Fendi’s $10,000 Handbag Draws on Abhla Embroidery Without Crediting Its Indian Roots

Fendi, the Italian luxury fashion house has been making clothing, leather goods, shoes and accessories since 1925. They recently launched a handbag for $10,000 that's over Rs. 9 lakh Indian rupees. It comes with 475 mirrors, nearly 40,000 beads, and more than 138 hours of hand craftmanship. Fendi calls it a "multicolour edition bag with embroidery and mirrors."

But if you’re Indian, chances are you have seen this bag before, not on a runway, but in your mother’s cupboard or at a Navratri stall in Gujarat. The mirrors, colour palette and intricate craftsmanship are rooted in the Gujarati tradition of abhla embroidery, a craft that has existed for generations, long before Fendi’s latest interpretation. There is little that feels reinvented here; the familiar craft has simply been placed within a luxury framework, accompanied by a logo and a whooping price tag.

And this is not an isolated instance. It points to a growing pattern. But before we get into Fendi’s interpretation, let’s first look at abhla embroidery itself.

Abhla: The Craft Of Catching Light

In the villages of Kutch, Gujarat and parts of Rajasthan, a needle and a fragment of mirror for centuries, have done what no machine can replicate. Abhla embroidery which is also known as shisha work is built on a deceptively the practice of using small pieces of reflective glass, stitched into fabric, catching light with every movement of the wearer.

The craft's origins are more than decorative. Tradition holds that the mirrors served a protective purpose, deflecting negative energy away from whoever wore them. This belief elevated Abhla work beyond ornament and into ritual, which is why it became so closely tied to ceremony and git woven into bridal garments, festival wear, and the fabric of community celebration across generations.

Each mirror is placed by hand, locked into position using stitches such as chain, buttonhole or satin work, which form intricate frames around the glass while adding their own texture to the design. Motifs vary by artisan and region, ranging from delicate florals to bold geometric patterns, each carrying a signature of the hand that made it.

This is precisely what separates genuine Abhla embroidery from imitation. No two pieces are identical, because every artisan's spacing, tension and finish differ from the next.

Kutch remains the spiritual home of this tradition, celebrated as India's foremost centre for mirror work and handcrafted textiles more broadly. Yet the craft's reach now extends well beyond its origins, appearing on runways and in luxury collections worldwide. What often goes unsaid, is where it began and the generations of artisans who made it worth borrowing in the first place.

Borrowed Without Credit

Consider the Kolhapuri chappal, the sturdy leather sandals worn across Maharashtra and Karnataka for centuries. Last year, Prada sent identical sandals down its runway, with no reference to India in the original description. Only after public backlash did the brand acknowledge the source, eventually crediting Indian artisans and producing a "Made in India" line. The correction came after the recoil, not before.

On the other side, Ralph Lauren offers a fuller case study in this omission. First came the jhumka, reintroduced as a "vintage accessory." Then a bandhani skirt priced in thousands. Most recently, an evening gown built on zardozi which is a centuries-old metallic embroidery technique with roots in the Indian royal courts was described only as "hand-applied embellishments." Each description is technically accurate, but none says the one word that matters.

It’s Not the Craft, It’s the Credit

To be clear, the issue here is not inspiration. Fashion has always borrowed, adapted and reinterpreted from different cultures, and it always will. Nor is it to price as luxury pricing answers to its own logic and $10,000 for beadwork is, by that industry's standards unremarkable.

The objection is narrower and more specific as it is the refusal to name the source. Behind mirror work, zardozi, and Kolhapuri leathercraft are communities of artisans who have spent generations refining these techniques. For them, this is not a seasonal aesthetic to be revived by the fashion calendar. It is a livelihood and also an inheritance. To borrow the technique while omitting its name is erasure.

There is also something almost absurd in the timing of it all. Indian craft did not wait for Western discovery to matter. Jhumkas were worn long before they reached a Paris runway. Zardozi and mirror work were practiced long before an editor called them elevated. The value was always there. What the luxury label adds is not worth, only volume.

None of this is an argument that Indian fashion requires Western validation. It does not, and never has. But that is precisely what makes the omission harder to justify. Crediting a craft costs a brand nothing. No royalty, no design hour, no stitch of labor. It requires one proper attribution and a simple line "Inspired by Indian embroidery."

That is the entirety of the ask.

So to anyone who already owns a mirror-work bag sitting quietly in their closet, you have, been carrying luxury all along. Perhaps it is time to price it accordingly.