The Great Cultural Makeover : Indian Edition

By Shreya Sreekumar.

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When Your Culture Goes Global Without You

You know that sturdy rice bag that your grandparents used to haul home 20 kilos of basmati? The one that probably got reused a hundred times for storing atta, lentils, or even as a makeshift school bag? Well, surprise — it’s now a “sustainable fashion accessory” selling for three grand online.

Because somewhere along the way, the world decided that the things we grew up with weren’t cool — until someone else wore them, repackaged them with a buzzword, and slapped a price tag big enough to make your dadi faint.

Something as practical and rooted as a rice bag suddenly gets a second life — not in the homes where it originated, but on Instagram, photographed on a pristine white background with a filter called "desert glow" and hashtags. The people who made these bags? Not tagged. Not credited. Definitely not paid.

And then we have Kolhapuri chappals — leather sandals crafted with incredible skill and care in Maharashtra for decades. For centuries, they’ve carried the weight of Indian feet, dust, monsoons, and festivals. Now they’ve “evolved” — meaning they’ve hit Milan runways courtesy of Prada, stripped of credit and inflated 200x in price. Apparently, if you rename it “heritage leather footwear” and slap it on a model named Chloe, it becomes revolutionary. We’re supposed to clap.

What’s wild is, the original design hasn’t changed much — maybe a slight curve here, a minimal strap there. But now they’re “revived,” “rediscovered,” and worst of all — “elevated.” Elevated by who? And from what? These chappals were never beneath anything. The only thing they’ve been elevated from is affordability.

Then there’s the dupatta — possibly one of the most underrated fashion icons of India. Worn every which way, from covering your head at the temple to rescuing you from a bad hair day. But now? It’s a “statement wrap,” styled with boots and called “boho” by people who don’t even know how to fold it properly.

What’s frustrating isn’t just the theft of style — it’s the way it’s done. Quietly. Casually. With no credit to where it all came from. No mention of the communities who created these things out of necessity, out of culture, out of tradition. Now, these same people can’t afford what they once made or used every day.

Millets, for example, were once called “poor man’s food.” Now they’re superfoods. Same with jute. Same with handloom. What used to be “basic” is suddenly “boutique.”And all of this is priced so high, the people who originally grew and cooked with them can't afford them anymore.

What used to be "everyday" has now been branded "exotic."

And in all this repackaging, one thing remains constant: the people who made, used, wore, or lived these things first are rarely part of the conversation. The weaver from Kutch, the cobbler in Kolhapur, the woman stringing tassels on the edge of a dupatta — none of them get a mention on the product page. Just vague words like “inspired by Indian heritage.”

And that’s the thing — it’s always inspired by, never in collaboration with.

To be clear, it’s not wrong for fashion or culture to travel. It’s actually a good thing. This isn’t about gatekeeping culture — it’s about respecting where things come from.It's about not erasing the people and stories behind them just because they don’t fit into a Pinterest board.

Style evolves, people borrow, ideas mix — that’s how culture grows. But the problem is when the borrowing turns into stealing, and the stealing gets rebranded as "curated."

Culture is being recycled, but only after it's been whitewashed, stripped of context, and sold back to us as premium. The same foods, fabrics, and footwear that were once signs of struggle or everyday life are now dripping with irony as luxury. It’s not appreciation if it erases the origin.

So maybe it’s time we stop treating our cultural items like relics waiting to be discovered by someone else. Maybe we take pride in the fact that our everyday objects were never basic. They were beautiful all along — long before they got a logo slapped on them.

Until then, keep your Kolhapuris close and your rice bag closer — because what was once overlooked might just be the next runway obsession. Again.