Cottedge

This article is part of a 10 part journal from my recent sourcing trips to India, where I share what I am learning about textiles, craft, and behind the scenes of building a small clothing brand.

One of the lessons I have learned while building Cottedge is how different the timeline of handmade textiles is compared to modern fashion production. People may be familiar with handloom or handwoven textiles, but fewer realize how many steps and how much time are involved before that fabric ever becomes a garment.

When I first began sourcing fabrics for sampling, the process felt relatively simple. I only needed small quantities to test silhouettes, experiment with patterns, and understand how different textiles behaved once they were cut and sewn. Small lengths of fabric were often available from existing stock, which made it easier to explore ideas and develop samples.

But once sampling was complete and I began planning production, I encountered a reality I had not fully anticipated. Fabrics are not always readily available in the colors and patterns needed, and producing them takes time. Seeing this process firsthand during my sourcing trips in India has completely changed how I think about fabric production.

With handloom textiles, the process is slow and hands on. Yarn is often handspun from cotton, naturally dyed, and then woven by hand on a loom to create fabric. Each meter of cloth is produced slowly, requiring multiple steps, skill, and patience. Handloom weaving happens at the pace of the artisan.

There are also many factors that influence the timeline of handmade fabrics. Festivals and holidays in India can pause work for several days or weeks. Family obligations are an important part of life, and weather conditions can have a big impact. For a small business like mine, this creates a balancing act. Custom weaving orders often require minimum quantities to make production viable. For a small independent brand, committing to those quantities can sometimes be difficult. Even when the minimums are manageable, the timelines for weaving and finishing the fabric can stretch over several months.

Because of this, one approach I often take when building a collection is to source limited quantities of multiple fabrics rather than relying on a single textile design for an entire run. This allows production to move forward while still working with handwoven materials, but it also means the collection naturally includes more variation in patterns and textures. My goal is always to design pieces that can be mixed and matched and styled together, even when the fabrics themselves are different. Sometimes the collection comes together exactly as planned, and sometimes it evolves in unexpected ways. That unpredictability is simply part of working with handmade materials.

This experience has taught me to plan further ahead and respect the slower rhythm of craft. When working with handwoven fabrics, we are ultimately working with people, not machines. Every step, from spinning yarn to dyeing and weaving, depends on human hands and human schedules. That reality brings both unpredictability and incredible value. The process may not always move as efficiently as modern manufacturing, but the result carries something machines cannot replicate: skill, care, and generations of craft knowledge.

Handwoven fabrics carry a kind of subtle luxury that is not always easy to translate online. The texture of the weave, the breathability of the cotton, and the slight variations created by hand weaving all contribute to a fabric that feels alive in a way mass produced textiles rarely do. Often the real beauty of handwoven fabric becomes clear only when you touch it and feel it. The softness, the gentle irregularities, and the depth of the weave are small details, but they are what make handmade textiles so special.

And perhaps that is the real beauty of handwoven fabric. It asks us to slow down and appreciate the time, skill, and human effort woven into every meter of cloth.

Part 7 of a 10 part journal. You can explore the other entries in the series here.

One of my favorite parts of traveling is the thrill of discovering unique pieces, whether it is clothing, jewelry, or art.

During my recent sourcing trip to Jaipur, I explored antique stores filled with vintage art, textiles, and one of a kind finds that continue to inspire me.

I had the chance to visit Indian Art House, an antique store that truly felt like a treasure trove. The space was filled with framed vintage art, interesting old door knobs and handles, textiles, and countless other objects that made me want to take my time and look closer.

I spent over an hour browsing, slowly taking everything in, and brought home a few pieces that felt special. But beyond the objects themselves, what I enjoyed most was the energy of the place. There was a steady hum of conversation, and I found myself chatting with tourists visiting from the UK, local visitors accompanying tourists, and collectors. It felt like we were sharing a small adventure together.

At one point, I stepped outside with a warm cup of tea graciously offered by the friendly owners and soaked in the winter sun. It was one of those simple, perfect travel moments.

One of my favorite finds was a fish shaped padlock and key. I had just seen a similar one days earlier at the Living and Learning Design Centre in Kutch and was instantly drawn to it. When I spotted it again in Jaipur, it felt almost serendipitous. I knew immediately I wanted to bring it home. I am also curious about the history or significance of fish shaped locks in India, if there is any deeper meaning behind them. I have not yet had a chance to research it, but that question makes the piece even more interesting to me.

I also visited Royale Treasure, another antique store with beautiful vintage frames, furniture, and sculptures. I only had about fifteen minutes before it closed, so I could not browse at my usual pace, but even that short visit was inspiring.

For me, sourcing trips are not only about textiles and production. They are also about absorbing visual culture, meeting new people, and discovering and collecting pieces that spark something deeper.

Cottedge began with the fabrics of my childhood and my desire to share them.

Growing up in India in the 80s and 90s, there were very limited tasteful ready to wear options. If I wanted something beautiful, I had to choose fabric and go to a tailor. My mom and I would select textiles, talk through sleeve lengths and necklines, and wait days or weeks for the finished piece. Clothing felt personal because it was customized. It was not disposable.

I grew up wearing a lot of block printed cotton. Block printing is a traditional technique where repeated motifs are hand stamped onto fabric using hand carved wooden blocks. One of my favorites was block printed Kota Doria fabric. Kota Doria comes from the town of Kota in Rajasthan and is famous for its delicate checkered pattern, translucent texture, and breathability. I often took my mom’s old Kota sarees and turned them into kurtas, simple tunic tops that felt easy and beautiful.

Chikankari embroidery is another strong memory. It involves delicate and intricate hand embroidery using white thread on a variety of lightweight fabrics such as cotton, muslin, silk, or organza. It is one of the most famous and exquisite forms of thread work practiced in India, passed down through generations of artisans in Lucknow and other regions of India. When my mom visited family in Lucknow, she brought back Chikan kurtas and tops. In the 90s, before online shopping, these pieces were not easy to find, and they felt special. 

When I started Cottedge, I naturally returned to these textiles: block printed cotton, Kota Doria, and Chikankari. I began with simple silhouettes inspired by what I had worn for years. I did not overthink it and started with what felt familiar.

As the brand grew, I discovered other handloom textiles that expanded my perspective. One of my favorites is Kala cotton from Kutch. Kala cotton is an indigenous, rain fed cotton variety that has been grown in the region for generations. It remains a pure native strain and is not genetically modified. It thrives in arid conditions with very little rainfall, making it naturally drought resistant and highly water efficient. Beyond its environmental benefits, I love its nubby texture and the way the fabric feels.

Around the same time, I began working with vintage Kantha quilts made from layers of old saris stitched together over the years. I see the history in them, the fading, the fraying, the small hand repairs. Turning these quilts into jackets, pants, and skirts has become one of my favorite parts of this journey. Each one is different, so every piece is truly one of a kind.

Moving forward, I would like to continue working with Kala cotton, other handwoven fabrics, and vintage textiles. I am always exploring textiles that feel thoughtful and distinctive, but the classic block prints and childhood favorites are here to stay. 

In a world driven by fast fashion and instant gratification, working with handloom textiles and small batches slows me down. It makes me respect the fabric, honor the artisans, and design around what already exists instead of rushing to produce something new.

At the end of the day, I simply love textiles. Through Cottedge, I love sharing the textiles I grew up with and the craft techniques behind them. I really enjoy turning them into easy, wearable pieces that people can live in and make their own.