She didn’t just wear a kaftan—she wore a memory. The hue, reminiscent of the rich flesh of jamun at peak ripeness, called to mind monsoon afternoons under shady trees, when the fruit would stain fingers with secrets. This colour—deep, lush, and quietly intoxicating—feels like something borrowed from a forest in bloom, or the first sip of spiced mulberry syrup cooled in an earthen pot.
The motifs that sprawl across its flowing form are no accident. They seem conjured, as if a forgotten royal artist woke in a dream and began to paint the walls of a vanished palace. Rosebud vines climb slowly like chants from a temple courtyard. Elephant processions curve around the hem, not in straight lines, but as if dancing through a festival of yesteryears. Peacocks perch like guardians on throne-like arches, while coral-tinted domes rise gently across the fabric’s frame—suggesting the domed pavilions of a queen’s summer garden, seen at dusk through jharokhas.
There’s something of Draupadi’s divine vastra in its spirit—a garment that never ends, never fades, always shifting with the story it’s trying to tell. As the wearer moves, it feels as though the cloth is reciting the lore of another time. Imagine a rare textile, preserved in a royal museum, once draped across a sunlit veranda in a palace that now only exists in history. That’s what this kaftan evokes—not just fashion, but fable.
You don’t just wear it. You inherit it.
your queries are best answered through WhatsApp
We post our products first to our privè broadcast list on WhatsApp. The inside circle gets preview to our exclusive collection with prices. MESSAGE US TO BE ADDED
#kaftan
No comments:
Post a Comment