Collaborative, Not Colonial: Rethinking Indian Streetwear from the Gully Up

Let us be brutally honest.

A lot of what passes for “Indian streetwear” today is performative at best, exploitative at worst. A Sanskrit word slapped onto a Western hoodie. A goddess print reimagined as ironic pop art. A drop that could belong anywhere—but claims to be original.

We are not building culture.
We are borrowing, remixing, extracting—and then calling it “inspired.”

What we are really dealing with is a colonial hangover in design.

Global aesthetics still dominate. Local craft gets reduced to texture.
Our cultural symbols become moodboards for collections that never return to their roots.

This isn’t celebration.
It is aesthetic colonisation in a new package.
And it is time we say something.

What Collaborative, Not Colonial Really Means

This is not about gatekeeping.
This is about ground-keeping.

It is about rethinking how we create. Who gets credited. What gets represented. And most importantly—why we make what we make.

Here is what true Indian streetwear could—and should—stand for:

1. Designed by Locals. Not Tourists.

Real streetwear is lived, not Googled.

It is not made by someone who flies in for a “cultural” shoot and flies out with a collection. It is designed by people who:

• Walk these streets.
• Speak this slang.
• Know what a lungi means—not just how it drapes.
• Understand that a gamcha is more than an accessory—it is protest, protection, identity.

This is design born from memory, not moodboards.
From lived realities, not Pinterest pins.

2. Made by Karigars. Not Just Used by Them.

The foundation of Indian fashion has always been its artisans.
But we have treated karigars as tools—not collaborators.

If your hoodie uses handwork, then the hand behind it deserves credit.

• Give name credits to your dyers, weavers, printers, embroiders.
• Pay them like professionals—not labor.
• Don’t just “preserve techniques”—evolve them with permission.

Imagine a streetwear collab where a kantha artisan from Bengal is the headline name.
That is not just heritage. That is high fashion.

3. Shot in Real Streets. Not Fake Poverty-Chic Sets.

Enough with staged “urban grunge” shoots that exoticise our chaos.

Let us shoot in the real gullies:

• Behind the chai tapri.
• On rooftop terraces with drying clothes.
• In auto rickshaw stands and railway platforms.
• At protest marches and poetry slams.

Streetwear shouldn’t imitate our streets.
It should emerge from them.

4. Styled by Real Crews. Not Just the Cool Clique.

Indian fashion is more than Delhi and Bombay.

There is drip in Dimapur.
Heat in Hyderabad.
Swag in Surat.
Voice in Varanasi.

Your stylists could be some seamstress from Tirupur. .
Your models could be spoken word artists.
Your creative director could be a dancer from Cochin.

Because this isn’t just about aesthetics.
It is about access.

When the people who live the culture become part of the process, fashion moves from representation to participation.

From Consuming Global Trends → To Creating Global Dialogue

Let us stop asking,
"How can we be the Supreme of India?"
and start asking,
"What can India create its own version of global streetwear?"

Because here is what we bring to the table:

• Craftsmanship the world travels for.
• Diversity no fashion week can replicate.
• Stories that are older, rawer, deeper—and still unfolding.

When we stop imitating the West, we stop being followers.
We become hosts.

Call to Action: The Collaborative Streetwear Manifesto

It is time to sketch a new playbook.
Here is a draft of what it might sound like:

• We don’t design for India. We design with India.
• We credit the hands that touch our fabric.
• We shoot where the people are—not just where the lights are.
• We build communities, not just customer bases.
• We treat culture like memory, not mood.
• We stop selling rebellion—and start sharing roots.

This isn’t about getting it perfect.
It is about getting it honest.

Final Word

True Indian streetwear doesn’t look like a hoodie with a bindi.
It looks like memory. Like movement. Like the street speaking back.

It doesn’t chase cool.
It defines it.

And when it is collaborative, not colonial—
It doesn’t just make merch.

It makes history.