Making Cotton Delectable: Sarasa Textiles Is Reinterpreting Fabric Rooted In South India
Time and again, I’ve encountered numerous fashion brands and campaigns through Social Media. Instagram definitely is the primary source of discovery. But rarely have I had the sheer luck of just stumbling upon the inception of a brand through my friend circle. Around Onam last year, I met Saira Nazrin, a fashion stylist and NIFT Delhi graduate, and we fell into conversation. She had somehow read the feature I had done on Pero’s latest collection for Homegrown and eventually talkked about her friend’s work with textile artisans in Venkatgiri. Somewhere down the line, me and the friend in question and textile designer, Maribel George, and I found ourselves talking all things Cotton, on a random day on Whatsapp. We talked about the cotton we grew up with, the kind we saw our mothers and grandmothers donning in Kerala that was rarely starched, and draped elegantly; the tactile memory of hanging off our mother’s saree pallu reminded us of how it definitely felt lived in. She shared how her label Sarasa featured delectable cotton sarees, deliberately un-starched to provide the kind of softness that we were reminiscing of, but right from the first wear. But the question of how she managed to do that is one that I held back until this interview came about.
Over the last year, I have seen Maribel’s brand - Sarasa Textiles - come into its own. Developed after extensive research in Venkatgiri in Andhra Pradesh, the pieces from Maribel’s first collection, Cotton Study One, spoke volumes in its simplicity; they feature soft hues - peaches, blues and off-whites, and simple chevrons, polka dots and solid details. The designs from Sarasa don't yell for attention, but rather invite you in to gaze, study and almost reach out; with its softness and finery being recognisable even virtually. After having done pop-ups in Bangalore, Chennai, and Coimbatore, Sarasa by Maribel is currently doing its initial rounds as a brand, taking it to the people and letting them feel the intricacy of weaving that makes it a worthy investment for those who love good cotton attire.
To learn more, I had a not-so-casual conversation with Maribel, who was born in Kerala, brought up between Dubai and Kerala, studied at NIFT Delhi, and had previously worked with labels like Neytt, Injiri, and Antaran by Tata Group in Venkatgiri as a textile designer. The last-mentioned stint in Venkatgiri is what inspired her to start the label. After having done extensive R&D work in the last two years, she has created a language and disposition for Sarasa that draws from the many textile inspirations that have influenced her, while still ensuring novelty in design.
Sarasa was born out of two years of deep research and living within the very craft ecosystem you now seek to revive. Can you tell us what it meant to sit with that slowness, and what emerged from that kind of long, attentive observation?
Moving to Venkatagiri from Delhi was a sudden change; life went from a very fast pace to a slow one. Work in the cluster was intense, and progress was so slow it felt like nothing was happening. In hindsight, progress was compounding, but that was not visible to us back then. What that slowness gave was mindspace to learn, it was like an intense master's program taught by the best of the weavers, not just in design or textile, but in understanding craft, people, communities and businesses that involve them. It also made space to think, to form ideas and perspectives and to test them out. Somewhere in that process, things got a bit personal, and it went beyond research and case studies. Eventually, the slowness got frustrating because it felt like we were not being able to see the textile live up to the potential it holds.
As a designer in your 20s, your practice is grounded in heritage and patience that far exceeds what captures the attention of most young designers and students. What first drew you to Venkatagiri and the weaving traditions here, and when did you know this would be more than just a design project?
Our craft cluster documentation program at NIFT was in Salawas, Jodhpur, and ever since that project, I knew this is what I wanted to do. Out of college, I was on the lookout for jobs in craft clusters because that meant I could travel, meet people, and document as part of work. That's when I got an offer from the Antaran Initiative of Tata Trusts, and that required me to move to Venkatagiri, a cluster they were looking to intervene in, in South India. I jumped at the opportunity. The first few years were all about assisting in intensely documenting the cluster, sustaining and empowering not just the weavers but the entire craft ecosystem, building individual weavers into independent businesses and finding markets for these products that we were reviving.
While this was very rewarding on the ground, it was equally frustrating because most of the people we approached with this textile pushed it aside as old, not viable anymore. Others just wanted that design language and were not concerned about working with a cluster holistically; they just wanted to market the end product without any context of its origins or its current scenario. Nobody wanted to invest in the revival of the ecosystem and practices of the people.
The revival we were doing from a not-for-profit space would mean that these textiles would remain as recreated museum pieces, and until it is made desirable in the market, a revival project would have to happen every 20 years. I could not grasp why they were not seeing how beautiful this textile is, and I didn't want to let go of this project, so I slowly started to think what we could do to communicate this desirability we see in the textile.
You speak of making cotton ‘a delectable experience.’ Can you walk us through the making of a single Sarasa textile - what does it take, from loom to cloth, to achieve that kind of softness and emotional weight?
South India had a fine cotton weaving culture, especially along the Coromandel coastline. Over time, each of them slowly declined, and the weavers moved on to weaving the more lucrative silks. In Venkatagiri, the weavers were more stubborn, while a majority did shift, some of them refused the change. If it wasn't for this stubbornness, none of the work we did thereafter would have happened.
On the loom, we engineer the weaving to hold shape and increase its drapability and fall. It comes from the loom heavily starched, finer counts even more so. In the local market, it is sold as is. We wanted to take cotton away from the stiff, starched perspective to a soft, sensual hand feel. We wash the sarees for a couple of rounds. This means that all the raw materials that go into the making have to be of the best quality, and we have to continuously work with the entire ecosystem to make this happen.
The resulting textiles are a soft, supple yet strong fabric. The next part of the process is the hand painting done by Kalamkari artisans in Sri Kalahasthi. Here, they wash it in milk before applying the dyes so it becomes even softer, much like a ‘panji mittai selai’ ( cotton candy-like saree)
Sarasa’s Cotton Study / One is inspired by the generation who wore cotton textiles with strength and softness, and through celebratory moments and everyday labour. How did their lives, rituals, and sartorial choices shape your design language?
The women we have grown up around are our main inspiration, and we are trying to communicate the desirability that they brought to the textile. This is the north star that has led everything we have done so far with Sarasa.
Sarasa seems deeply rooted in the textures of the South. What does South Indian cotton mean to you personally, and what story are you hoping it tells today?
South Indian cotton traditions are not just a textile; it is a representative of the larger culture. This textile is our medium to depict multiple layers of this larger, often overlooked culture in the fashion landscape. We want to be telling stories of this cotton culture and narratives that hit home. What all exists in the South beyond a ‘Madrasi‘?
Where did you draw the name Sarasa from, and what does it mean for you today to reclaim and reimagine it for the new world?
Sarasa was a textile made using a mixture of fine cotton weaving techniques and Kalamkari by communities along the Coromandel Coast for exporting to Japan. The Gujarati traders who traded it called it ‘saras’, meaning beautiful in their native language. The name evolved to be ‘sarasa’. By the 18th Century, trade bans ceased the Japanese import of Sarasa, and its production declined in India.
It was during my stay at Venkatagiri that I started to notice the similarity of the lungis worn by the men around me to the Sarasa textile. The technique had shifted to screen printing on mill-made fabrics, but the design language was quintessentially the same. Even when the world had forgotten about it, the land and the people found ways to keep it in their lives.
So I started to wonder how this textile can be taken forward? What would be the story that a Sarasa in the 21st century could tell, and what are the various ways it can be brought back into our lives?
You’ve mentioned that craft traditions can only truly survive if they’re made desirable again. What have you learned about desire in design and fashion, how it’s created, how it shifts, and how it can be shaped through something as tactile as cotton?
Craft-based Textile Design is not a discipline that exists in a vacuum; it derives its relevance from the coming together of textiles, design, identities, womanhood, communities and craftsmanship. For cotton to be made desirable again, this context has to be re-established, and design should make space for this bond to be taken forward.
Sarasa’s campaign imagery - like the shoot at Archana Studios - feels more like a visual archive than a typical fashion campaign. How do you approach storytelling visually, and what role does memory play in your creative process?
When we started on the Venkatagiri Revival project at Antaran, Venkatagiri Fine Cottons were largely undocumented, and we had little access to the archival textiles in museums. What informed us of these textiles were accounts of weavers of what they remember their grandparents made, and old images of women. These were often taken at local studios for marriage proposals, and we went through 100s of these images trying to identify potential Venkatagiri cottons. These photographs of women in their youth, with their sisters and best friends, wearing cotton with all that grace and sensuality, gave us hope that if our grandmothers felt this way about cotton, we can rekindle that bond. In the light of this hope, we work on how design can be used to adapt this textile for a new generation of textile patrons.
The campaign featuring images created by Saira Nazrin was a homage to this. Our textiles were revived in spirit, experimental in design and through this imagery, we wanted to evoke a familiar memory.
Your background includes working with designers like Chinar Farooqui at Injiri, and your approach clearly carries a similar quietude and intention. How have mentorship and apprenticeship shaped your understanding of design in the service of craft?
Our faculty for Craft Documentation was Mrs.Sudha Dhingra, and she gave us our first instruction on the impact design can have on craft, both the positives and negatives. She opened us to the possibilities of how design can be used in the service of craft. At Injiri, under Chinar Farooqui, this got reiterated. I picked up how to be in service of craft and how design can make space for craft to grow. The processes with which I approach textile development are very much from watching Chinar, from the coming together of a concept to the practice of being in a conversation of constant exploration. How to research and understand the textile before bringing in a change, many times, how it originally existed, a result of centuries of evolution, is far more beautiful than anything we can bring; it has been the basis of the revival and documentation work we have been doing. If you still want to introduce changes to craft, I have had the opportunity to sensitise myself to the long-term consequences of that.
Truly know what you are working for, what you are working with, how it has existed, how it has evolved, why it evolved that way, how we want to interpret it, and what the consequences of that are. I've learned how to forge relationships with the communities you work with beyond a collection, and I think that is what matters, ultimately.
Sarasa is still young, but it already carries the weight of history with a certain grace. What does the future look like - for the weavers, for the textiles, and yourself as both designer and documentarian?
Our work with Patnam Subramanyam, the artisan who is leading the revival of the cottons in Venkatagiri, has just started. Cotton Study One was a test run to see if the market would resonate. With the confidence we have received over the past few months, we are energised to experiment with all the ideas we have been thinking about while supporting the ecosystem to help us make this happen. Right now, we are enjoying the unpredictability of constant explorations and finding more boundaries to push.
You can follow Sarasa Textiles here.
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