inspired by
INDIA how india transformed global design
visual research and text
Phyllida jay
concept and photo editor
Priya Kapoor design
sneha pamneja
inspired by
INDIA how india transformed global design
visual research and text
Phyllida jay
concept and photo editor
Priya Kapoor design
sneha pamneja
t h e p ro sp e c t o f i n di a 11
Mughal emperor Shah Alam conveying the Diwani of Bengal to Lord Clive. After the Battle of Plassey in 1757, the East India Company took control of Bengal. The Diwani transferred lucrative tax collecting rights.
The British named it the Treaty of Allahabad, despite the fact that Clive dictated the terms and Shah Alam was forced to accept them. Artist: Benjamin West, 1765.
from luxury houses such as Hermès and Chanel, high fashion labels including Isabel Marant, Mary Katrantzou, Alexander McQueen, Temperley and Erdem, to high street brands such as Monsoon and Zara, Indian aesthetics, embroidery and embellishment are woven into the very fabric of international fashion, continuing to determine what consumers perceive as beautiful, luxurious, exotic and desirable. Sometimes their Indian origin isn’t evident, hidden within complex supply chains and aesthetic interpretations. Sometimes when Indian culture is overtly drawn upon, the nature of the interpretation attracts debates around cultural appropriation which flare up on social media. For example, in the 2016 music video for the song ‘Hymn for the Weekend’, Beyonce, styled like a Bollywood heroine in an Abu Jani Sandeep Khosla anarkali gown and matha patti (jewelled headgear), moved her elaborately
hennaed hands sinuously in imitation of Bharatanatyam, a classical Indian dance form. Meanwhile Coldplay frontman Chris Martin wandered through Mumbai’s largest slum Dharavi, crooning effortlessly about light and love, whilst children pelted one another with Holi colours. Opinion was divided on whether this was a celebration, or offensive pastiche, of Indian culture. This is just one of many instances that highlights the broad movement of digitally-driven activism in the past few years, which has grown increasingly vocal and committed to ‘calling-out’ what is seen as ‘cultural appropriation’. It’s a highly charged subject by which designers must tread with greater care along a knifeedge between inspiration and accusations of theft. On one side, there are those who argue that creative freedom and the license to freely draw from other cultures is vital to cultural
‘Orientalism is not a picture of the east or the easts. It represents longing, option, and faraway perfection. it is, like utopia, a picture everywhere and nowhere, save in the imagination.’ 1
C
hintz Such an evocative word, conjuring images of flora and fauna, eternally suspended in a garden paradise. Its key motifs are tropical bird life, trailing vines, red or pink flowers in luscious full-bloom and buds heavy with fecund promise. Chintz traverses time and the surfaces of everything from mid-Georgian English canopied beds, women’s gowns of the Regency era and Victorian William Morris wallpaper. Nothing could be more ‘English’ in its associations: yet the name chintz is derived from the North Indian word ‘chint’, meaning ‘spotted’ cloth. Chintz is in fact an Indian invention, adapted for European tastes. In the seventeenth century, the vibrant hues of chintz were so admired that Indian imports all but destroyed the European textile industry. In response, the British and French governments imposed a ban on it. However, such was its desirability that consumers continued to acquire chintz by smuggling it into Europe. This vibrant textile is but one of the myriad Indian decorative arts and crafts that came to define European luxury from the seventeenth century onwards. It was not just chintz that wove its way into the very hearts of European homes and fashions, but precious jewels, fine muslin cottons, fragrant tea, aromatic coffee, pungent spices and of course, Kashmir shawls. These goods, much coveted and prized in Europe were all inspired by India: by its rich cultural traditions, diverse geography and by the skill of Indian artisans. A watershed event was the Great Exhibition of 1851 at the Crystal Palace in London. At a time when rapid industrialization was upturning English society and ideas of labour and specialized craft were being replaced with ‘the dark satanic mills’ of machinery and
mass manufacture: the Indian crafts displayed at the Great Exhibition were held-up as paragons of what constituted good design based on traditional artisanal skill. The ‘soulless’ products of mass-manufacture, were contrasted to the handcrafted Indian objects, imbued as they were with values of community-based labour relations, personalization and the individual skill of the craftsman. Indian textiles especially were displayed as examples of what good design should entail. The focus of the India section at the exhibition can also be understood as a two-way process of cultural exchange that can be traced back to the early trade in printed calicos. Today this legacy reverberates across global fashion in myriad forms, part of such densely intricate histories of colonialism, cultural influence and assimilation that we are often unaware of their Indian origins. In a single object or style, it is often almost impossible to say where one cultural imprint ends and another begins. This complex web of cultural flows is only intensified in an era of Pinterest and Instagram. Here, images float in the vast, amorphous arenas of cyberspace, completely unanchored from their roots and original meanings. Not least, the Western fantasy of ‘the Orient’ frequently collapses the vast differences between India, China, Japan, North Africa or the Middle East into one amorphous idea and image of the ‘exotic’. Yet the prevalence of Indian words in fashion’s lexicon attests to India’s distinctive role in fashion history, so that we have calico, chintz, bandanna, muslin, seersucker, shawl, dungarees, madras check, pyjama and khaki. So does the aesthetic influence and supply chains that incorporate Indian crafts across the spectrum of international fashion. Hence
t h e p ro sp e c t o f i n di a 11
Mughal emperor Shah Alam conveying the Diwani of Bengal to Lord Clive. After the Battle of Plassey in 1757, the East India Company took control of Bengal. The Diwani transferred lucrative tax collecting rights.
The British named it the Treaty of Allahabad, despite the fact that Clive dictated the terms and Shah Alam was forced to accept them. Artist: Benjamin West, 1765.
from luxury houses such as Hermès and Chanel, high fashion labels including Isabel Marant, Mary Katrantzou, Alexander McQueen, Temperley and Erdem, to high street brands such as Monsoon and Zara, Indian aesthetics, embroidery and embellishment are woven into the very fabric of international fashion, continuing to determine what consumers perceive as beautiful, luxurious, exotic and desirable. Sometimes their Indian origin isn’t evident, hidden within complex supply chains and aesthetic interpretations. Sometimes when Indian culture is overtly drawn upon, the nature of the interpretation attracts debates around cultural appropriation which flare up on social media. For example, in the 2016 music video for the song ‘Hymn for the Weekend’, Beyonce, styled like a Bollywood heroine in an Abu Jani Sandeep Khosla anarkali gown and matha patti (jewelled headgear), moved her elaborately
hennaed hands sinuously in imitation of Bharatanatyam, a classical Indian dance form. Meanwhile Coldplay frontman Chris Martin wandered through Mumbai’s largest slum Dharavi, crooning effortlessly about light and love, whilst children pelted one another with Holi colours. Opinion was divided on whether this was a celebration, or offensive pastiche, of Indian culture. This is just one of many instances that highlights the broad movement of digitally-driven activism in the past few years, which has grown increasingly vocal and committed to ‘calling-out’ what is seen as ‘cultural appropriation’. It’s a highly charged subject by which designers must tread with greater care along a knifeedge between inspiration and accusations of theft. On one side, there are those who argue that creative freedom and the license to freely draw from other cultures is vital to cultural
‘Orientalism is not a picture of the east or the easts. It represents longing, option, and faraway perfection. it is, like utopia, a picture everywhere and nowhere, save in the imagination.’ 1
C
hintz Such an evocative word, conjuring images of flora and fauna, eternally suspended in a garden paradise. Its key motifs are tropical bird life, trailing vines, red or pink flowers in luscious full-bloom and buds heavy with fecund promise. Chintz traverses time and the surfaces of everything from mid-Georgian English canopied beds, women’s gowns of the Regency era and Victorian William Morris wallpaper. Nothing could be more ‘English’ in its associations: yet the name chintz is derived from the North Indian word ‘chint’, meaning ‘spotted’ cloth. Chintz is in fact an Indian invention, adapted for European tastes. In the seventeenth century, the vibrant hues of chintz were so admired that Indian imports all but destroyed the European textile industry. In response, the British and French governments imposed a ban on it. However, such was its desirability that consumers continued to acquire chintz by smuggling it into Europe. This vibrant textile is but one of the myriad Indian decorative arts and crafts that came to define European luxury from the seventeenth century onwards. It was not just chintz that wove its way into the very hearts of European homes and fashions, but precious jewels, fine muslin cottons, fragrant tea, aromatic coffee, pungent spices and of course, Kashmir shawls. These goods, much coveted and prized in Europe were all inspired by India: by its rich cultural traditions, diverse geography and by the skill of Indian artisans. A watershed event was the Great Exhibition of 1851 at the Crystal Palace in London. At a time when rapid industrialization was upturning English society and ideas of labour and specialized craft were being replaced with ‘the dark satanic mills’ of machinery and
mass manufacture: the Indian crafts displayed at the Great Exhibition were held-up as paragons of what constituted good design based on traditional artisanal skill. The ‘soulless’ products of mass-manufacture, were contrasted to the handcrafted Indian objects, imbued as they were with values of community-based labour relations, personalization and the individual skill of the craftsman. Indian textiles especially were displayed as examples of what good design should entail. The focus of the India section at the exhibition can also be understood as a two-way process of cultural exchange that can be traced back to the early trade in printed calicos. Today this legacy reverberates across global fashion in myriad forms, part of such densely intricate histories of colonialism, cultural influence and assimilation that we are often unaware of their Indian origins. In a single object or style, it is often almost impossible to say where one cultural imprint ends and another begins. This complex web of cultural flows is only intensified in an era of Pinterest and Instagram. Here, images float in the vast, amorphous arenas of cyberspace, completely unanchored from their roots and original meanings. Not least, the Western fantasy of ‘the Orient’ frequently collapses the vast differences between India, China, Japan, North Africa or the Middle East into one amorphous idea and image of the ‘exotic’. Yet the prevalence of Indian words in fashion’s lexicon attests to India’s distinctive role in fashion history, so that we have calico, chintz, bandanna, muslin, seersucker, shawl, dungarees, madras check, pyjama and khaki. So does the aesthetic influence and supply chains that incorporate Indian crafts across the spectrum of international fashion. Hence
22 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
t h e p ro sp e c t o f i n di a 23
These chintz bed hangings were impounded on arrival in Britain. The concerns of British weavers about the undercutting of local manufacturers led to the 1721 Calico Act banning import of most Indian cotton textiles into England.
The Kasode or underobe from the early 18th century was made from an Indian palampore with flowering tree design for export to Japan, and evidences the alacrity with which Indian artisans adapted their designs for different markets. Cotton, painted mordant-dyed and resist-dyed.
Copper-plate printed cotton. This banyan is a rare example of a printed Toile de Nantes, intended to be furnishing fabric, but here made up as a garment, cut to conform to the height of male fashion. Artist/Maker: Jamet (engraver), c. 1820.
Poignant evidence of the sheer ubiquity of Indian chintz (or the British-made printed copies it inspired) comes from the records of London’s Foundling Hospital that accepted the infants of women too destitute to care for their nonetheless much loved and wanted children. The women were encouraged to leave some proof of identity should they ever be in a position to reclaim their offspring. These could be any kind of token and amongst the many thousands of scraps that survive appear many examples of chintz. It’s unclear whether these were scraps from clothes handed down by employers, or purchased by the mothers themselves, but they attest to Indian painted cotton’s popularity by the second half of eighteenth century in England.27
Toile de Jouy The classic Toile de Jouy fabric in France was originally inspired by Indian chintzes (called ‘Indiennes’ in France in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries). These were printed
poorer women and children, who wore cut-down furnishing fabrics. Linen and wool had predominated for both clothing and furnishings, with silk used only by the upper echelons of society. For clothing, cotton quickly gained acceptance due to its lightness relative to wool and linen, as well as its wearability and colour-fastness.24 One of the most significant aspects of chintz’s rise to popularity was its democratic distribution. It is remarkable that in the case of Indian chintz, even poorer consumers could afford some item of chintz dress. This result was the flattening of hierarchical forms of distinction in dress, where the expensiveness of textiles such as silk meant the rich could easily be distinguished from their servants.
Chintz was once and for all established as an aspirational fashion in 1688 when the accession of William and Mary to the English throne conferred Dutch products with added status. Given the Dutch had already embraced the use of chintz by the upper classes, the taste for wearing chintz soon spread to the English aristocracy. By 1694 the EIC heads in London were writing to their contacts in India that the greatest ladies were clamouring to wear chintz, and ‘…as for [Chintz] petticoats… you can never make or send too many of them’.25 By the second half of the seventeenth century the import of painted and printed cottons into Europe increased exponentially. As well as for soft furnishings, chintz began to
be used as lining in clothing and even for clothes themselves. In 1708 this made Daniel Defoe (author of Robinson Crusoe) to write rather despairingly of English society: Such is the power of a mode… we saw our Persons of Quality dress’d in Indian carpets which but for a few years before their Chamber-Maids would have thought them too ordinary for them; the Chintz were advanc’d from lying on their floors to their backs, from the Foot-cloth to the petticoat… Nor was this all, but it crept into our houses, our closets, and bedchambers, curtains, cushions, chairs, and at last our beds themselves were nothing but calicos.26
22 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
t h e p ro sp e c t o f i n di a 23
These chintz bed hangings were impounded on arrival in Britain. The concerns of British weavers about the undercutting of local manufacturers led to the 1721 Calico Act banning import of most Indian cotton textiles into England.
The Kasode or underobe from the early 18th century was made from an Indian palampore with flowering tree design for export to Japan, and evidences the alacrity with which Indian artisans adapted their designs for different markets. Cotton, painted mordant-dyed and resist-dyed.
Copper-plate printed cotton. This banyan is a rare example of a printed Toile de Nantes, intended to be furnishing fabric, but here made up as a garment, cut to conform to the height of male fashion. Artist/Maker: Jamet (engraver), c. 1820.
Poignant evidence of the sheer ubiquity of Indian chintz (or the British-made printed copies it inspired) comes from the records of London’s Foundling Hospital that accepted the infants of women too destitute to care for their nonetheless much loved and wanted children. The women were encouraged to leave some proof of identity should they ever be in a position to reclaim their offspring. These could be any kind of token and amongst the many thousands of scraps that survive appear many examples of chintz. It’s unclear whether these were scraps from clothes handed down by employers, or purchased by the mothers themselves, but they attest to Indian painted cotton’s popularity by the second half of eighteenth century in England.27
Toile de Jouy The classic Toile de Jouy fabric in France was originally inspired by Indian chintzes (called ‘Indiennes’ in France in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries). These were printed
poorer women and children, who wore cut-down furnishing fabrics. Linen and wool had predominated for both clothing and furnishings, with silk used only by the upper echelons of society. For clothing, cotton quickly gained acceptance due to its lightness relative to wool and linen, as well as its wearability and colour-fastness.24 One of the most significant aspects of chintz’s rise to popularity was its democratic distribution. It is remarkable that in the case of Indian chintz, even poorer consumers could afford some item of chintz dress. This result was the flattening of hierarchical forms of distinction in dress, where the expensiveness of textiles such as silk meant the rich could easily be distinguished from their servants.
Chintz was once and for all established as an aspirational fashion in 1688 when the accession of William and Mary to the English throne conferred Dutch products with added status. Given the Dutch had already embraced the use of chintz by the upper classes, the taste for wearing chintz soon spread to the English aristocracy. By 1694 the EIC heads in London were writing to their contacts in India that the greatest ladies were clamouring to wear chintz, and ‘…as for [Chintz] petticoats… you can never make or send too many of them’.25 By the second half of the seventeenth century the import of painted and printed cottons into Europe increased exponentially. As well as for soft furnishings, chintz began to
be used as lining in clothing and even for clothes themselves. In 1708 this made Daniel Defoe (author of Robinson Crusoe) to write rather despairingly of English society: Such is the power of a mode… we saw our Persons of Quality dress’d in Indian carpets which but for a few years before their Chamber-Maids would have thought them too ordinary for them; the Chintz were advanc’d from lying on their floors to their backs, from the Foot-cloth to the petticoat… Nor was this all, but it crept into our houses, our closets, and bedchambers, curtains, cushions, chairs, and at last our beds themselves were nothing but calicos.26
28 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
t h e p ro sp e c t o f i n di a 29
The Jummah Musjed, Delhi. The Daniells’ Oriental Scenery published in 1797, reflects the transforming role of the East India Company. Using cartographic techniques, they captured views of territories
already taken, or about to be taken. The Jama Masjid was built in 1638 as the principal mosque of Delhi, the new capital of the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan.
Sezincote House in England was the idea of Colonel John Cockerell who returned to England having amassed a fortune in the EIC. Built in 1805, it’s a notable example of Neo-Mughal architecture.
standards extremely offensive) references to ‘coolies’ and ‘black servants’ indicating the racist imperial attitudes that had by then come to hold sway. Across the book, ‘the whole atmosphere is one of “good, solid English Broadcloth”… and of intensive… industrial activities in Great Britain’.33
Yet in one of the most ironic twists of fate, a growing sense of dismay amongst leading intellectuals of the day saw India held up as a beacon of artisanal craftsmanship that England was perceived to be losing in the wake of the industrial revolution. Leading thinkers, including John Ruskin and Anglo-Sinhalese administrator and influential art critic Ananda Coomaraswamy, saw in India an Elysian ideal of village-based communities where crafts were passed from generation to generation. In this view, craft was the ‘glue’ that held together pre-industrial society and waylaid ‘evils’ of industrialization such as urban alienation and erosion of communal ties. This growing sentiment was evident in the exhibits curated at the India Pavilion at the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry held at Crystal Palace, London, in 1851. There is poetic circularity in how John Ruskin’s polemic Unto This Last, which
Gandhi called ‘that magic spell of a book’ and translated into Gujarati as Sarvodaya (the welfare of all), was based on Ruskin’s idealization of India as a timeless pre-industrial society. Ruskin had never actually visited India, but was inspired by accounts of its pre-industrial, craft-based village life. Ananda Coomaraswamy was a disciple of Victorian socialist and aesthete William Morris, who was in turn, greatly influenced by Ruskin. Morris was to have major influence on the anti-industrial views of British socialists. His view that aesthetics are inseparable from the functional and moral significance of an object is implicit in Coomaraswamy’s vision of Swadeshi. Coomaraswamy explicitly contrasted what he saw as the individualistic thrust of art in the West to the socially meaningful character of art and craft in India. For him, Indian craft was timeless, materializing not
The colony as maker and market India was now an importer of manufactured goods benefiting
the British Empire. ‘From an exporter of manufactures, India became an importer of finished goods and an exporter of raw materials and food grains… In 1814 India still exported to Britain 4 lakh [400 thousand] metres more cloth than she imported. In 1835, the imports from Britain were about 170 times the exports from India.’34
an individual’s vision but a community’s, indeed an entire nation’s. Within England, a morally impassioned critique of anti-industrialism was the focus of Ruskin, who saw in the industrial revolution the most dehumanizing effects of acquisitive commercialism, which increasingly polluted both private and public life. However, Ruskin was also a Tory imperialist who supported the paternalism of the Raj whilst nostalgically idolizing art and beauty, associating them with both medieval barbarism and with India. As in Rudyard Kipling’s Kim, Ruskin’s attitudes towards India veered between love for its energy, colour and beauty, or unfortunate associations with irrationality and barbarism. The India Uprising in 1857 was a pivotal moment in the fortunes of India and Britain. It led to widespread unrest and the effective cessation of the EIC. The British crown
28 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
t h e p ro sp e c t o f i n di a 29
The Jummah Musjed, Delhi. The Daniells’ Oriental Scenery published in 1797, reflects the transforming role of the East India Company. Using cartographic techniques, they captured views of territories
already taken, or about to be taken. The Jama Masjid was built in 1638 as the principal mosque of Delhi, the new capital of the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan.
Sezincote House in England was the idea of Colonel John Cockerell who returned to England having amassed a fortune in the EIC. Built in 1805, it’s a notable example of Neo-Mughal architecture.
standards extremely offensive) references to ‘coolies’ and ‘black servants’ indicating the racist imperial attitudes that had by then come to hold sway. Across the book, ‘the whole atmosphere is one of “good, solid English Broadcloth”… and of intensive… industrial activities in Great Britain’.33
Yet in one of the most ironic twists of fate, a growing sense of dismay amongst leading intellectuals of the day saw India held up as a beacon of artisanal craftsmanship that England was perceived to be losing in the wake of the industrial revolution. Leading thinkers, including John Ruskin and Anglo-Sinhalese administrator and influential art critic Ananda Coomaraswamy, saw in India an Elysian ideal of village-based communities where crafts were passed from generation to generation. In this view, craft was the ‘glue’ that held together pre-industrial society and waylaid ‘evils’ of industrialization such as urban alienation and erosion of communal ties. This growing sentiment was evident in the exhibits curated at the India Pavilion at the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry held at Crystal Palace, London, in 1851. There is poetic circularity in how John Ruskin’s polemic Unto This Last, which
Gandhi called ‘that magic spell of a book’ and translated into Gujarati as Sarvodaya (the welfare of all), was based on Ruskin’s idealization of India as a timeless pre-industrial society. Ruskin had never actually visited India, but was inspired by accounts of its pre-industrial, craft-based village life. Ananda Coomaraswamy was a disciple of Victorian socialist and aesthete William Morris, who was in turn, greatly influenced by Ruskin. Morris was to have major influence on the anti-industrial views of British socialists. His view that aesthetics are inseparable from the functional and moral significance of an object is implicit in Coomaraswamy’s vision of Swadeshi. Coomaraswamy explicitly contrasted what he saw as the individualistic thrust of art in the West to the socially meaningful character of art and craft in India. For him, Indian craft was timeless, materializing not
The colony as maker and market India was now an importer of manufactured goods benefiting
the British Empire. ‘From an exporter of manufactures, India became an importer of finished goods and an exporter of raw materials and food grains… In 1814 India still exported to Britain 4 lakh [400 thousand] metres more cloth than she imported. In 1835, the imports from Britain were about 170 times the exports from India.’34
an individual’s vision but a community’s, indeed an entire nation’s. Within England, a morally impassioned critique of anti-industrialism was the focus of Ruskin, who saw in the industrial revolution the most dehumanizing effects of acquisitive commercialism, which increasingly polluted both private and public life. However, Ruskin was also a Tory imperialist who supported the paternalism of the Raj whilst nostalgically idolizing art and beauty, associating them with both medieval barbarism and with India. As in Rudyard Kipling’s Kim, Ruskin’s attitudes towards India veered between love for its energy, colour and beauty, or unfortunate associations with irrationality and barbarism. The India Uprising in 1857 was a pivotal moment in the fortunes of India and Britain. It led to widespread unrest and the effective cessation of the EIC. The British crown
56 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
fa sh i o n 57
Facing page: Women’s chintz jacket, 1750. This fitted jacket was cut to display the sumptuous chintz imported from the Coromandel Coast to full effect. In the Netherlands in the 18th century, chintz jackets were popular for daily use and worn as part of traditional costume.
Chintz jackets, c. 1750–1800. Much easier to launder than silk or wool, chintz soon became popular for baby clothing. These jackets came from Hindeloopen, where they were called ‘sliepwentke’ or nightgowns. They were often made by re-using bedcovers or adult’s garments.
56 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
fa sh i o n 57
Facing page: Women’s chintz jacket, 1750. This fitted jacket was cut to display the sumptuous chintz imported from the Coromandel Coast to full effect. In the Netherlands in the 18th century, chintz jackets were popular for daily use and worn as part of traditional costume.
Chintz jackets, c. 1750–1800. Much easier to launder than silk or wool, chintz soon became popular for baby clothing. These jackets came from Hindeloopen, where they were called ‘sliepwentke’ or nightgowns. They were often made by re-using bedcovers or adult’s garments.
64 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
fa sh i o n 65
Facing page: Félicité-Louise de Durfort (1782–1870) poses informally in a simple empire-line white muslin dress, a luxurious Kashmir shawl draped over her right arm falling to the ground where the sun streams across it. The portrait embodies the image of classical simplicity inspired by ancient Roman sculpture that defined the fashion of this era. Painted in 1808 by Merry-Joseph Blondel.
By the end of the 18th century, rigidly tailored garments in rich fabrics for women were replaced by light-unstructured gowns inspired in part by ancient Greek and Roman statuary. This style was ideal for the Indian imports like Kashmiri shawls and Bengal muslin, as used in this embroidered gown. This style pushed Indian muslin to the forefront of fashion.
64 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
fa sh i o n 65
Facing page: Félicité-Louise de Durfort (1782–1870) poses informally in a simple empire-line white muslin dress, a luxurious Kashmir shawl draped over her right arm falling to the ground where the sun streams across it. The portrait embodies the image of classical simplicity inspired by ancient Roman sculpture that defined the fashion of this era. Painted in 1808 by Merry-Joseph Blondel.
By the end of the 18th century, rigidly tailored garments in rich fabrics for women were replaced by light-unstructured gowns inspired in part by ancient Greek and Roman statuary. This style was ideal for the Indian imports like Kashmiri shawls and Bengal muslin, as used in this embroidered gown. This style pushed Indian muslin to the forefront of fashion.
68 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
fa sh i o n 69
Jean Louis Scherrer, SS/1990. Scherrer combined 1980s power dressing with fantasies of opulence and colour wrapped up in Indian inspiration.
Yves Saint Laurent, AW/1991. Saint Laurent’s India was more dreamed than real. For the Rive Gauche label a gold lame hooded dress was suggestive of sari drapery. Gold encrusted embroidery completed the dream of India.
68 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
fa sh i o n 69
Jean Louis Scherrer, SS/1990. Scherrer combined 1980s power dressing with fantasies of opulence and colour wrapped up in Indian inspiration.
Yves Saint Laurent, AW/1991. Saint Laurent’s India was more dreamed than real. For the Rive Gauche label a gold lame hooded dress was suggestive of sari drapery. Gold encrusted embroidery completed the dream of India.
98 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
f ro m k a sh m i r t o pa i sl e y 99
FACING PAGE: Tea Gown made in around 1890 from an 1830s paisley design shawl. After the Kashmir shawl fell out of fashion in the 1870s (it looked far too ungainly when worn over the newly fashionable bustle dresses), many shawls were refashioned into clothing.
The French afternoon dress from around 1855 is made from a light cotton printed with an all-over paisley design. At this point the buta motif has become dissociated from its origins in Kashmir, and become a popular motif for all seasons and occasions.
98 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
f ro m k a sh m i r t o pa i sl e y 99
FACING PAGE: Tea Gown made in around 1890 from an 1830s paisley design shawl. After the Kashmir shawl fell out of fashion in the 1870s (it looked far too ungainly when worn over the newly fashionable bustle dresses), many shawls were refashioned into clothing.
The French afternoon dress from around 1855 is made from a light cotton printed with an all-over paisley design. At this point the buta motif has become dissociated from its origins in Kashmir, and become a popular motif for all seasons and occasions.
122 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
Worn by Abigail Greene Aldrich Rockefeller (1874–1948) the wife of the American financier and philanthropist John D. Rockefeller, Jr., this straight cut dress was made in part from an Indian sari of blue and gold.
t h e s a r i 123
facing page: The sari borders have been fashioned into shoulder straps that form a line down the torso to a drop waist, elements of the sari adapted to define the fashionable silhouette of the 1920s.
122 I n sp i r e d b y I n di a
Worn by Abigail Greene Aldrich Rockefeller (1874–1948) the wife of the American financier and philanthropist John D. Rockefeller, Jr., this straight cut dress was made in part from an Indian sari of blue and gold.
t h e s a r i 123
facing page: The sari borders have been fashioned into shoulder straps that form a line down the torso to a drop waist, elements of the sari adapted to define the fashionable silhouette of the 1920s.