Step inside Divani’s flagship store in New Delhi, and you enter a sanctum of splendour. Zardozi embroidery, a 500-year-old legacy of gilded needlework, adorns not just the label’s couture, but the very architecture of the space as well. The walls are decorated with archival zardozi pieces, and the ceiling glimmers with repurposed embroidery panels interlaced with nine varied tones of gold thread punctuated by semi-precious stones.
“It’s more of a museum than a store,” says founder Sanya Dhir to Robb Report India. “We’re not selling a product; we’re selling a feeling.” The store is an experience designed to awaken the senses to the opulence, artistry, and historical weight of zardozi.
Authentic zardozi—derived from zard (gold) and dozi (workmanship)—involves metal threads stitched by hand using a single needle technique to create intricate three-dimensional embroidery. It is one of the most expensive crafts in Indian couture, traditionally done with gold and silver wires. "We still use pure copper taar (wire)," Dhir says, "but on request, we execute pieces in real silver and gold." At Divani, such heirloom pieces can reach upwards of INR 38 lakhs and even crores, depending upon the weight and intricacy. “We’ve restored family heirlooms made entirely in precious metal, and recreated elements like sanchas (stamped moulds) at the client's request. These are museum-grade garments,” adds Dhir.
The Weight of Rarity
At the heart of India’s most expensive craftsmanship lies an unforgiving equation: the finer the detail, the more time-intensive the labour, and thus, the more astronomical the cost. In an ensemble, it’s these minute, almost invisible stitches—French knots, fine zardozi jaali (net-like work), and silk Suzani fills—that command the highest prices per square inch. Ace couturier Tarun Tahiliani, who has spent three decades mastering the mechanics of Indian craftsmanship, says, “People don’t understand the level of workmanship that goes into making some of these pieces. We do full saris in Suzani technique.” He adds, “It can take hundreds of hours to produce one garment, with artisans working in painstaking detail often for weeks. This drives the cost.”
For textile revivalist and designer Ashdeen Z. Lilaowala, breathing new life into gara embroidery has been as much about preserving heritage as it has been about decoding a near-forgotten visual language. “When I started, there was no repertoire that the karigars (artisans) could refer to,” he shares. “The tangible references were books, old pieces, and fragments I had archived.” These visuals became the teaching tools to convey the nuances of Parsi embroidery, an art form that blends Chinese, Persian and Indian aesthetics. Yet, it had no living lineage in contemporary fashion when he began.
Unlike other traditional Indian embroideries, gara is distinctly painterly. “It’s about realism where birds, flowers, and foliage, are rendered with life-like precision,” says Lilaowala. “There’s little abstraction. Every needle movement must mimic brushstrokes; every petal must feel like it’s blooming.”
What further complicates the process is the predominant use of white thread. “You’re sculpting form through negative space, using only texture, density, and spacing. It took time for the karigars to grasp this subtlety,” he adds.
Yet in the times of fast fashion, conveying the true worth of hand embroidery remains an uphill task. “Just the embroidery on a sari can take eight to 10 weeks of handwork,” he explains. “But that’s only one layer. There’s the khakha (design tracing), layout planning, and colour blending. We’ve used up to 40 shades in a single piece. It’s not just craft; it's art.” Price points reflect this labour and legacy. “Our classic saris begin around INR 90,000 and can go up to INR 8 lakhs,” he shares.
Meera Ali, co-founder of the House of Kotwara, a label known for reviving chikankari, reminds us that these garments are living museums. "Each piece is a narrative. You're wearing generations of knowledge and identity. The cost reflects that." At Kotwara, entire villages in Awadh are engaged in producing a single garment. The economic upliftment this production brings is part of the story you're buying.
Couture as a Living Archive
According to Abu Jani and Sandeep Khosla, the maximalist couturiers known for their opulent chikankari, resham, zardozi and gotta patti, the true challenge lies in the infrastructure. "Craft is expensive because it is time-intensive. Our embroideries are complex, exceptionally intricate, and exude the highest quality of workmanship. While our rarest and most time-consuming piece is the chikankari, all our work is rare and precious," says the duo. "Even more so because we have to create an ecosystem wherein we train the karigars, give them a livelihood, and nurture the next generation." Their atelier once famously took over two years to complete a single bridal piece.
This commitment to preservation is not just aesthetic but also existential. For Dhir, the launch of the Zardoz Project marked a pivotal moment in the cultural conservation of the artisan, especially for the zardozikar or master craftsman of zardozi. "We realised it was more important to preserve the craftsman than the craft itself," says Dhir. The initiative offers holistic support, including fair wages, healthcare, education for children, and work for the women of artisan families. This immersive environment is designed to ensure generational continuity in a craft that's otherwise at the risk of vanishing.
Manish Malhotra, whose couture label has bridged Bollywood glamour and traditional Indian handwork, echoes this sentiment. “The preservation and elevation of India’s artisanal legacy requires a more strategic long-term vision that goes beyond sentiment and moves into systemic action. Designers can spotlight craftsmanship through design, yes, but we need policymakers to create frameworks that protect intellectual property, offer economic incentives, and ensure dignified livelihoods for our artisans. We need a more rigorous documentation, academic discourse, and design education that treats craft as an integral part of global luxury. It’s about shifting the lens from viewing handwork as 'traditional' to positioning it as intelligent, intentional, and irreplaceable,” says Malhotra.
Through his ongoing work with the Mijwan Welfare Society, Malhotra is also generating employment and educating the next generation of artisans and craftsmen. “It’s about giving them the tools, dignity and platforms they deserve,” he adds.
Reimagining the Legacy
However, preservation alone doesn’t future-proof tradition. The true alchemy lies in evolution. “For me, heritage isn’t a relic,” Malhotra asserts, “It’s an evolving dialogue. Contemporary silhouettes and global showcases are how we make our artisanal legacy aspirational.”
Jani and Khosla are unequivocal: “We are devoted to protecting India’s remarkable legacy of hand craftsmanship. But we also believe it must evolve. The challenge isn’t just sustaining the craft. It is creating, and redefining the old with a brand-new expression.”
Tahiliani’s design vocabulary balances structured modernity with Indian textiles. His recent label, OTT by TT, reinterprets Indian embroidery for a younger clientele by placing hand-embroidered kurtas alongside cocktail dresses.
Meera Ali outlines three paths to re-engage younger audiences: “First, link craft to sustainability. The new generation is more conscious than ever! Second, marry traditional embellishment with global silhouettes and motifs. And third, play on nostalgia. Many have seen the beauty of craft in their parents’ wardrobes—that emotional thread runs deep.”
A Call to Action
The path to global recognition for Indian craft cannot rest solely on couture shoulders. Institutional support is imperative.
Malhotra calls for “IP protection, financial incentives, and design education that treats craft as an integral part of global luxury, not a nostalgic niche.” Abu Jani and Sandeep Khosla emphasise the need for investment and infrastructure: “We have the goods. We need marketing muscle, international stores, and strategic backing to compete on the world stage.”
Tahiliani adds a final thought: “India doesn’t need to emulate anyone. We just need to be seen on our own terms, in our own voice, with the richness only we possess.”
In a world chasing immediacy, India’s couture craftsmen stand as guardians of time. And in the most luxurious corners of fashion, patience is the ultimate currency.
