The Fashion Capital that Forgot to Brag
By Anushka Quadir ‘27
Anushka Quadir in Sarah Karim
Bengal has long been recognized as a region defined by creativity, intellect, and cultural sophistication. It is a place where literature, music, visual art, and political thought have flourished for centuries. From Nobel laureates Rabindranath Tagore and Muhammad Yunus to Amartya Sen and Abhijit Banerjee, Bengalis have left a lasting mark on some of the world’s most respected intellectual spheres. The depth of Bengal’s contribution to global culture is not in question—it is a fact. Yet, in the world of fashion, Bengal remains curiously underappreciated.
Bengal is not simply West Bengal in India or Bangladesh across the river. Bengal has always been larger than the political borders that now divide it. It is an ethnicity, a language, and a cultural identity that continues to move across boundaries. There is a shared history and imagination that has shaped the region’s artistic traditions for generations. In fashion, as in so much else, Bengal has always been part of the blueprint, but the industry has not given it the credit it deserves.
Dhaka Muslin: The Original Luxury Fabric
Long before Paris and Milan were labeled fashion capitals, Bengal was already exporting luxury textiles to the world. Dhaka muslin, produced along the banks of the Meghna River, was once the most sought-after fabric on the planet. So fine it was known as “woven air,” Dhaka muslin was a wonder of craftsmanship, made through a painstaking sixteen-step process using a rare variety of cotton that grew only in the Meghna river.
The demand for Dhaka muslin crossed continents and centuries; owning it was not just about wealth, but about access to the highest level of craftsmanship and exclusivity that few could claim. It clothed Mughal emperors and was draped over European royalty like Marie Antoinette and Josephine Bonaparte. Aristocrats across Enlightenment Europe prized it as the height of refinement, and in ancient Greece, even statues of goddesses were draped in the fabric.
The muslin of Dhaka was not just beautiful, it was revolutionary. In 18th-century Europe, it changed the shape of fashion itself, replacing the heavy, structured gowns of the Georgian era with light, flowing muslin dresses. It caused moral scandals, with satirists accusing women of appearing naked in public because the fabric was so sheer and delicate.
The making of Dhaka muslin was not the work of a single artisan. It was a collective effort spread across villages around Dhaka, with each community specializing in a different part of the process, often passed down through generations. The cotton was carefully cleaned using fish bones, spun into fine threads by women during the most humid hours of the day, and woven into cloth so detailed that the thread counts could reach between 800 and 1200 per square inch. Even today, modern cotton fabrics rarely come close to that level of precision.
However, this extraordinary industry did not survive colonial rule. British economic policies, led by the East India Company, systematically dismantled Bengal’s muslin economy. Weavers were forced into impossible production demands, pushed into debt, and undercut by industrialized textiles produced in Britain. The rare cotton plant used for Dhaka muslin, Phuti karpas, eventually disappeared, and with it, the knowledge of how to make the fabric was lost.
Yet even in the face of such erasure, Bengal’s tradition of craftsmanship endured. The legacy of Dhaka muslin lives on today through the art of Jamdani weaving, which continues to be practiced in Bangladesh and has been recognised by UNESCO as an intangible cultural heritage. While the original muslin has not yet been fully resurrected, new efforts to revive the lost cotton and weaving techniques continue. Bengal’s place in textile history is not a story of disappearance, but of survival and ongoing craftsmanship. (1)
Zaina Mahbub in custom Salwar Kameez
South Asia’s Biggest Designer is Bengali
Fast forward to today, and one name dominates conversations about South Asian fashion: Sabyasachi Mukherjee. His designs are everywhere: Bollywood films, Vogue shoots, and global red carpets. Every South Asian bride dreams of wearing his sari or lehenga on their special day. He has collaborated with global brands like Christian Louboutin, H&M, and Estée Lauder. His vision defines what South Asian luxury looks like today.
Yet, how often do we hear people talk about Sabyasachi as a Bengali designer? Born and raised in Kolkata, his work is deeply rooted in Bengal’s culture. His storytelling, devotion to artisanal textiles, and respect for craft all flow directly from Bengal’s creative traditions.
The fashion industry usually frames Sabyasachi within the broader story of Indian luxury, and rightfully so. He is, proudly and fully, an Indian designer. But part of the beauty of India, and South Asia more broadly, is its regional and ethnic diversity. Rajasthan is celebrated for bridal couture, Banaras for silk weaving, and Kashmir for pashmina. Bengal’s influence, however, often gets absorbed into the wider narrative without being properly named.
A recent South China Morning Post article discussing Sabyasachi’s “mission to reclaim his cultural heritage” interprets this as India as a whole. (2) This is not surprising, given how long India has been overlooked in global fashion conversations, but Bengal deserves specific recognition too. Sabyasachi’s designs are not just a reflection of Indian heritage in general, but also of the particular history, craftsmanship, and imagination of Bengal.
Sabyasachi himself has never distanced his work from Bengal. Quite the opposite, in fact. His high jewelry collection, Bengal Royale, explicitly pays homage to his roots. On his official website, he writes about the cultural richness of 1920s Kolkata, the fusion of European techniques with Mughal heritage, and Bengali craftsmanship. He even notes that Bengal’s handcrafted jewelry traditions were at risk of being forgotten, and mentions that part of his mission is to bring that legacy back. (3)
It is not Sabyasachi who overlooks his “Bengaliness.” It is often the global media and fashion industry that tends to generalize his achievements into a broader “Indian” success story without acknowledging the specific cultural foundation he comes from. Part of the reason is structural. Heavily supported by Bollywood and national media—Mumbai and Delhi dominate India’s fashion economy. Bengal lacks that support. Kolkata’s fashion scene remains smaller and more independent, without the same networks that project designers onto global platforms.
Recognition may come slowly, but the influence is already there. The leading name in South Asian fashion is a reminder of that.
Creativity without Infastructure
Across the border in Bangladesh, the story continues in a different form. The country is home to designers who are shaping Bengal’s textile legacy into something modern, elegant, and global.
Designers like Rina Latif, Humaira Khan, and Sarah Karim stand out not just for their technical skill but for their ability to breathe new life into fabrics like amdani and muslin. Their work respects tradition without being trapped by it, offering a version of Bengali fashion that feels contemporary, sophisticated, and distinct.
Still, Bangladeshi designers face barriers that go beyond creativity. The country’s fashion ecosystem is geared toward mass production, not luxury branding. While India’s designers have Bollywood and large luxury markets to help launch them onto the global stage, Bangladesh’s designers work within a smaller domestic market, without the same international distribution channels or retail partnerships. Establishing a presence abroad is complicated by everything from logistics to regulations to a lack of direct access to high-end buyers. Without strong networks beyond the local market, it is hard for brands to gain global visibility.
On top of that, the structure of Bangladesh’s garment industry itself makes it difficult for designers to move up the value chain. As the Asian Development Bank points out, Bangladesh’s success in ready-made garments is built on delivering large volumes at low cost, not on designing or marketing higher-end fashion. (4) Because the global fashion value chain is segmented, and brand identity is controlled by the west, local designers have limited space to innovate or build brands that can thrive internationally.
Talent is not the issue. It never was. It is about scale, visibility, and who controls the fashion spotlight. These designers are proof that Bengal’s innovative spirit is alive in Bangladesh, just waiting for a bigger platform.
Namrita Ghani in Rita Latif
"Made in Bangladesh"
Bangladesh is not yet celebrated as a luxury fashion capital, but it is already indispensable to the global fashion economy. During the fiscal year 2023–24, Bangladesh’s garment exports reached $38.14 billion (5), a number that reflects just how vital the country is to dressing the world, from Zara and H&M to Calvin Klein and Hugo Boss.
But when people see the “Made in Bangladesh” label, they rarely associate it with craftsmanship, creativity, or innovation. Instead, it is too often reduced to a symbol of cheap labour. As Forbes mentions, there is a deep-rooted bias in the industry that treats workers and products from countries like Bangladesh as inherently lower-value, regardless of the skill and artistry involved. (6) This erases the possibility of recognizing Bangladesh’s role not just as a manufacturer, but as a creative force.
The segmentation of the global fashion value chain makes it even harder. According to the Asian Development Bank, most of the value in fashion is created at the branding and retail end, far from where garments are produced. Brands hold the power to set prices and define value, while manufacturers are locked into a system where cost-cutting is prioritized over design or innovation. Even as Bangladesh supplies fast fashion giants, it struggles to move beyond basic production because of how disconnected its factories are from the centres of fashion influence. (7)
The labels stitched into everyday clothes trace back to Bengali artisans, pattern cutters, weavers, and embroiderers whose skills have been refined over centuries. But the creativity, technical excellence, and resilience behind those garments often go unnoticed.
Recognition, Not Reinvention
Recognizing Bengal’s place in global fashion will not happen overnight. Building stronger platforms in Kolkata and Dhaka, creating more access for Bengali designers, and shifting how “Made in Bangladesh” or “Made in India” is collectively understood are slow, complicated processes. They take time, infrastructure, and a willingness to look beyond old narratives.
But the story is already there. Bengal’s textile traditions deserve to be celebrated as openly as Rajasthan’s bridal crafts or Banaras’s silks. This is not about drawing lines between countries. It is about recognising a cultural identity that has always been creative, intellectual, and forward-thinking.
Bengal shaped the foundations of global luxury long before the industry had a name for it. It continues to do so quietly, whether or not the world has noticed. It deserves to be understood not as a forgotten influence, but as an active and continuing part of the story.
Footnotes:
1. Zaria Gorvett, "The ancient fabric that no one knows how to make," BBC Future, 2021.
2. Vincenzo La Torre, "Sabyasachi Mukherjee’s mission to reclaim his cultural heritage," South China Morning Post, 2025.
3. Sabyasachi, "Bengal Royale," Sabyasachi, 2025.
4. Asian Development Bank, "Why Bangladesh’s Garments Won’t Go ‘Haute Couture’ (I)," ADB Blog, 2016.
5. "Revised Data Shows Bangladesh RMG Exports Dip 5.22% in FY24," Fibre2Fashion News Desk, 2024.
6. Brooke Roberts-Islam, "Why Does The Fashion Industry Care Less About Garment Workers In Other Countries," Forbes, 2020.
7. Asian Development Bank, "Why Bangladesh’s Garments Won’t Go ‘Haute Couture’ (II)," ADB Blog, 2016.