R&D in the Textile Industry

I realized today that my Monsoon Collection comes out in less than a month and I haven’t spent any time writing about the design process or the themes for this collection. I wanted to experiment more with colour, with ikat, and with prints, so this collection is going to be a lot more dramatic than the previous ones (in a subtle, Brass Tacks kind of way of course!) Unfortunately, as is often the case, many of the fabrics that I’ve used didn’t turn out quite like how I expected. Not that they turned out looking bad, but the difference is very visible and it makes a huge difference to the overall impact of the outfit.

I’ve often wondered how that misunderstanding between me and my suppliers happen, especially since all my letters are illustrated with detailed explanations. At first I used to think it was because of my poor Hindi that the suppliers would often misinterpret or overlook certain details in my order. Now I’m starting to think that the best way to get the job done is to have a textile designer working closely with them- a Brass Tacks employee who works on my design team to come up with designs for each collection and then coordinates with the suppliers to execute the designs. Seems like an expensive investment, but definitely something I need to look into in the long run. Next month I am making a trip to Jaipur and Ahmedabad, and hopefully I will be able to meet some faculty and students at NID who work with textile craftsmen and see what they think about this.

Ideally though, the craftsmen should have their own textile designer on their team. Things would be a lot easier for buyers if the designer can help the craftsmen come up with a set of swatches to send to suppliers, and a documentation system so that the swatches can be replicated relatively easily. The designer could also make life easier for the supplier by working on new designs and new techniques of dyeing or weaving to cater to a variety of tastes. The investment of a full time textile designer is too expensive for the craftsmen who work at a grass roots level however, and only larger organizations like Rehwa and Dastkar Andhra can afford to invest in research and development with textile designers on board. The tough part about a small company like mine hiring a full time textile designer is that he or she would have to be an expert on a variety of textile crafts in order to work with weavers, block printers, and tie-dyers. That kind of varied expertise is hard to find.

In other related news, I recently met a woman with an MBA who wants to start a business supplying designers and production houses with handloom fabrics that have an “international market”. This would involve organizing weaver’s cooperatives to use their craft skills for designs that are not necessarily traditional. For example, it could mean that a weaver in Gujarat who makes shawls with a large motif woven all over it might have to change his design to smaller motifs that are woven far apart because that minimal look with a hint of extra weft design is easier to sell to an international buyer. The issue of modifying traditional designs to suit a “cosmopolitan, urban, international” market is something that I’ll take up in some other post, but for the moment let’s see the practical and financial benefits. This is the innovation that’s needed to revive and organize the textile sector. Catering to an existing demand is a much better business model than trying to push a product that doesn’t have a huge demand at price points that are profitable for the business. Plus for designers like me, think how easy it would make our lives if we could just contact someone, explain the design to them and pay that extra fee to pass your headache of following up with suppliers and ensuring they get your design right onto the agent.

Below is a picture showing the sample I had sent the weaver on the left, and his woven product on the right. The size of the checks and the dull finish in the sample swatch make all the difference to the final look of the fabric.

And here is a block printed fabric from Rajasthan. The checked design is theirs, but I had asked for a darker blue with ochre and instead I got something that's closer to turquoise with ochre. Also, notice the quality of the checks and how some of them are not well defined.

This one however came closer to what I had asked for in terms of colour matching my pantone shades.

An Ode to Thick Sarees

When I was small, I remember cuddling up to my mother’s cotton sarees for comfort (they smelled of her) whenever she traveled out of town on work. Perhaps that’s when I acquired my taste for the weight, fall, and texture of cotton. My mother’s cotton sarees were thick, and I could spend hours staring at the coarse khadi yarn, the supplementary weft patterns, and the designs on the pallu. The Kanjeevaram sarees were simple- wide borders and the familiar stripes in shades of parrot green, kungumam red and turmeric yellow. Then there were Bengal cottons with Jamdani work, beautiful red/terracotta sarees from Koraput, and, some of my favourites, the Orissa Ikat sarees with animals, snails, and flowers in Ikat all over the sari.

My taste is very simple and traditional when I shop for sarees. I go blind when I walk into a store with more georgette and crepe than any other fabric, and seeing thin, transparent sarees studded with jewels brings back bad memories of how students at my school used to decorate the covers of their history projects! I long for the thick cotton sarees that make me feel excited just being in them, the sophistication of an old craft in vibrant colours, and the subtle beauty of the traditional designs. However, the market is flooded with the thin, sheer kind, in fabrics that cling to your body, weighed down by heavy embroidery and stones. It is ironic, now come to think of it, that students decorated their history project covers that way. Were we giving a shout out to the visually stimulating Moghul era? Were we, at some subconscious level, more proud of that kind of aesthetic sense and stimulus than any other, or have we been conditioned from a young age to think of “rich Indian culture” in terms of what royalty did?

The other day a group of young adults (just out of college) came to my store. They were there to pick a top for one of the girls. I was trying to assess her taste as I went through each rack picking out suggestions. When I suggested Fort Greene, a very feminine (okay, maybe girly) pleated top from handwoven cotton and silk, her guy friend said “Oh no, that looks too much like Khadi”. I wasn’t surprised. I know that for many people khadi = old = frumpy = unglamourous. The top was actually made from Chinese silk and mercerized cotton, but there were lines of random tie-dye ikat throughout the fabric that gave it the “khadi look”. I fought hard to not feel defensive (“it is clearly not khadi- can’t you see the polished yarn?”), but I felt sad because his taste is reflective of how many must feel about thick sarees.

I have wanted to write about my love for thick sarees for a while, and when I learned about the Dastkar Andhra exhibition in town, I thought this would be a good time. If you live in Chennai, please go! They have a great range of khadi as well as mill yarn cotton sarees, including some that are dyed from natural ingredients. On display are photographs documenting the entire process of khadi, right from the cotton plucking to the woven sari, and the photographs are printing on handwoven cotton.

Exhibition and Sale of by Dastkar Andhra Marketing Association at
Lalit Kala Academy (#4, Greams Road, Chennai 600006)
From 6th to 10th August, 10:30am to 8pm.

Also, in an attempt to keep up with the times and get in better touch with my customers I've started a group on Facebook. So if you're interested in hearing about Brass Tacks events and getting in touch with me, click here to join the group.