Cultural Revival: Appreciation or Appropriation?

That “Trad Look” Isn’t Always Innocent
- Revival or Rebrand?
The Appropriation Test
Real Examples, Real Damage
Pop Culture’s Love-Hate Relationship with “Ethnic”
The Nuance Zone: When Revival is Needed
What Should Revival Really Look Like?
Not Everything Sacred Needs a Rebrand
Final Thoughts: Where Do We Go From Here?
Citations

Indian culture is no longer confined to heritage museums or family trunks; it's strutting down red carpets and commanding couture price tags. But as traditional crafts, rituals, and styles get rebranded as “boho-chic” or “exotic couture,” a pressing question arises: Is this appreciation or appropriation in a designer disguise?

ARISTA HASTI in Assamese by Mridu Moucham Bora

That “Trad Look” Isn’t Always Innocent

A nose ring on Gen Z is now a vibe. A saree is the new red carpet gown. Mukaish embroidery, once handwoven in Lucknow’s dusty by-lanes, is now walking runways in Paris with a ₹1.67 crore price tag, courtesy of Dior.

Dior's newest collection includes a USD 200,000 coat featuring Lucknow's mukaish embroidery

Suddenly, what was once “too desi” is now “delicately Indian with a global edge.”

It sounds like progress, but look closer. These “revivals” rarely credit, let alone compensate for the communities they borrow from. They cherry-pick heritage, sterilize its context, and resell it to a global audience with zero trace of its origin.

And that’s where homage starts to look a lot like heist.

Revival or Rebrand?

Cultural revival is supposed to be a powerful movement but a way to reconnect with roots, preserve dying artforms, and reclaim pride in identity. For colonized cultures like India, it can be an act of resistance.

PEEPAL LEAF- green and purple Handwoven Cotton Saree

But what happens when luxury brands use “revival” as a marketing buzzword?

They pick up ancient weaves, rename them “artisanal,” and slap a couture tag on top. From turmeric being sold as “golden lattes” to yoga being turned into a lifestyle brand divorced from its spiritual core, we’re watching centuries-old practices get stripped, dipped, and rebranded for global consumption, minus the original soul.

It’s not a revival. It’s a repackage.

The Appropriation Test

Here’s a simple 3-question test to check whether something is genuine revival or stylish exploitation:

Who profits?

Dior’s ₹1.67 crore Mukaish coat was modeled on Indian embroidery, but how much of that money reached the hands of actual Mukaish artisans?

Who’s represented?

When Prada launched leather slippers that closely resembled Kolhapuris without crediting Kolhapur, Maharashtra, or the artisans, it wasn’t “inspired,” it was extraction.

Who’s erased?

When pop stars like Gwen Stefani or Selena Gomez wore bindis on stage, they were seen as edgy. But in Indian workplaces, the same bindi can be deemed “too ethnic.” So who gets to wear tradition as a trend, and who gets punished for it?

Selena wearing the offending bindi

If your answers center around luxury houses and Western faces, chances are, it’s appropriation, not appreciation.

Real Examples, Real Damage

This isn’t theoretical. Let’s get specific:

Prada and the Kolhapuri Sandal

In 2025, Prada released a “retro leather slipper”, a design that mirrored the classic Kolhapuri chappal. There was no mention of Kolhapur, no nod to its heritage or the artisans who’ve handcrafted them for generations.

The irony? Those same artisans often struggle to earn ₹400 a pair.

Dior’s Mukaish Couture

Dior’s 2023 India show featured a hand-embroidered coat that used traditional Mukaish kaam, an artform practiced by Muslim artisans in Lucknow for centuries. While the craftsmanship was stunning, there was no real dialogue around the artform’s decline or how the fashion house intended to support its revival sustainably.

Jean Paul Gaultier’s use of Banarasi silks to Chanel’s incorporation of gota and resham

The Bindi’s Identity Crisis

The bindi, once a marker of identity, marriage, and spirituality, has been repackaged by Western celebrities as a “forehead jewel.” From Kendall Jenner to Vanessa Hudgens, bindis became Coachella fashion. But for brown girls wearing them to school? It was often grounds for bullying.

Appropriation takes what’s meaningful and makes it marketable — for someone else.

Pop Culture’s Love-Hate Relationship with “Ethnic”

The problem runs deep in pop culture:

Henna, once a sacred symbol in Indian and Middle Eastern weddings, is now an “aesthetic” sold in music festivals without meaning.
Bollywood-inspired couture walks international runways, but the weavers of Kanchipuram, Banaras, or Chanderi continue to live on subsistence wages.
Indian rituals like “Panchakarma” are now $8,000 Goop-approved retreats in Malibu, with no mention of Ayurveda’s Vedic lineage.

Revival is no longer about preservation. It’s about packaging ancient culture as a “new global lifestyle.”

The Nuance Zone: When Revival is Needed

That said, not all revival is bad. In fact, some of it is deeply necessary and even sacred.

When second-generation Indian-Americans wear sarees to prom, it’s not appropriation but reclamation.
When Dalit artists reclaim folk music, it’s not theft but resistance.
When tribal weavers are at the helm of a design house, it’s not borrowing but pride.

Revival becomes powerful when it happens within the community, for the community. When artisans are collaborators, not footnotes. When tradition is lived, not just styled.

What Should Revival Really Look Like?

Let’s rewrite the playbook.

Give Credit Where It’s Due

Designs aren’t just visual but historical. Acknowledge the source. Don’t just call it “tribal embroidery.” Say Lambani. Say Toda. Say Banjara.

Pay the Origin, Not Just the Trend

Revival isn’t real if it doesn’t bring money, dignity, and opportunity back to the source. Hire local artisans, share profits, co-create narratives.

Contextualise, Don’t Exoticise

Every cultural artifact comes with context. The way to truly revive something is to tell its full story, not just the part that looks good in a photoshoot. Culture is not a costume. It's a lived experience. It deserves respect, not remixing.

Not Everything Sacred Needs a Rebrand

A sari carries more than craftsmanship but carries lineage. The rituals your grandmother performed weren’t lifestyle content; they were quiet revolutions in care and belief. And the bindi is an accessory of self-assertion.

In a world that’s obsessed with virality, we tend to rebrand everything that’s rooted. But some things aren’t meant to be redone. Some things are already complete, they don’t need a modern twist. They need space, reverence, continuity.

Let’s not turn culture into content. Let’s not turn tradition into a trend.

Final Thoughts: Where Do We Go From Here?

The next time you see a “heritage collection” or a “sustainable Indian-inspired line,” ask: Is this giving back or just taking again? Cultural revival should feel like homecoming, not colonial chic. Let’s lift the communities we borrow from. Let’s platform the artisans, the grandmothers, the keepers of the craft. Because true revival doesn’t come with a flashy price tag. It comes with respect. And that cannot be rebranded.