing, while Abu Jani Sandeep Khosla does rich bandhani for wedding wear. In Jaipur, Nidhi Tholia does great work in bandhani, producing finely embroidered formal wear.”

Your first block partyAjrakh

It’s hard to think of block-prints as luxurious or exquisite – isn’t that what we wore in college? But Alia Bhatt and Rashmika Mandanna have been wearing elevated versions of ajrakh as saris. “It’s all the rage because of them,” says Tanvi Bikhchandani, co-founder and CEO of sustainable fashion brand Tamarind Chutney.

Few know how complicated it is to create. The Sindhi block-printing craft is now practised predominantly in Rajasthan and Gujarat and the fabric goes through a 16-step process, including washing, dyeing, printing, re-washing and re-dyeing, to create its soft texture and layered geometric designs. Artisans also continue to use natural dyes, such as indigo and madder, says Bikhchandani. They treasure their design blocks and pass them down the generations.

The craft is opening up. Once printed only on fine cotton, the artisans now work with silk, silk-cotton blends, and modal. They collaborate with other textile creators, like bandhej and chanderi and have added new motifs (even emoji) into their blocks. “It’s expanding ajrakh’s appeal in the premium segment, says Tamarind Chutney’s co-founder and design head Charanya Shekar.

It’s easy to tell true ajrakh from fake – just flip the fabric over. Most block prints leave a lighter print on the reverse. Ajrakh, on the other hand, looks the same on the front and back. It also feels smooth and soft from all that washing, and the geometry and symmetry is meticulous. “This attention to detail and balance is a hallmark of the craft,” says Shekar.

And go where the light doesn’t go. Natural dyes typically come in earthy deep green, mustard, red, and blue. “You won’t find pastels, or say, a purple, in genuine ajrakh.” Silk and silk blends cost more than cotton, unique block designs come at a premium and ajrakh-bandhani (or other textile combos) combos can drive the price up further.

Tamarind Chutney sources fabric from three artisans in Ajrakhpur, Gujarat. Their bestseller is a fitted skirt in two versions of the fabric. There are ajrakh jumpsuits, dresses, saris, tops, waistcoats , even a bomber jacket, priced between ₹1,000 and ₹ 5,000.

Men, especially, are enjoying the fabric’s revival. “Some men tend to hesitate before buying printed shirts,” says Bikhchandani. “Ajrakh’s geometric patterns and darker colours appeal to diverse sensibilities.” She recalls a simple stole she bought in 2012 in Ahmedabad. Shekar’s first purchase was some silk fabric for a blouse. “The colours have not faded, the styles are classic, and we both still wear these pieces regularly,” Shekar says.

Rising in the eastMekhala and body cloth

Every handmade object carries with it, a bit of its maker. Backstrap loom fabrics from Nagaland, Arunachal and Mizoram carry much more. The loom is a portable contraption, made of wood or rope, with a strap that wraps around the weaver’s waist. The woman (and it’s always a woman) uses her lower body to control the tension of the warp threads, to create fabrics while also handling farming, family and community work. “Because of the individual and idiosyncratic way each woman weaves, it influences how the weave emerges,” says Kohima-based author and educator, Theyie Keditsu. Keditsu is known online as Mekhala Mama for her efforts to revive interest in the mekhala and other indigenous weaves from the region.

Throughout the region, the patterns are distinctive. Colour schemes, motifs and designs indicate which tribe or community they come from. For much of history, they were just called body cloths. “Now, we’ve started borrowing terms such as shawls, wraps and mekhalas,” says Keditsu. There are other changes too. The cloths used to be predominantly in white, black, red or blue. Now, weavers experiment with every colour, work with cheaper polyester yarn, cotton, and shiny synthetic silk, and the more expensive eri silk.

Use them as a wrap or shawl, drape them like a sari, display them like a dupatta.There’s no long chain of middlemen for this craft. So, the best curators (Keditsu describes them as the “gold standard”) are just town women who’ve spent their lives networking and sourcing from weavers, and run small businesses. Fusion Dimapur, Runway Nagaland, Chizami Weaves, Made in Nagaland and ILandlo, all sell budget-friendly cloths. “These stores still retain the traditional model of leaving the designing and weaving to the individual weaver,” Keditsu says. Kintem does more modern designs. For more occasion-wear head online for Rhozhü Collection, Zhovi, ID Mekhala, The Mekhala Boutique, Weaving Threads 0424, Ipseity.Konyak. Serious collectors, though, wait for Heirloom Naga’s occasional collections.

The good news: A handwoven body cloth is less expensive than other Indian handlooms. Cotton mekhalas start at ₹3,000, with polyester, silk and cloth sets going for up to ₹15,000. Some stores sell jackets. But it’s a tricky pick. “Backstrap loom fabric is thicker, so there are limitations on what you can do with it.”

If you can, check a cloth before you buy. The fabric must feel uniformly firm and tight. “If it’s too loosely woven, the warp and weft start separating and the fabric becomes transparent in patches. When you sit and stand, it may bunch up in places.” And pay attention to how each panel is connected. They were all woven separately, but they should have similar tension. It should feel like one cloth.”

Seasoned wearers never wash their mekhalas. “It ruins the fabric and fit. Just air them out.”

From HT Brunch, February 01, 2025

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