A luxury brand copying an iconic Indian design should spark anger. But it should also spark introspection.
Recently, Prada released a sandal that looked suspiciously like the humble, hand-crafted Kolhapuri chappal. Priced at over ₹1.2 lakh, it featured the same structure, same silhouette—and not a whisper of where the design came from. Only after public outrage did Prada quietly update the product description to mention India’s contribution (source)
The plagiarism is obvious. But what’s worse is the pattern it reflects: India often needs foreign validation to notice what’s right under its nose.
The Kolhapuri That Wasn’t Cool Enough—Until Now
The Kolhapuri chappal, made by artisans in Maharashtra for over 800 years, is part of India’s rich craft legacy. And yet, before the Prada scandal, when was the last time you saw them on an Indian fashion runway or magazine cover?
Indians themselves had stopped valuing these crafts—until they saw it tagged as “luxury” in Milan. We mocked it as old-fashioned, not runway-worthy, much like Khadi, which for decades was considered boring or 'netagiri fashion', until international designers began weaving it into sustainable chic. Now it’s cool, because Vogue says so.
We don’t need colonizers anymore—we’ve outsourced validation to the West.
It’s Not Just Fashion. It’s a Pattern.
This isn’t about a pair of chappals. It’s about a mindset.
When someone in Brooklyn drinks haldi doodh, it’s a wellness ritual.
Here, we call it “grandma’s cure” and roll our eyes.
When yoga studios abroad chant Sanskrit shlokas, it’s spiritual.
When it happens at home, it’s either political or passé.
Even our history is subject to this collective neglect—or worse, deliberate erasure.
Just this year, Aurangzeb’s tomb in Maharashtra had to be barricaded and guarded round-the-clock after threats to deface or destroy it due to political anger (source).
Instead of preserving monuments to educate and reflect, we’re trying to erase chapters of history we dislike.
So, Why Don’t We Care First?
India is rich in design, craft, textiles, and monuments. But we only seem to appreciate them when someone else sells it back to us with better marketing and a dollar tag.
If Prada hadn’t copied Kolhapuris, would we even be talking about them right now?
Prada’s appropriation isn’t the only scandal here. The bigger one is that India didn’t care first.
Until we learn to value our own stories—whether it’s what we wear, eat, or stand on—we’ll keep watching the world profit off a heritage we barely protect.
Let’s not just demand credit from Prada.
Let’s give some to ourselves. While we still can.
