Words by Vaani Bhala
Field Notes from India
Spend time inside the world’s most carefully designed interiors and a pattern begins to emerge. The spaces that feel most resolved rarely rely on excess or novelty. Instead, they are anchored by materials that hold attention quietly. Hand knotted rugs with softened palettes. Textiles that feel irregular in a way that suggests time and use rather than error. Surfaces that absorb light instead of reflecting it. What is rarely discussed is how often these materials originate in India. Across Europe, North America, and the Middle East, Indian workshops form the backbone of the global luxury interiors industry. Rugs, wall textiles, upholstery fabrics, and embroidered surfaces are frequently woven, dyed, or finished in India, even when the final product is presented as international or studio authored. The aesthetic travels widely. The making remains geographically concentrated. This is not an incidental relationship. It is the result of long standing material knowledge that continues to shape how luxury interiors are conceived and executed.
"Much of what the world now recognises as refined, tactile luxury is rooted in Indian ways of making. "
India’s centrality to global interiors is not a contemporary phenomenon. For centuries, textiles from the subcontinent circulated across continents as trade goods, shaping domestic spaces long before interior design existed as a formal discipline. Cotton from the Coromandel Coast, silks from Bengal, and woven woollen textiles travelled because they performed well. They were durable, breathable, and adaptable to a range of climates and uses. That logic persists today. Many internationally recognised textile and rug studios continue to rely on Indian production because the infrastructure already exists. Regions such as Bhadohi, Panipat, and parts of Rajasthan support dense networks of weavers, dyers, and finishers whose skills have been refined over generations. This ecosystem makes it possible to produce hand knotted rugs, flatweaves, and complex textile surfaces with a level of nuance and consistency that few other regions can offer without industrial compromise. Studios based in London, Paris, Amsterdam, Stockholm, and New York frequently collaborate with Indian workshops to realise their collections and bespoke commissions. Design direction may be global, but the physical act of weaving, dyeing, and finishing remains deeply tied to Indian craft communities.
The tension does not lie in the act of sourcing itself. It lies in what happens to the story once the object leaves the loom.
In luxury interiors, authorship is often attributed to the studio rather than the system of making. A rug woven in India may be described as contemporary or abstract, framed through references that situate it within a European or global design lineage. Yet its structure, palette, and tactile qualities often draw directly from Indian traditions. Faded reds and indigos reflect natural dye practices developed over centuries. Geometric layouts echo regional flatweaves and dhurries. The irregularity now prized as character is the outcome of hand processes refined through repetition and skill.
As these elements are absorbed into global design language, they are frequently renamed. Specific geographies dissolve into moods. Craft becomes texture. The object remains, but its lineage becomes less legible.
This translation allows materials to circulate easily across markets, but it also alters how value is perceived. When Indian craftsmanship is framed as execution rather than intelligence, recognition shifts away from origin. The finished interior is celebrated. The knowledge that enabled it becomes invisible.
This imbalance is particularly evident in the rug industry. Many of the most expensive hand knotted rugs specified for private residences, hotels, and galleries are woven in India using techniques passed down through generations. Hundreds of hours of labour remain embedded in each piece. Yet the final narrative often centres on the designer or studio rather than on the conditions of making.
At the same time, Indian craft logic continues to define what luxury interiors seek. Minimal spaces depend heavily on material performance. With fewer elements competing for attention, surfaces must justify their presence through depth, texture, and longevity. Indian textiles excel here. They absorb sound. They soften architecture. They age without deterioration. Their value unfolds gradually rather than immediately.
As demand for this quality grows, imitation follows. Many interiors now feature textiles that replicate the appearance of Indian craft while bypassing its processes. The surface reads correctly. The substance does not. Over time, this distinction matters. When process disappears from view, labour loses value, and understanding erodes.
Recognising the role of Indian textiles in global luxury interiors is not about assigning fault. It is about restoring proportion. These materials are not peripheral accents. They are structural to how contemporary interiors achieve warmth, restraint, and balance.
Luxury has always claimed to value discernment, but discernment demands awareness. When regional knowledge from across the world is absorbed into global design language, stripped of place, and reissued as universal taste, what exactly is being valued. Why does origin so often dissolve into mood, and craft into texture. How many regional practices from India, Africa, South America, Southeast Asia, and beyond are quietly sustaining contemporary design without being named. At what point does admiration turn into extraction, and when does translation become erasure. These questions sit beneath every celebrated surface today, asking whether global design is truly inclusive, or simply skilled at making cultural specificity disappear.