Mayank Bhutra’s Chola collection captures an emotional connection to Tamil culture and pride
He is inspired by all things Erode—the rustic rawness, the playful yet graceful demeanour of its people, their subtlety, and effortless class. All of this finds its way into Mayank Bhutra’s designs. A Rajasthani by birth, he identifies deeply with Tamil culture—Erode’s own—and his textiles and silhouettes reflect that spirit with honesty and pride.
How Tamil heritage shapes the brand’s design philosophy
Fresh off Sri Lanka Fashion Week, the island’s premier fashion event, where Mayank showcased his latest collection, Chola, even as he simultaneously held a month-long pop-up in Chennai. At first glance, his designs appear rustic; look closer and you find a dreamlike refinement, garments that are classic yet earthy, rooted to the land that shaped the brand. The collection feels youthful, meaningful, and rich with stories.
We caught up with the young designer during his Chennai showcase. He spoke about how he came to create his label, the cowboy-meets-couture aesthetic that has become his signature, the challenges faced by today’s weavers, and the story behind Chola, which is a collection built not on motifs but on emotion. For Mayank, Chola is a feeling—strength, independence, rawness, and pride.
You chose the name Erode Clothing. What was the thought behind it?
It was a conscious decision. I was born in Rajasthan but grew up in Erode, and that’s where I feel at home. The name is a wordplay—Erode the place, and ‘erode’ as in the erosion of culture. That subtle ambiguity is something I wanted the brand to carry.
How did growing up in Erode shape the brand’s identity?
Textiles have been a part of my life since childhood. We lived among looms—initially the noise kept me awake, but eventually it became a melody. That sound is the rhythm of life in Erode. Even today, I instinctively touch any fabric to feel its texture and pattern. The brand is essentially an extension of that early exposure.
You studied commerce. Did you ever have formal training in design or textiles?
No, I didn’t. I did one year of B.Com, found it boring, and switched to ACCA so that I didn’t have to attend classes. I came back from Ahmedabad to Erode and started working with my father in 2019. That’s where my real education began.
Your aesthetic—this cowboy-meets-couture rawness—is unexpected. Where did that come from?
It’s very rooted in Erode. Even today, for transporting fabrics, we still use bullock carts—maattu vandi. Many consider these workers the lowest in the hierarchy, but the pride and confidence they carry is inspiring. I never had that confidence growing up; watching them shaped me. The “cowboy” aesthetic in the brand is my homage to that raw, rustic elegance.
How have weavers reacted to seeing their textiles worn by global figures?
They didn’t associate with it much until singer Dhee wore our piece. When she wore it, they said, “Romba nalla poturukanga!” And the kids got excited seeing the jackets and shirts made from Jamakkalam. Earlier, when we asked them to weave flat whites, flat pinks, etc, they questioned it because Jamakkalam is traditionally about stripes. They didn’t know the end product. Once we showed them, they understood why we needed solid colours. Now they’re also understanding quality control. Initially they didn’t like our strictness, but when I showed them a picture of a tiny stain visible under studio lights, they understood why details matter. It’s a two-way education. They teach me; I teach them. It’s like raising each other.
You source your textiles from Erode, but your tailoring happens in Mumbai. How did that collaboration begin?
I tried Chennai and Bangalore—it didn’t work. I tried Coimbatore too. Finally I looked at Delhi and Mumbai. Bombay is known for pattern-making. I used an app called Apna. I posted a requirement and got around 45 leads. The first person I called came immediately. I met him at my uncle’s office. I didn’t even have a tailoring unit then. I trusted him and set one up—and he’s still our master. We got equally lucky with embroiderers—someone in the lift mentioned he did embroidery, and it worked out. My team has built Erode Clothing. I may get the limelight, but everything you see is teamwork.
You’ve spoken about the shrinking number of weavers. What challenges do they face, and how does your brand intervene?
Fair wages and working conditions are basic. Beyond that, design intervention is crucial—and education. There is no need to teach them craft (they’re masters), but we have to teach them entrepreneurship and business mindset. It must be a two-way exchange. If I use their craft, they should be able to use my designs for the public if they want to. We need transparency—where the yarn comes from, dyeing methods, and quality. A lot of people talk about Jamakkalam and market it, but few actually work with weavers at a large scale. Bags and laptop sleeves are not enough anymore. The average age of Jamakkalam weavers is 60. If we don’t act, they’ll disappear in five–six years. Small brands doing 20 bags doesn’t sustain weavers. We need orders of 2,000 pieces to sustain them.
Your Chola collection—what inspired it?
The dynasty was strong; no one could conquer them. For me, Chola is raw and rustic. It’s an emotion, not literal temple silhouettes or motifs. People think Cholas were all gold, but they weren’t—they traded pearls, silk, and indigo. Their navy was the largest in the world. They traded across Burma, China, and Japan. There’s even a story of 1,000 elephants being shipped to Thailand as a warning. So, to me, Chola represents pride.
What were the biggest design challenges in Chola?
Honestly, design wasn’t the challenge. Managing waste was. We generate fabric waste during cutting, so we developed a 3D textile embroidery technique using these scraps. Bringing circularity into the brand is a core challenge. We also introduced new silhouettes—well-structured pieces with detailed embroidery.
The collection has a darker colour palette. Tell us about that.
I gravitate toward rustic tones—maroons, oranges, earthy shades. They remind me of Tamil Nadu, its spices, its soil.
How has Chennai responded to your pop-up?
Exceptionally well. People have been following the brand online but wanted to feel the garments in person. This physical presence has made a big difference.
What sells the most here?
Our power-shoulder tops, structured jackets, and men’s shirts. They’ve been doing very well.
Your designs feel young and fresh, yet timeless. Do you design with an age group in mind?
No. There’s no age group. I design with a feeling—pride, humility, confidence. People in Erode embody that mix of subtlety and classiness. I try to capture that spirit.
You’ve often said the next generation is not returning to the loom. What would you tell them?
I can’t ask them to come back—not unless we can guarantee sustainable earnings. Most weavers make `250–300 a day. Even minimum wage is around `800. Why would they want their children to weave? I wouldn’t. If we can ensure `700–800 a day consistently, they’ll stay. They want to live in their own land, eat their food, and speak their language. But livelihood comes first.
What’s next for Erode Clothing?
We’re planning international and Indian exhibits. Early each year, I spend time studying what worked and what didn’t, refining and perfecting. The brand is evolving, and so are we.
manuvipin@newindianexpress.com
@ManuVipin
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