Dressing up the rebel

Four trendsetters in Indian fashion re-imagine menswear for a cool summer look

In menswear fashion in India, there is almost always a compromise.

The Indian man, designers say, is restrained. Unlike the woman. At fashion weeks, you’d see a man dressed in a dhoti skirt. Outside, it is more about being in a herd. They are afraid of being labelled—‘gay’, ‘goth’, ‘punk’, ‘outlandish’, etcetera.

That’s what makes it challenging for designers. They have to fight the prevalent notions of conformity, attitudes that pertain to perceptions of masculinity. So far, menswear has been in a nascent stage compared to women’s clothing in India. Very few homegrown designers have been able to make a mark internationally, and the Indian market remains hard to crack open. There’s also the rejection of what are tagged as ‘Indian silhouettes’ , such as Aligarhi pajamas, or the dhoti.

In the West, there are men’s fashion weeks, and more freedom to experiment with design. Here, the forces a designer has to battle are cultural and social. Then there’s also the financial aspect. “Why can’t we wear kurta pajamas to offiice? Why can’t we tweak our own silhouettes? I don’t expect Italians to wear an interpretation of the dhoti. It is not part of their culture. A suit is a representation of hierarchy that should be challenged here,” says Arjun Saluja, a Delhi-based designer, who feels that menswear fashion is still vague in India. “There is no identity.” Saluja, who trained at Philadelphia College of Textiles in the US, is among India’s few designers of menswear. In his work, he says he tries to be free. But again, this freedom comes at a cost.

David Abraham, of the label Abraham & Thakore that retails at high-end stores in Tokyo and London, says that once one accepts the strict parameters that govern menswear, the design challenges are rather enjoyable. “Detail and subtlety become primary design features rather than the broad flourishes that womenswear design incorporates,” he says. “Most people use fashion to belong. It is not easy to break the monotony of 300 years of colonisation. Men appropriated Western wear to get jobs in the British era. I think Mahatma Gandhi was rebellious and very fashionable. He took off all that clothing, and owned what was his.”

There aren’t enough male rebels in the country, he says. This makes it quite a task to design menswear for Indians. It is more profitable not to rebel in one’s field of work. Women do better than men at role play. Men have always operated with fragile ideas of fashion here, he feels.

The Van Heusen India Mens Week failed to find sponsors after 2010, and eventually stopped showcasing menswear on the runway. Only a few male models have walked the ramp since, and only for a few designers, displaying just scattered pieces. Like an interlude, or a relief. But never claiming their space.

Rajesh Pratap Singh, one of India’s finest menswear designers who launched his label for men and women in 1997, says India’s menswear scenario is changing rapidly. “It is becoming a much more interesting space. In the past five years, men in India have been breaking a lot of rules. I hope this trend continues, and men are ready to express themselves through their clothes,” he says. “I think men in India have been in deep slumber for a decade. They have been coming out of it, of late. Men should now be ready to let go of cliches.”

There is a craftsmanship in his clothes, which bear his signature style of minimalism, industrial deconstruction and clean cuts. His style draws from his Indian roots but also incorporate international silhouettes. He speaks of a lack of focus in menswear design. Also, of very little financial support.

Saluja, WHO HAS lived in chaotic, liberated and experimental New York City, is among the few designers who work to break down gender barriers in apparel. “We don’t want to explode, or explore any more,” he says, “ I don’t see identity in menswear. There is no role play in menswear.”

Saluja’s dhoti pants were one such attempt. Intriguingly cut, these were presented as a neatly edited version that drew upon several layers of maleness seen in a collection called ‘In between’ that he showcased at the Wills India Lifestyle Fashion Week this spring.

“Men are conservative,” he says, “But you are not thinking ‘gender’ when you are designing. Menswear can go into any realm. It’s a role play with yourself.”

Saluja finds muses everywhere. “I was inspired by Prince and David Bowie. Fashion has nothing to do with sexuality. We are held back by the worry ‘if I look like this …’ There should be a deconstruction. Go out there and play with colours, shapes, and drapes. Play with the length of the suit, the shape. Not everything needs to be outlandish,” he says. “While we don’t have certain cultures like hip- hop in India, there is so much inspiration on the street.” His own work is modern and traditional, with an understated design aesthetic marked by an ownership of what’s Indian.

While they say that the menswear market is expanding in India as people become more fashion-conscious, with individuality being emphasised, Saluja is not very optimistic.

Again, it has to do with rebellion. Women crossed that barrier much earlier, Abraham says.

“Like everything else, we have compromised too soon and too easily. Maybe in the past, it was a question of survival and a desperate need to blend in. But I think the Indian man is gradually gaining in self confidence, and therefore, the wardrobe will shift adequately to reflect this,” Abraham adds.

At least, that’s the hope. Both Saluja and Abraham design for men and women. But the issue of lack of identity in Indian menswear is a complex one. It starts early. In the fashion curriculum.

Fashion design schools usually train designers to work with the female form, with the result that only a few designers venture into menswear. There are too many battles to fight.

Out in those glass structures that line the wide roads of Gurgaon, or at Nariman Point, you’ll spot an army of clones. Heavily corporatised fashion with suits fashioned by European trends. With economic liberalisation, India has witnessed countless high-end fashion labels setting up stores in swanky malls in big cities. But many Indian designers feel yuppies have failed to take ownership of what’s India’s own, preferring to borrow their sense of fashion from the West.

“Work wear, this so-called corporate dressing, is still not very developed in India. Given our climate and work environment, we need to give it an indigenous twist. Does the corporate environment mean everybody has to wear grey suits?” asks Singh, who regularly showcases his work on Paris ramps.

European cuts don’t always suit Indian body frames, say designers. This makes for an awkward look.

“There is no retail market here. It is an unorganised sector, and there are no stores. There’s not even one that stocks indigenous Westernwear designers. It is changing but not at the pace it should. When clothes are made by hand, they have character and a story,” says Shani Himanshu of the label 11.11 by CellDSGN, which uses a lot of natural fabrics and handwoven textiles to make urban cool clothing.

“Others have taken inspiration from the streets in their countries, like Turkey. We have such a range of silhouettes in our backyard, like the Aligarhi pajama. We can tweak them,” says Saluja, an advocate of desi officewear. “We as a society are not relaxed. Once we let go of the restraint, the menswear fashion scene in India will become far more interesting. There is not much of a market, as of now. That holds us back.”

There is also the dynamics of pressure, of trying to be what we are not. “We are us and they are them,” says Pratap, “In the end, we need to just define our fashion languages without being dictated to by popular pressure.”

For instance, Saluja says, Indian men don’t understand their bodies. If there is a belly, they need to wear a different kind of suit. But that needs to be understood, and more silhouettes need to be explored. “It is this idea that menswear shouldn’t be Indian. This means the dhoti was out.”

The sari, on the other hand, is making a comeback in many ways. Designers have found new ways for women to drape six yards—often less—of cloth.

There’s also the issue of fabric. That’s where one of the main challenges lies. Labels like 11:11, Rishta by Arjun Saluja, A&T, and Rajesh Pratap use handwoven textiles and weaves from India. In their opinion, these are ‘breathable’ fabrics that are in harmony with the climate.

“Break the barriers. Revolt. A beautiful handwoven khadi suit can be a white collar garment. Why would you stuff yourself in polyester? Khadi is no longer a poor man’s fabric,” Himanshu says.

Abraham & Thakore’s work has been exhibited at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London, in a British Council exhibition on contemporary Indian design, at the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts in New Delhi, and in a Volkart Foundation sponsored exhibition on this homespun fabric. But they find it hard to make a convincing pitch to the Indian male for khadiwear and other fabrics of Indian heritage.

The 11.11 label’s khadi denims are being touted as a breakthrough. But they are doing better abroad than here. In India, the market is crippled by misplaced fears of what others think, not to mention Western lifestyle aspirations. “We have projected the idea of swadeshi and swaraj,” says Himanshu.

The 11.11 team of young designers trained abroad are returning to their roots for inspiration. Mia Morikawa and Shani Himanshu say they are trying to dissolve the distinction between daywear and evening wear—creating a look that’s never over or underdressed in any particular situation. “Borrowing from textile traditions, we recontextualise fabrics and silhouettes in ways we feel comfortable,” says Morikawa, “If we can produce the garments we want to see in the market, made in a way we believe in, surely others are looking for something similar. We created our menswear line with sensitivity to our environment and circumstances.”

Should we then push for what’s India’s own—say, khadi?

“Absolutely,” says Himanshu, “ This is where the challenge for the Indian fashion Industry lies, we need to go back to our roots and redefine them in a contemporary context. You can definitely wear that bandhgala to your office.”

Nevertheless, Pratap says it is difficult to showcase such work in India. “Probably because menswear doesn’t get enough attention from the media,” he guesses, “For us, it is an important and a serious section. We showcase menswear wherever possible.” His label has an appreciative clientele: “Very interesting and intelligent men who have been around, know their mind, and who have been discerning about their wardrobe for better or for worse,” in his description.

Among the challenges, says designers, is the lack of backup. No men’s fashion week is held in India anymore. That the menswear market, dominated by traditional attire like sherwanis, remains far behind the women’s wear market is often dismissed with a shrug.

Old notions are hard to break. Masculinity may be a social and cultural imposition, but it is also a state of mind.

There’s also the question of profitability that complicates the creative effort. Menswear, to many, is just not worth the investment. Yet, designers such as Raghavendra Rathore, Ashish Soni, Troy Costa, Rajiv Mohan, Suket Dhir and Manoviraj Khosla continue to do interesting work in this nascent market.

The hope is that attitudes will change as the market evolves. There’s a risk they will not, but no rebellion is without its share of fears. No matter. As any, indeed all, of them would say: “It was appropriate to do, and in our heads, the right thing to do, so we did it.”

About The Author

Chinki Sinha