Even today in Kolhapur, an artisan stitches a pair of sturdy, earthy, elegant chappals and prices them at a mere ₹1,000. These are not known as a style product but are hugely functional. You wore them when your ‘real’ shoes betrayed you, or when you needed a desi touch to an otherwise confused Indo-Western outfit.
Kolhapuri chappals never graduated to being ‘cool’; they were just cheap and convenient.
And then Prada happened – that temple of overpriced fabric and foreign validation launched its version of the Kolhapuri chappal at a jaw-dislocating ₹1.2 lakh. Suddenly, it was no longer footwear, but fashion. And soon, it would be found protectively on the feet of celebrities and in the filtered visuals of Instagram.
This is the story of Indian pride – or the lack thereof. We, including me, born in free India but genetically carrying the dormant old colonial virus of cultural self-doubt… until the West sneezes on our traditions, and we catch a fashionable cold.
Yoga? We rolled our eyes when our elders asked us to inhale and count to ten. Then Hollywood got a whiff of it, Gwyneth lit a few scented candles, and suddenly we were all posing on Instagram — #NamasteFromNewYork — and now we even have an International Yoga Day.
Haldi? Grandma’s remedy for everything from acne to arthritis was once dismissed as a joke. Now it’s Turmeric Latte at Starbucks, thank you very much. ₹400 a cup to sip something your dadi forced down your throat for free.
Aloe vera? Once ignored and only noticed when it poked you while walking past the garden. Now it’s sold in minimalist bottles with botanical fonts, certified “organic” by someone in California, and costs more than a monthly gas bill.
Charpai? Oh, that old rickety thing in the verandah where grandpa snoozed in the afternoon. Today, it’s “rustic, sustainable seating” at boutique resorts, charging ₹12,000 a night for a room with no AC and a swarm of mosquitoes.
Beedi? Well, that one’s still taboo — but if Johnny Depp smokes it in a film called Beedi Nights, we’ll soon have a handcrafted beedi bar in Bandra, where you can pair it with cinnamon-infused rum and guilt.
Which brings us back to the Kolhapuri chappal, our latest victim of reverse colonisation. Maybe till yesterday, you could have been stopped from entering a five-star hotel wearing them and attracted rolled-up eyes in a conference. Today, if you have your grandfather’s Kolhapuri chappals, you may be able to get a great price.
Meanwhile, Kalu-Kutliya on Hill Road, Mumbai, and Pandya on Fashion Street, Colaba, are eagerly looking at their stock of Kolhapuris, which they are busy marking up by ₹100–₹150. And somewhere, someone is busy thinking of how to sell the first copy of Prada Kolhapuris.
Hopefully — and legally — Prada has to source them from Kolhapuri artisans. And in that case, a few will be celebrating, as Prada Kolhapuris will be exclusively sourced from a select few. However, other brands may introduce their variants, and a smaller artisan may demand a better price.
The GI tag (granted in 2019) was meant to protect and empower them. But don’t bet your ₹1.2 lakh chappals on it just yet.
WE ARE LIKE THAT ONLY.
Let’s face it: we Indians have a strange inferiority complex wrapped in FabIndia kurtas and sealed with imported packaging. We don’t trust our traditions until someone with a French or Italian accent nods approvingly. Suddenly, our roots seem worthy of Instagram reels and TEDx talks.
We have Ayurveda — a vast, ancient system of medicine. But we needed wellness retreats in Bali and ash-smeared American influencers to tell us it’s “authentically transformative”. Seriously?
Why do we wait for someone else to brand our heritage, slap a logo on it, and sell it back to us at thrice the cost?
Some will argue — “But isn’t it good that the world is embracing our culture?” Yes — but not before us. It’s not about xenophobia. It’s about ownership. About pride. About not abandoning something just because it’s brown, earthy, and smells like home.
DHI
Maybe the Government, with so many initiatives, could include and nurture one like a Desi-Hip Index (DHI). Anything that scores high on the DHI — Kolhapuri chappals, millets, brass lotas, mustard oil massages — we must start valuing before Prada, Goop, or some fancy Scandinavian design house does.
We wear it, we use it, we flaunt it, brand it — and maybe even sell it to them. But proudly, and on our terms.
And please — let’s not wait for Kim Kardashian to wear a gamcha as a halter top before we raid our father’s almirah.
So the next time you see a Kolhapuri chappal, don’t wonder if it’s fashionable enough. Wonder instead if we’ve done enough to make sure the artisan who stitched it doesn’t have to Google what “fashion week” means – but gets a decent price.
Because fashion, my dear India, isn’t always about trends. Sometimes, it’s just about finally walking confidently in your own chappals.
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