A few years ago, Sabyasachi Mukherjee was embroiled in a controversy when he expressed his disapproval and disappointment that today’s women don’t know how to tie a sari. While this may seem surprising in a country where millions of rural women wear saris on a daily basis, Sabyasachi’s comments made sense in the context of urban PLU women, for whom the sari is reserved for special occasions like weddings and cocktail parties.
Despite the much-vocalised love for the sari’s beauty among both women and men, takers for the whole nine yards have drastically dwindled in the casual wear market in urban India. Salwar kameez and western clothing has largely replaced the sari as 9-to-5 office wear. At formal events, the sari comes out, for a few hours in environments that require little more than standing around and looking elegant.
For the sari to remain relevant in everyday urban life, it would need to be modernised and adapted to contemporary lifestyles. Yet, for a long time, Indian designers were reluctant to innovate.
Till the late-1990s and early-2000s, designers openly criticised spontaneous reinterpretations – such as Mallika Sherawat’s appearance at Cannes in a lehenga blouse without a dupatta – branding them as vulgar and ‘un-Indian’. Interestingly, the kurta without pants found branding as the ‘kurti dress’ only when it became popular on the runways of videshi design houses like Jean Paul Gaultier and Hermes.
Today, the market offers a variety of sari styles – from pre-pleated versions to saris with pockets, and even pinstriped power saris. However, these innovations only gained traction in the late-ish 2000s, by which time many urban women had already transitioned away from the sari in their daily wardrobes.One factor contributing to the slow evolution of the sari could be that though there are notable examples of women designers like Ritu Kumar and Anita Dongre, the majority of top couturiers in women’s wear have been men.In Western fashion, Coco Chanel revolutionised women’s clothing by incorporating ‘men’s’ tweeds and sharply cut jackets into women’s wardrobes. As a woman and an equestrian, Chanel understood the need for both style and comfort – qualities that were often overlooked by her male counterparts.
Perhaps, the closest India came to having its own Chanel was Rina Dhaka, among India’s set of pioneering designers who is credited with introducing churidar pants in Lycra. This innovation cleverly blended traditional and modern elements, updating the churidar with lighter fabrics and a trendy look that resonates with contemporary fashion while staying rooted in cultural heritage, thereby adding a new language to it.
While Tahiliani himself has pioneered pre-pleated saris for ease of wear, and next gen designers have gone on to introduce practical elements like pockets, these are largely market-driven innovations. The core vision of many top designers remains rooted in traditional drape, as evidenced by their public statements.
There is, of course, not just cultural, but also aesthetic merit in preserving the sari’s traditional form. Designers argue that the beauty of the sari lies in its unstitched nature, and this is valid. However, this adherence to tradition is also why the sari probably remains a staple in the wedding and formalwear markets, and struggles to find a place in urban dailyware.
When it comes to national events like the Indian contingent at the Olympics, I side with Jwala Gutta. Pre-pleated saris would cater to both those who can expertly tie a sari and those who struggle with it, or simply don’t have the time to master the skill. In an age where functionality and tradition can coexist, the sari should reflect both.
