Why is urban India moving away from bright colours in fashion?

Look around you. How many people do you see dressed in bright colours? Chances are, not many. I’m writing this at my office desk, surrounded by colleagues in muted shades of white, grey, blue and black.

I began paying closer attention to the colours people wear about three weeks ago after a visit to a south Delhi mall. That Sunday afternoon, every store window had displayed spring-summer collections in the same restrained spectrum—white, grey, blue, black. Even outside the stores, shoppers blended into a sea of neutrals.

The same palette was visible the following weekend, this time on a Metro ride. At a fashion party midweek, the dress code was “comfort casual”. Most people were in either black or white. The recent fashion week, too, kept the shade card largely restricted to neutrals.

To be clear, it isn’t that bright colours have disappeared entirely. You will still find a wide range of colours inside stores. But in a country long associated with vivid hues, we don’t seem to be reaching for them as often when stepping out.

A quick, informal survey of colleagues and friends across cities suggests this isn’t incidental. Neutrals and darker shades have become the default in urban wardrobes.

Maybe it’s a colonial hangover. The British did change how Indians dressed, bringing with them Western tailoring and a quieter, more restrained aesthetic that, arguably, still informs what urban India considers “appropriate” or “sophisticated”. Add to that a westernised corporate culture at work that prizes fitting in, being subtle, and “looking global”. Then there is the influence of fast fashion. Global brands such as Zara and H&M that cater to a wide, international audience tend to favour a largely neutral palette that travels easily across markets.

The shift is also cultural. Over the past few years, fashion has been moving away from excess. The rise of “quiet luxury”, with its emphasis on minimalism and investment dressing, has made neutrals not just acceptable, but aspirational. In a climate where understated increasingly signals sophistication, colour can begin to feel excessive.

It is telling that Bollywood celebrity wardrobes, including bridal ones, are now increasingly embracing shades of white and cream with far greater ease than before. Runways across the country, too, are increasingly dominated by paler palettes. Even Pantone’s Colour of the Year for 2026, “Cloud Dancer”, a soft, billowy white, is meant to evoke calm and clarity in a noisy world.

Sure, spring may be here, but these are not exactly sunny times. And yet, colours, much like fashion, have the power to shift mood. In a room full of beige and white, a colleague in our Delhi bureau stood out in a saffron kurta. “I was feeling a bit low with everything that’s happening in the world,” he said. “I thought, why not do something different and cheer myself up.”

Another colleague, dressed in a green gingham shirt with khaki trousers, admitted, “As much as I love wearing colour, I avoid it because I want to be taken seriously.” Then, almost as an aside, he added: “Today you see me in some colour because I’m serving my notice period.”

Colour is not just about taste—it is about perception and how we want to be seen. And perhaps, more importantly, whether we have decided that blending in feels safer than standing out.