Once the preserve of paan-stained alleys, Lidcap counters and roadside tarpaulin emporiums, the humble Kolhapuri chappal has now arrived, clad in privilege and priced like a latest 150cc bike, at the glittering runways of Milan. And no, not as a tribute. Prada simply ‘discovered’ it, rebranded it, and, for good measure, forgot to mention where it came from. Even footwear suffers from colonial amnesia now.
Yes, the same flat leather sandal with toe-loop precision that your uncle wears with his carefully ironed kurta-pyjama while buying bhindi from the subziwala has now been ‘elevated’ to haute couture. At a cool ₹1.16 lakh, you too can experience rural comfort on an EMI plan.
A style once worn, with beards and pride
As someone who once wore Kolhapuris with jeans, a khadi kurta, a jhola, and a tragically sincere beard, I feel personally invested in this transformation. Back in the late ’80s and early ’90s, it wasn’t just a look – it was a lifestyle. You weren’t truly woken (or broke) unless you had calloused toes and a cotton bag stuffed with Jeffrey Archer, Arthur Hailey, Alistair MacLean, or John Osborne, plus a news weekly – and of course, a tiffin box.
I even took this aesthetic to Qatar. While the newsroom there insisted on ties and formal shoes (with subtle deodorant overtones), I gave the Kolhapuri-and-jhola combo its brief Gulf moment on weekends. A Filipino colleague once immortalised me in a caricature – complete with wild beard, jhola, and chappals that looked like they had walked to Doha on their own.
Milan takes credit, India takes offence
Now, thanks to Prada’s intervention, our rugged, time-hardened chappal is expected to sit pretty behind bulletproof glass, guarded by men in suits with earpieces. I can already hear the Punjabi wedding negotiations. Picture a bride’s brother demanding Rs 2 lakh to return the groom’s Pradas during the traditional joota chupai, while the DJ belts out ‘Paise do, jhoote lo’ – feat. Badshah and AI-generated Lata Mangeshkar.
Of course, this isn’t Prada’s first holy dip in the Ganga of Indian design. A Japanese designer recently ‘reinvented’ the jhola – that cotton sling bag beloved of budget-conscious intellectuals and part-time poets. Add it to the list of gentrified gear: Nehru jackets, kurta-pyjamas, dupattas, and now, chappals – once mocked, now monetised.
Desi design protection squad, anyone?
Maybe it is time we launched a Desi Design Protection Squad. The mission? To patrol international runways and call out every suspicious kurta, anonymous dupatta, or $900 jhola with tassels. Offenders will be sentenced to three months of walking around Connaught Place in the monsoon, in real Kolhapuris.
Meanwhile, the original artisans in Kolhapur, who make these shoes from pure leather, vegetable dyes, and sheer grit, still sell them for Rs500–Rs1,500 a pair. But will they ever see a Prada royalty cheque? Or at least a thank-you note? Highly unlikely.
Jhola wala syndrome
But hey, maybe we should take this as a backhanded compliment. Dust off those chappals at the back of your shoe rack, pair them with your softest kurta, sling on that loyal old jhola, and step out. Fashion has finally caught up with what you wore to your sociology viva in 1992.
Just don’t forget – if you are planning to wear your Kolhapuris to your wedding now, you might want to carry a digital payment app. The bride’s cousins could demand a ransom, GST included, to return your chappals. And this time, they will want Prada authentication with it.
