Ten years ago, Hyderabad’s fashion landscape was learning the language of its own loom. Today, it’s owning it — one not nostalgic, but reinvented. Across the city, designers are taking Telugu textiles out of their predictable contexts and turning them into silhouettes that feel global, experimental, and contemporary. Ikat is engineered into new structures, Narayanpet is finding fresh fluidity, and handwoven yardage is stepping into casual and couture alike. We spotlight five labels that are reshaping the story, each proving that heritage is evolving beautifully.
Some designers discover a medium on their own. For Vinita Passary, the founder of Translate — Handwoven Ikat, it felt more like the opposite. On a visit to the Pochampally weaving clusters in 2010, what she saw shaped the next 15 years of her life. Yarns in vivid colours, drying across lanes, families working in synchrony, an intricate, time-honoured craft unfolding in rhythms. “It was love at first sight,” she recalls. “I wanted to lend my own lens to this textile.” That, of course, was Telangana Ikat — one of India’s most complex resist-dyeing traditions, where precision, patience and community are entwined. For Vinita, the early years of Translate were about understanding the way the yarn behaves, colour settles, and motifs transform on the loom. She says, “I have spent 15 years working with artisans, designers and inter-generational skills to reinterpret Ikat meaningfully. Contemporary design is a relationship.” This philosophy shaped every aspect of the brand.
Motif, colour, yarn and culture, “all are important,” she explains. What sets the brand apart is the way these elements have pushed into new territory with softer yarns that feel better on the skin; colour palettes that bring freshness; and motifs that evolve from rigidity into patterns that move swiftly. This is visible in Kusubana, inspired by Japanese sakura blossoms. Telangana Ikat features close, visible repeats — but Kusubana breaks that. Motifs bloom gently across the fabric, creating movement. Another collection, Fuji, uses colour-blocked stripes — graphic, modern, and unlike the Ikat people recognise. The technique remains tie and dye. It is this rethinking that leaves people surprised that the same weavers could produce both traditional and contemporary. “Changes happen when you work closely and artisans feel encouraged to experiment,” Vinita says.
Traditional Ikat results in garments looking identical. Translate has no two similar pieces. Vinita says, “Our pieces are timeless garments meant to be worn and passed on.”
In a city where handloom often arrives wrapped in nostalgia, Taram by MyRiti is part of the new wave, proving that Telugu textiles can be breezy, modern and effortlessly wearable. Founded by Swathi Matam, Mithul Shah and Mahendra Matam, the label stands at the intersection of cultural memory and contemporary minimalism, reimagining regional weaves — particularly Narayanpet and Ikat — into silhouettes that feel as light as they are rooted.
For a younger generation discovering handloom on its own terms, Taram is rewriting the vocabulary: softer colours, lighter drapes, and silhouettes that translate seamlessly into everyday dressing.
For the founders, Telugu textiles were never a forced decision — they were a natural pull. “Being from Telangana, these weaves have always been part of our identity,” they share. Narayanpet’s familiar checks, Ikat’s rhythmic geometry, the rich hand feel of regional cottons — these weren’t just fabrics but an emotion they grew up in.
What aligned perfectly with Taram’s design philosophy was the drape. “The fabric has to move effortlessly,” they say. “Our silhouettes are built on comfort, so the drape is always the first thing we study.” Once they understand how a textile flows, the colours and motifs fall into place, allowing them to preserve the authenticity of the weave while giving it a fresh visual language.
This sensitivity to texture and fall becomes immediately visible in their RimJim Collection, one of their most striking reinterpretations of Narayanpet. The textile’s iconic check patterns and heritage remains, but everything else feels delightfully unexpected: puffed sleeves, tiered dresses, asymmetrical cuts, co-ord sets. Pieces that, at a glance, many didn’t believe were traditional handloom. “That surprise was exactly what we aimed for,” the founders say. The collection became a quiet statement — proof that Telugu handloom need not be confined to saris or kurta sets. It has full potential to be whimsical, youthful, and global in its sensibility.
Of course, working with handloom comes with its own challenges, the biggest being time. As demand grows, matching production speed with the slow rhythm of the loom is a constant balancing act. Taram works around this with careful planning, staggered drops, and constant dialogue with their weaving clusters. “Our pieces take time and we want to honour that,” they say. Patience is part of the process. These conversations with weavers have become one of the brand’s strongest pillars. Every garment the brand creates is shown back to the artisans — a simple practice that has led to a profound move. Weavers who once saw Narayanpet solely as sari fabric now approach the designers themselves with new ideas for colours, patterns and variations better suited for contemporary styles.
Over recent years, the brand has seen a wave of enthusiasm among Gen Z and young professionals who see handloom not just as tradition, but as conscious fashion. They resonate with the comfort, aesthetics, and the environmental responsibility woven into each piece. “Today’s audience is far more aware,” the team notes. “They choose handloom for the story, its impact, and then the design.”
For Taram, contributing to a contemporary Telugu fashion identity goes far beyond clothing. It is about nurturing livelihoods, revitalising traditional clusters, and proving that heritage can evolve without losing itself.
While travelling to Srikakulam for research on an unrelated project, Ankitha Veerepalli found herself inside a weaving village — watching the hands, wheels, yarns. That moment sparked Amsa by Ankitha, her label dedicated to Andhra and Telangana’s handloom heritage, especially Ponduru Khadi and Venkatagiri Jamdani. “I just fell in love with the process,” she shares. Her instinct found its medium in Jamdani, a technique known for floating motifs laid into the fabric. The challenge? Jamdani saris can take weeks of labour and cost upwards of INR 60,000, placing them in the ‘rarely worn’ category. For weavers, this meant sporadic livelihood. For young buyers, it remained distant. So instead of weaving saris, she redesigned the loom to produce pret yardage — allowing Jamdani to be daily wear. “The primary idea is to keep the loom alive,” she says. And that, for her, is not poetic idealism, it’s survival. When she met weavers, many were planning to quit. Younger generations saw no future in it; the returns were too low and the hours too long. But Amsa’s approach of combining innovation, stablility and respectful collabs changed them. “Weavers today want to innovate, weave better, and keep growing, keeping the art form alive.”
Respecting Jamdani’s character while modernising it is delicate. Ankitha wants to keep the essence intact but she isn’t orthodox either. In a recent collection, Women in Leisure, she introduced overlays: sheer fabrics paired with Jamdani to create contemporary movement. In another, she upcycled leftover Jamdani fragments into textured, flowy garments. “It was so chic yet preserving,” she says. Her most radical shift, however, is structural. Amsa sometimes weaves the silhouette itself instead of the fabric. If it’s a cropped shirt, the loom is set up to weave that shape. “It’s a reversal of the usual process,” she says.
The main challenge with Khadi is stereotypes: stiff, white, ‘Gandhi-type’ clothing with outdated silhouettes which they counter with Women in Leisure . “Khadi has evolved,” Ankitha insists. “It’s now fine, soft, almost like cashmere.” Yet, younger consumers approach handloom with little context. Amsa’s mission is to bridge that gap — through design that feels wearable to brunch or a party. Colour is central. Amsa’s collections — two major drops a year — are seasonless, timeless and repeatable. Palettes, textures and structures are chosen with year-round wear in mind. “We design for longevity,” she says. There are embroidered caps, jackets, trousers and more. For its upcoming 2026 collection, Ankitha is introducing Mangalagiri. “There’s so much more to explore,” she says, with a smile.
Kritikala is not just a label working with Telugu textiles, but a movement built on livelihood and empowerment. Founded under the non-profit Kriti Social, the brand uses craft to create employment for women in Hyderabad’s slums. This is a rare blend of fashion and impact: thoughtfully designed clothes and accessories that preserve traditional textiles while empowering those who make them. Himani Gupta, who leads the design and craft intervention for the brand, works closely with artisans across villages in Telangana, weaving together the textile heritage into silhouettes that feel practical and wearable. For the label, these textiles anchor the culture. Ikat brings its crisp geometry and bold colour play. Kalamkari’s mythic storytelling adds depth and visual drama. And Mangalagiri, soft and breathable, lends itself to the ease-driven styles the brand champions. Because Kritikala designs clothes like tunics, tops, dresses and simple shirts for men, the design process begins with functionality. “We work on styles that are comfortable and accessible.We want the young professionals of today to see handloom as something they genuinely want to wear,” Himani explains, noting that her daughter rarely connected with traditional garments until they started designing for her generation.
What gives the brand its uniqueness is the way it blends regional weaves with local craft — particularly the Banjara inspired embroidery techniques. Each stitch is a mark of skill and each piece a pathway to income and independence. Bags, laptop sleeves, wallets and home décor items also form a core part of the collection, combining cotton fabrics with Ikat and Kalamkari panels, making products that are functional yet traditionally handcrafted.
Working with these textiles is not without its challenges. One of the biggest, Himani says, is adapting colour palettes and motifs to suit contemporary silhouettes. Kalamkari’s motifs are often large and narrative-driven; Ikat can be boldly geometric. Translating these into a modern design language requires sensitivity and an understanding of the craft. “You have to respect the technique before you experiment with it,” she says. This often means visiting weavers directly, collaborating on new colour combinations, or sourcing yardage that aligns with the brand’s aesthetic goals. But the result has been a niche that feels authentic and relevant.
As sustainable fashion gains momentum, more people are responding to the honesty of the brand’s work. They appreciate the transparency, the cultural rootedness, and the sense of purpose in each piece. And for Himani, that is true triumph: “We’re promoting the state’s textiles, supporting artisans, and creating livelihoods for women — all through clothes and accessories that people actually want to wear.”
For more than a decade, Ganesh Nallari has been known for the way he reimagines Telugu textiles — from his early, ahead of its time, contemporary Ikat experiments to his playful takes on Gadwal and Telia Rumal. But one of his most defining work today isn’t in the loom itself; it’s in the scrap pile. Upcycling, once an occasional design detour, has quietly become the heart of his practice, something that keeps his creativity alive.
“You won’t believe it’s waste when you see the final product,” he says, smiling, and he’s more than just right. His patchwork surfaces mimic an entirely new textile language, one that feels rooted yet completely deconstructed. Every remnant, whether from earlier collections, client leftovers or from studio trimmings is reorganised like mosaic. The result: blouses, bandis, jackets and full garments that carry the memory of multiple textiles at once. “This isn’t just zero waste,” he clarifies. “It’s storytelling.” Each piece becomes a living archive of the designer’s studio — fragments of Ikat, bits of Kalamkari, slivers of Gadwal borders, even stray silks and solids. Telugu textiles often feature prominently, but he intentionally keeps the vocabulary broad. “I don’t restrict myself. The beauty comes from the contrasts,” he says.
The process is painstaking. Sorting, grouping and colour matching are done by intuition, not formula. Textures are layered for dimension, motifs are positioned in unexpected alignments and the final surface is quilted or appliquéd in ways that erase the origin of the scrap but retain its soul — it’s genuinely like rebirth. “When you put together pieces that were never meant to be together,” he says, “You create a textile that didn’t exist before.” While fashion often demands newness, Ganesh finds innovation in what already exists. “Most people throw away the best parts, a border, a motif repeat, a leftover pallu — these are opportunities,” he says.
Telugu handlooms are raw material for reinterpretation. This upcycling lens also reframes his earlier work. His bold Ikat experiments from 2009–10 — concentric motifs, futuristic repeats, boundary-pushing geometry — may have set aesthetic trends. “What we create today becomes tomorrow’s raw material,” he says. “And what we discard today can become tomorrow’s tradition.”
While revisiting weaves like Gadwal or Telia Rumal, he often pairs them with contemporary silhouettes — off-shoulder bodices, straight lines, or relaxed fits — but he insists that cut is only half the conversation. “Modernity doesn’t have to be loud. Sometimes it’s just how you place a motif,” he says. Upcycling becomes a natural extension of his design language. “A little fading is a memory,” he says. “Handlooms are allowed to age.”
Email: isha.p@newindianexpress.com
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