How Ladakh designers are taking their traditional textiles and crafts to the world

In a quiet corner of Delhi’s 9,000 sq. ft Textile Gallery hangs a backpack that tells stories of India’s northernmost region, Ladakh. Shaped like a tiger, it references one of the five mythical creatures in Buddhism, which is widely practised in the region. Crafted from a blend of lambswool, cashmere and pashmina, it points to Ladakh’s rich repertoire of fine fibres. Its three-dimensional form—brought alive through hand embroidery, appliqué and fringe-work—is indicative of the endless possibilities that can emerge when traditional crafts combine with contemporary, functional design to create a piece of wearable art.

“The bag comes with a tiger mask as a symbol of protection,” says Jigmat Norbu, founder of Leh-based Jigmat Couture, the brand behind the bag. He points to the two threads on the bag where the mask will be tied. Artisans took over a month-and-a-half to just spin the yarn for this bag. “It’s a way to say that we don’t have to compromise on our crafts and beliefs to ‘fit in’ (to the fashion world).”

The bag is part of an ongoing exhibition, Between Wind And Wool: Ladakh Design Today, at the gallery that informs viewers of how designers in Ladakh, who have studied in metros and returned home in the hope of shaping a Ladakhi identity, are re-interpreting local textiles and garments on the roof of the world.

Presented by the Fashion Design Council of India (FDCI) and curated by its head Sunil Sethi, the exhibition features 12 works, including traditional dresses, shoes and wall hangings, by labels 2112 Saldon, Jigmat Couture, Namza Couture and Zilzom. Black and grey photographs by Hormis Anthony Tharakan of Ladakh’s cold desert and black mountains occupy the walls.

“People beyond the world of fashion don’t know how far this region has come (in terms of design)... they sell across the world, have showcased on the runways,” says Sethi.

“The other thing is that the world only thinks of the feather-light pashmina when they think of Ladakh. There’s coarse pashmina as well, and there are many other premium fabrics this region produces and experiments with. That’s what we want to change through this show,” Sethi says.

As you enter the exhibition, a bok (shawl or cape), teng tsik (jacket) and mogos (robe-like dress made of wool or heavy handwoven textiles the colour and motifs of which can be an indicator of the wearer’s community)—all components of Ladakhi attire—greet you. Created by Namza Couture, the ensemble is crafted from handwoven gyaser (a silk-brocade fabric) and embellished with zari brocade and Himalayan and Central Asian motifs, including ambi and buta, which travelled the Silk Route before finding their way into Banaras weaving.

Despite being a traditional look, it’s not hard to imagine each component as part of contemporary wear. Teng tsik, typically worn in the eastern region of Ladakh, for instance, would not be out of place at a Delhi winter party or an office (if paired with a classic blue-striped shirt and jeans) or on a Paris runway. Similar iterations by other designers reiterate how traditional wear can work in today’s wardrobe.

“People associate Ladakh with pashmina and dull colours…white, beige, grey… you know the way our terrain is,” says Padma Yangchan of Namza. “While growing up, I mostly used to see white and maroon around me. There was no ‘fashion fashion’ as such. I remember going to weddings wearing coats and pants or jeans. But traditionally we had so many bright colours in our culture, and it’s important to realise it, not just for the world, but also for the people of Ladakh.”

While Namza’s Yangchan prefers to focus on wedding clothes (though the brand has some capes and jackets with traditional designs like embroidered swans and spiritual patch prints), Stanzin Palmo of Zilzom wants to make more contemporary wear.

Her approach is reflected in a grey pashmina dhoti-sari with a diamond weave, matched with a brocade waistcoat referencing the traditional stutung vest, on display at the exhibition. “I want to reach the masses without being mainstream,” says Palmo, who started Zilzom seven years ago. “I am doing pashmina but I also use other fabrics. Like I’m doing dresses, shirts that you can wear during summers, but they will always come with a Ladakh stamp,” she says, offering an example of thigma, the region’s ancient resist-dye technique (similar to bandhani of Gujarat and Rajasthan), which is at risk of going extinct.

Padma Saldon of 2112 Saldon, too, is focusing on creating fashion beyond pashmina. “We have fantastic sheepwool, but does the world know? No. (The movie) 3 Idiots made us famous (the film’s climax shows Pangong Lake) as a tourist destination but beyond that the interest isn’t as visible,” she says. “People know what phulkari or chikankari looks like but do they know what kos (the region’s popular traditional dress) is?”

The exhibition does leave you asking for more given the limited number of pieces on display. But it works as a teaser into the fascinating world of Ladakh. As a 32-year-old visitor, an architect, told me at the exhibition: “I never knew Ladakh had so much colour. It’s my ignorance; I always assumed it was this cold, dreary place.”

More importantly, the exhibition is a conversation starter on how since 2019—the year Ladakh became a Union territory—the region’s design entrepreneurs are trying to push the envelope without falling into the trap of what could best be described as “Bollywoodisation” of couture fashion. In other words, no lehngas, no ghagra-cholis—at least for now.

If they stay the course, Ladakh’s emerging design landscape could offer a compelling model for how textiles—born as practical responses to the environment and repositories of inherited knowledge—can be transformed into fashion that is timeless and relevant to any wardrobe.

At Indian Textiles Gallery II, Tradition and Innovation, National Crafts Museum & Hastkala Academy, Delhi, till 31 March (11am-6pm).