Meet Madhav Agasti, the self-taught tailor who has created costumes for Bollywood heroes and villains for 50 years
Madhav Agasti on making clothes for film actors and politicians for 50 years and how men’s tailoring has evolved over the years
Madhav Agasti, 76, prefers to hand-sew the buttonholes of a suit at his store in Bandra, Mumbai—a practice he’s been following since he started work as a bespoke menswear tailor 50 years ago. Each buttonhole takes over an hour; a machine can do it in less than 10 seconds. The difference is that Agasti’s stitches are nearly invisible.
This attention to detail is how Madhav Agasti has made his name in men’s tailoring in the country. He’s designed costumes for over 350 Hindi films, including Mr. India, Ram Lakhan, Andaz Apna Apna, Chameli Ki Shadi, Himmatwala and Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, and dressed chief ministers and Presidents, including the late Pranab Mukherjee, P.V. Narasimha Rao, Farooq Abdullah and Bal Thackeray.
To mark five decades in the profession and to share his experiences along the way, Agasti has released his autobiography, Stitching Stardom: For Icons, On and Offscreen (Penguin Random House India, ₹499).
Across 150 pages, he writes of how he fell in love with the art of tailoring while watching his father, a priest in Nagpur, Maharashtra, make suits for a lawyer to earn some extra cash. Agasti dropped out of college, where he was studying for a BCom degree, in the late 1960s to move to Gwalior, Madhya Pradesh, with ₹500 in hand to apprentice with a tailor and learn the trade.
Over a span of eight years, he worked with tailors in various cities, honing his skills in different styles of clothing, before making his way to Mumbai in 1973. The book touches briefly upon his experiences of designing costumes for films, many of which, like the late Amrish Puri’s outfit as Mogambo in Mr. India, became part of film history.
It is an inspiring book, reiterating how far skills and experience can take you in your career. It is also among the rare Indian books dedicated to contemporary men’s fashion and tailoring. But that’s also where the book falls short: It would have been a more wholesome read had Agasti delved into what influenced him when he created iconic looks for politicians, heroes and villains, and how that has influenced the country’s dress sense. Had that been examined, the book could have served as a history of male fashion in India, which rarely receives the attention it deserves.
In an interview with Lounge, Agasti talks about his craft and creating clothes for villains and heroes, both on and off screen. Edited excerpts:
You travelled across cities to work with different tailors. Why?
I had to learn different languages of clothing. Across India, people wear different kinds of clothes. I went to Lucknow to learn how to make a sherwani, to Moradabad to learn achkan, to Aligarh for pyjamas. In Delhi, I worked with Sarpal, one of the top tailors at that time, to learn how to make sharply tailored suits. In Mahu and Jodhpur, I learnt to make garments for military servicemen. I spent six months in every city; it didn’t just teach me about making better clothes but also how to deal with customers.
I was the only English-speaking tailor in a sea of regional language-speaking tailors at the time. In many places, I would end up managing the counter and reel in customers. Coat-making was a highly sought-after skill at the time, and since I could create a perfect coat at a young age, it gave me an edge. Experience has been my teacher. Books give you degrees, but the street gives you the experience and truth.
What fascinated you about tailoring?
I grew up watching my dad make coats. We also had a neighbour in Nagpur who used to make coats. While watching them, I learnt the art of tailoring, and picked it up quickly since I was quite young (about 10-11). More than fascination, it was my love for the craft. I knew very early in life that I would be a tailor.
Were your parents happy about it?
No, and thank god for that. That gave me a further push to become a tailor. After leaving home at 19, I didn’t return for eight years. I told myself I will become something big and then return.
Bespoke tailors today get much more respect than before because there aren’t many who can make handmade coats. When it comes to menswear, the fit is key, and design comes second. The fit can be given only by a tailor.
This profession will always remain relevant, more so now with the coming of readymade clothing. A readymade coat may fit your body, but it can’t tell your story, your style. Mass production offers convenience, yes, but tailoring gives soul to what you are wearing. There’s a big difference.
How did you get your break in Bollywood?
I was in Kolkata (working with L Messy as a cutter), but a Naxalite conflict engulfed the city, and I moved to Mumbai in 1973. Then an opportunity came to work with Super Tailors, a prominent name in fashion design and frequented by film stars. That’s when the journey started, to take my work one step ahead, to make a big name.
You write that you enjoyed working on villains’ costumes. How important were trends when you created a look?
Villains’ clothes gave me more space to experiment with trends and different designs. Heroes had to be simpler, understated because of the nature of their character. So they wore plain kurtas or shirts. Villains needed drama. I could give them velvets, leathers, brocades, floral prints—whatever their character demanded and what was trending at the time. Their costumes had to project danger, power, flamboyance, a different kind of power dressing.
For Mogambo’s costume (Mr. India), I was told to create this modern zamindar look with Indian-Western sensibilities. I read foreign magazines, newspapers and encyclopedias on fashion, and made this long military coat with gold detailing, inspired by British uniforms, and added frills to give that foreigner yet zamindar feel.
For Amitabh Bachchan, designing clothes was extra challenging. You had to create something simple, effortless but also striking since he was this big star and a style trendsetter. So we played with a lot of flared trousers, check shirts and extremely tailored tuxedos. Nowadays, you have stylists, image architects; those days, we used to make a “look" after long discussions with the actors and directors.
In Bollywood, I learnt that clothes aren’t just a fabric put into a shape; it’s a character on its own, and each stitch, button, silhouette can reflect one’s personality. Clothes speak before you utter a word.
How different is it to make clothes for politicians?
Politicians are much more conscious of their image (laughs). They have to be since their clothes aren’t about performance but more about offering comfort and reassurance to the public. Plus, they don’t have as much time to give measurements or discuss “looks".
You created that iconic Balasaheb Thackeray look with the shawl.
He didn’t want his skin to show (when light falls on the clothes) on camera. So, I gave him long clothes and a shawl on top. I used polyester cotton (a thicker fabric) for his clothes so his legs won’t show on the camera. Plus, he didn’t like his clothes to look crushed.
How has men’s tailoring evolved over the years?
Trends keep changing every 20 years, and the same fashion comes back. What has changed is how seamless fashion is today; it is no longer restricted to genders (a woman can wear bandhgala, and a man a dupatta). What’s trending is bespoke clothes because readymade fashion has brought style to everyone. If you want to distinguish yourself, of course you’ll wear something that’s only made for you.
Why did you stop making clothes for the film industry?
After Amrishji’s death (in 2005), I stopped. He was one of my first clients; I didn’t feel like doing it after he was gone. I still cut and make suits for clients. My children (Rahul and Shantanu) tell me to stop, but I won’t. Cutting fabric, making clothes gives me life.
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