This article is authored by Adyasha Singh, second year B.A. L.L.B (Hon’s) student at Faculty of Law, University of Delhi.

Abstract:

This article is a critical analysis of the widespread and offensive issue of cultural appropriation of Indian fashion, textiles, jewellery, and overall Indian practices by the western fashion industry. It sheds light on the paradox and harmful nature of the situation, where people of Indian background are condemned or othered at the receiving end, accepting their own, traditional clothing. However, their Western counterparts get complimented and referred to as boho or exotic. This article combines fashion, psychology, and law to conclude that the existing legal frameworks are rather limited to consider the subtleties of cultural appropriation. It to work in the grey zone that cannot be easily characterized as blatant theft.

Appreciation vs Appropriation

Cross-cultural exchange on the global fashion scene has not been a new arena. However, when the borrowing is not mutual, uncredited and the dominant culture is a beneficiary at the expense of the source community, that is where appreciation turns into appropriation. The interaction of Western fashion industry with Indian fashion is a good illustration of this multifaceted and usually exploitative relationship. The workings of the intricate Banarasi silk through the simple comfort of the Kolhapuri chappal, the Bagru and Ajrakh prints, the Madras checks, and more, are often rediscovered, decontextualised, and introduced as new trends by the designers of the West. Our modest Dupatta has transformed into a Scandinavian Scarf, the Yakshi Drape into Vixen Maxi Dresses. Oiled hair, which for ages has been criticised and associated with Indians as a racial prejudice, is now trendy as Slick Backs, and Kamarbandh becomes Cummerbund. The prototypical paisley design, an abstracted teardrop design of Persian and Indian heritage called “ambi” or “mankolam” has long been a utilitarian in the Western fashion industry. Although its common application has severed it quite a bit of its cultural context, its first arrival to the West was an account of colonial exchange and value theft. Later, the use of paisley in brands such as Christian Dior has been criticised due to its extensive inclusion without giving credit to the origin of the paisley pattern. The Indian aesthetics are strongly influenced on the bohemian or rather the boho-chic trend. Block-printed fabrics and mirrored embroidery to the shape of kurtas and shalwars are only a few of the enormous list of design elements that have pervaded the trend in India. Nevertheless, they are usually sold out of context without referring to their makers and their culture. The fast fashion giants have been known to copy designs of different cultures and the same includes the designs of India. Complex Rajasthani embroideries, Bandhani tie dyed techniques and Bengali Kantha stitching are also often copied in mass-produced clothes. With no advantage going to the community who have developed these art forms over the centuries. While our indigenous communities, our weavers, find it hard to make ends meet, Western fashion houses keep making fortunes at our expense. Our tradition has become their aesthetic, their maximalism.

The usage of the Indian fashion is not a simple act of creative borrowing, but it is rather a show of power imbalances of the past, which causes severe psychological damage. In his seminal work, The Intimate Enemy, Ashis Nandy claims that colonialism is not merely a state of political organization, but a state of mind. According to him, colonial worldview can be based on a hierarchical system with the West representing “adulthood/modernity” and the East, “childhood/tradition”. This is the psychological domination that is being exercised when Western fashion houses appropriate Indian designs and rebrand them. They are implicitly saying that the Indian object becomes valuable after it has been discovered, refined, used and renamed by the west.

Traditional clothes, fabric as well as jewellery to a good number of Indians are powerful icons of their culture. The appropriation of such symbols by the mainstream Western culture, deprived of their original meaning and being commercialised may result in a feeling of devaluation of a particular culture. Even the signs that create the feeling of pride and belongingness to the in-group are mocked into momentary fashion statements to the out-group. One of the most sinister features of this process is the two-sidedness between the perception of Indian and Western people regarding the same things being worn. A traditional Indian woman in a sari could be labelled as being traditional or unassimilated in the Western society. Whereas a non-Indian celebrity in a sari-style gown would be applauded as being eclectic or trendy. The Patiala necklace which once belonged to Maharaja Ranjit Singh, was worn by an American YouTuber Emma Chamberlain, but was not shared with singer Diljit Dosanjh, during the Met Gala, who hails from the very state which the Maharaja once ruled. Actress Margot Robbie was seen wearing a heart shaped necklace which originally belonged to Mughal emperor Shah Jahan and bore the name of Princess Nur Jahan. More recently Prada stirred controversy, when they introduced a chai infused perfume in early January. This brings about the systemic problem of appropriating, rebranding, and commercialising culturally important elements of India without due crediting and fair compensation. This in turn results in the loss of information about their rich heritage and cultural background. It also arouses a stereotype threat in which the people of Indian origin might feel anxious or pressurized, because they need to meet the Western dressing standards to avoid a negative evaluation and thus block an important part of their cultural expression. This can affect fashion preferences, which subsequently results in a slow erosion of cultural practices and the lack of self-worth related to one heritage.

The Legal Void: Why Indian Laws Fail Tradition

When the debate moves to the legal recourse, the complications increase twofold. The western way of intellectual property rights is based on a system of personal property and the originality of a work, which contradicts the individuality of the traditional knowledge, which is collective and ancestral. In India copyright law offers protection to original works of authorship. However, it lacks the means to defend traditional designs, which have been handed down through generations, and are deemed belonging to the community. As a result, they are commonly viewed as being in the Public Domain according to Western ideals and are free to take.

Besides copyright the Designs Act, 2000 forms an important statutory framework of understanding fashion-based intellectual property. Especially salient is section 2(d), section 4 and section 22. S. 2(d) defines a design to include shape, configuration, pattern, ornamentation or a combination of lines or colours utilised in any article. It is a legal definition which encompasses a wide range of fashion fit, fabric design, embroidery pattern, jewellery design and accessory style. S. 4 bars the registration of designs which aren’t new or original. While S. 22 provides remedies against piracy of registered documents.

However, the originality standard provided by the Designs Act is bound to lock out most of the conventional patterns. Attributes that have already been used (even those with a cultural background and tied to a particular region) do not qualify as having been statutorily defined as new or original. Wedding patterns and ornamentations are systematically not registered. This further widens the protection multiplicity since Indian textile patterns have been under existence decades since. The practise that is old and what is being practised traditionally turns un-preservable by the law as it fails to meet the novelty clause of the act.

While the IP laws tend to bar the registration of trademarks that are susceptible to religious sensibilities (Section 9(2)(b) of the Trademarks Act, 1999), it is hard to enforce it internationally. As an illustration, Hindu god prints on shoes or bikinis in the western markets are not punished until the outcry. Equally, the trademark law does not safeguard the culture that may be embedded in brand names and logos. A Western brand can and frequently does use a conventional Indian pattern. Provided they do not violate a particular registered trademark, they legally are not guilty.

GI tags can provide a potential, although small scale, solution. India has been able to get GI tags on many of its products such as Pochampally Ikat, Kanchipuram silk sarees and Kolhapuri chappals. GI tag certifies that a product has its origin in a particular geographical area and has a quality or a reputation which is attributed to it. This will help in the case of a shoe being made in Italy, it will not be legally sold as a Kholhapuri chappal. GI tags have serious drawbacks, however. They guard the name and its connection with the region, however, it does not safeguard the design, as such, against copying. GI protection is restricted since it is territorial in nature.

Indian GI registration does not necessarily protect on a foreign territory. Articles 22-24 in the multilateral TRIPS system set the minimum requirements on GI protection, but do not require the automatic global protection and enforcement. Enhanced protection even under TRIPS depends highly on the category of goods, where wines and spirits are entitled to greater protection. Textile and handicraft are the subject of a more limited regulation and depends much on the domestic execution of a member state. A fashion house can create a sandal that is identical to a Kolhapuri chappal, as was in the case of the Prada Spring/ Summer 2026 Men’s collection, and sell it, if they don’t use the protected name. Therefore, it poses a feasible challenge to avoid the copying of the same design knockoffs in other countries without a registered design/trademark in the target location. Cross-border litigation is prohibitively costly, and procedurally complicated. Artisan communities are generally ill-equipped in terms of financial or institutional resources to undertake international enforcement. This creates imbalance in access of justice. Although cultural appropriation is stealing to the communities whose culture is being used, the practice is very hard to put on trial according to the current statutes of theft or misappropriation. The oral traditions or fluid methods of weaving do not always comply with the strict requirements of the Western IP. These grey areas of the law permit the exploitation of cultural heritage to continue.

Conclusion

Addressing the issue of cultural appropriation requires a multi-pronged approach that extends beyond the courtroom. An increased trend in the world is the call to create sui generis (of its own kind) legal frameworks to guard traditional knowledge and traditional cultural expressions (TCEs). At the global level, the WIPO IGC Articles on TCEs provide a template vocabulary of protecting community-owned cultural expressions that include the notion of attribution, consent/authorization, and benefit-sharing aspects which are often absent in the traditional frameworks of IP.

Comparative national examples are also instructive. In Peru, the Law No.27811 implements a system that granted the collective rights and organised access benefit structures of the Indigenous people that relates to biological resources. Under the Wai262 framework in New Zealand, the rights of the Māori people on traditional knowledge and works of ‘Taonga’ are recognised showing that ownership and guardianship are culture-based concepts. India also has one more instrumental resource, which is the Traditional Knowledge Digital Library (TKDL). The TKDL is a relatively defensive mechanism and mostly used to fight against improper patent claims. However, its conceptual basis, namely systematisation of documentation to avoid misuse, carries an extra implication in safeguarding other traditional cultural expressions, such as of fashion and textile heritage.

All these models show that perceived legal vacuum is not a natural occurrence. Instead, it is a design decision regarding the role of law in defining ownership and originality, and enforced rights of culture-carrying communities.

Laws would have to be specific to the special character of cultural heritage, to acknowledge collective ownership, and have mechanisms of benefit-sharing. The fashion industry should shift to an appropriation model, to an authentic and ethical cooperation. It entails direct collaboration with the artisan groups, fair remuneration, proper credit and real sharing of knowledge and skills. Consumers are instrumental in creating change. They can put pressure on more responsible behaviour in the market by educating themselves on the origin of the clothes they purchase and by rewarding brands that are open and ethical in their sourcing and design associated practices. Designers, artisans and influencers of the Indian fashion industry are becoming loud in their criticism of appropriation but are also reclaiming their heritage in their own voices. This is a significant weapon against erasing the culture, reclaiming the narrative.