On Saris, History & Accessibility: How to Embrace Modernity Without Dishonoring Tradition

Saris, sometimes also spelled sarees, are garments that have existed and evolved throughout the long and storied history of South Asian culture and civilization. If we go back to the beginning, the word "sari" derives from Sanskrit and means "a strip of cloth." As Advaya’s K.H. Radharaman told the New York Times, the garment is believed to trace back to the Indus Valley civilization, which, per Britannica, existed from around 2500 to 1700 BCE. Now, in modern times, saris are worn regularly throughout South Asia, in India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Nepal, Sri Lanka, and beyond. Saris, as a garment, can be utilized as a means of following the path of the inherited and generational textile culture of the region.

The beauty of the sari as a garment lies partly in its versatility as a completely unstitched garment. While the length of the fabric itself can vary, the average sari measures up to about 5.5 meters or six yards. With this single piece of unstitched, untailored fabric, the possibilities for wear are numerous. "I look at them as a 5.5-meter long canvas that I can use to create a piece of art that tells a story," sari designer Ayush Kejriwal tells Teen Vogue. “Saris don't discriminate; irrespective of your body shape or size, the size of the saree always remains the same.”

For Kejriwal, a sari is a "wearable piece of art." His designs are a product of collaboration with weavers and skilled artisans all over India, bringing a textile that is handcrafted to those who seek heirloom garments – from the intricately woven cotton Jamdani sarees of Bengal to the lustrous sheen of Kanjeevaram silk saris of Tamil Nadu. 

As one of the largest remaining handicraft countries in the world, in India alone, sari styles vary drastically from one state to another – from fabrics to dyes to draping. As explored in the book Saris: Tradition and Beyond by textile historian Rta Kapur Chishti, the southwestern state of Kerala offers a restraint through predominantly white saris and elegant drapes, while further north in Gujarat, the colorful tie-dyes of the traditional bandhani dyeing technique makes up a majority of saris. In the eastern Indian state of Jharkhand, coarse cotton saris make up a majority of the garments worn by the region's tribal communities like the Munda, Oraon, Paharia, and Santhal groups.

With over one hundred methods of draping commonly used throughout India, the story of a sari — what it's made of, how it's worn — directly reflects the story of the person wearing it. Regional distinctions have continued to evolve with the culture. As historical norms of modesty shift, so does the sari. The positioning of the pallu, the loose end of a sari, went from covering one's head to being worn over the shoulder, either decoratively pinned back with pleats or flowing loosely over the arm. Traditional blouse lengths have changed and sometimes are even replaced with pieces dictated by the trends of the times: a t-shirt, a crop top, or an embellished triangle top resembling a bikini.

Over time, largely attributed to the impact of globalization and capitalism's demands for convenience, competition, and productivity over craftsmanship and historical memory, the sari's position in the big picture of South Asian style and fashion has seen a massive shift. Families of handloom artists who have been creating for generations are beginning to find themselves out of work as their craft becomes endangered while trends of "pre-stitched" saris take over. From Bollywood stars to everyday party looks, brands are boasting the ease of garments that don't require any draping at all. 

What exactly is a pre-stitched sari? Popular online retailer of South Asian fashion Utsav Fashion describes it as the following: "In essence, a pre-stitched sari is a skirt with pleats at the center. It can be worn without the fuss of tucking, pleating, or adjusting. In fact, this easy-to-wear saree even does away with the bother of draping." Pre-stitched saree brand One Minute Saree calls it “all the elegance of a saree, without the hassles.”

As an appreciator and collector of saris, these trends always raise a few questions. What do we lose in the story of a sari when it comes to us stitched and pre-draped? How do we shift the perception of the sari as a rigid, ornamental item rather than the stylistically fluid piece it actually is? How do we preserve the integrity of a garment and the people who create it while attempting to modernize it and make it accessible for as many wearers as possible? 

Designer Kejriwal had similar concerns with the sari in today's fashion context. "I think the way the sari is represented in the mainstream media needs to be changed," he says. "Wearing a sari is not a novelty." 

My first time wearing a sari was a big deal. I was 19 years old, in university, and really wanted to make a statement at a family friend's wedding reception. Wearing a sari, something I had always perceived as the ultimate marker of elegance and style, was the exact move to say what I wanted to say – "I'm a woman now, all grown up, look how gracefully I can carry myself in this swishy fabric." Back then, I didn't have any saris of my own yet, so I raided my mom's closet and chose a mint green piece embroidered with gold and silver leaf patterns. I stood in my mom's bedroom as she draped the sari around my clueless, teenaged limbs (using what I now can identify as the nivi drape, the most widely recognized style worn throughout the world), employing safety pins to secure each pleat and making sure to give me a lesson on how to walk properly while wearing it, so I didn't look lost in my own outfit. My dad joined in on the drama of the moment, doing a photoshoot in our living room before the party, and I felt pretty and confident wrapped in chiffon. 

A few years later, I acquired my first sari as an heirloom. A voile cotton piece inherited from my maternal grandmother when she passed away, each of her granddaughters having chosen pieces from the collection she had curated over her 80 years of life. It is bright pink, printed with a pattern of roses, and I wear it like a hug from the grandmother that I never actually got to know. My collection has since grown, and over the years, with the help of mothers, aunts, friends, and YouTube videos, I have perfected the nivi drape. Nearly a decade after that first night wearing one, I now wear saris whenever an occasion even remotely calls for it. 

The larger question of a sari's accessibility is being tackled by people across the world. The Sari Series, a digital anthology created Border&Fall, a strategic agency working across India's craft and fashion communities, is one example of this work being done. 

The series was created with two main objectives: “to create an accessible and comprehensive cultural documentation of India’s sari drapes” and “to address a needed perception shift of the garment.”.With a series of 89 short videos at the time of writing demonstrating a different draping style, The Sari Series addresses the misconceived notion that the plethora of sari drapes we have available to us aren't relevant to our rapidly changing culture or that they can't be worn with ease and comfort. 

The challenge of the sari's perception can be seen on the everyday level as well, with users on TikTok challenging themselves to drape a sari in under one minute. "In the same amount of time that you're gonna go into your closet and find your favorite pair of jeans, I will already have taken this six yards of fabric and thrown it over my shoulders," says creator @just.jully in a video underlining the ease of getting ready in a sari compared to Western wear.

As generational shifts occur and diasporic communities examine ways to incorporate style trends of their parents and grandparents into their own closets, the ways the sari is perceived shift along with them. Regardless of the mainstream perception of a sari's purpose, the six yards of fabric that make up the garment have come to hold icon status, weaving their way across time and place, carrying with them the history of all those who have worn them. 

Want more like this from Teen Vogue? Check these stories out:

• Loving K-Pop Reminds Me of the Bollywood Films I Grew Up With
• This Term Explains Persistent Stereotypes of Asian Cultures