Worn by Royals, Walked by Icons
The Kolhapuri Sandal and the Quiet Power of Slow Fashion
Elegance, they say, is not about being noticed—it’s about being remembered. And in the quiet corners of global wardrobes, there exists a sandal that has never shouted for attention, but has long lingered in memory: the Kolhapuri chappal. Made by hand in Maharashtra, India, from vegetable-tanned leather and traditional stitching methods, these sandals are less a fashion accessory and more a whisper of cultural legacy. While fashion’s winds shift and swirl with seasonal diktats, Kolhapuris remain rooted—unmoved and unbothered—like the artisans who have shaped them across generations.
Their story begins in royal courts, where noblemen once wore them as symbols of honor and artistry. But it didn’t take long for the Kolhapuri to find its place in everyday India—especially during the country’s freedom movement. In an era when clothing was a declaration of values, these sandals—earthy, handmade, unbranded—carried quiet power. That same power would later grace the feet of Jacqueline Kennedy during her India tour in 1962, worn as easily with silk as with soul. Steve Jobs walked through India’s spiritual corridors in a pair. Mahatma Gandhi owned them, too. In more recent years, their legacy has been styled by Sonam Kapoor on global red carpets, Masaba Gupta in editorial spreads, and most recently, echoed on Prada’s runway in silhouettes unmistakably inspired by their structure.
Yet the Kolhapuri is not a trend returning. It is a constant, unshaken by fashion’s tides. Made without glue, chemicals, or synthetics, and stitched by artisans who inherit not just technique but reverence, each pair is a testament to what slowness looks like in motion. The leather is sun-dried, hand-cut, and stitched over the course of days—often using tools passed down like heirlooms. Dyes come from turmeric, indigo, or myrobalan, and finishes are achieved through polishing methods as old as the craft itself. The chappal is both functional and philosophical. It weathers with grace. It softens with time. And it doesn’t just wear well—it remembers.
P.C. Reuters, Prada's leather footwear at the Milan Fashion Week
In the context of slow luxury, few objects embody this ethos as intimately. While designers today are racing to prove their eco credentials, the Kolhapuri was always circular by design. Its materials are natural, its processes zero-waste. There’s no overproduction—just the quiet rhythm of artisans making what is needed, when it is needed. It resists spectacle. It invites intention. That is the kind of sustainability that doesn’t need to be branded—it’s lived.
Globally, a renewed reverence for craft is emerging. Concept stores in Paris now stock limited-edition Kolhapuris sourced directly from Maharashtra. Designers like Anavila Misra and 11.11 are integrating them into contemporary fashion with dignity, not appropriation. You’ll find them styled with raw linen suits in Tuscany, embroidered kurtas in Mumbai, or minimalist silks in Tokyo. Always understated. Always unmissable.
What makes them endure isn’t nostalgia, but relevance. In a world recalibrating its relationship with consumption, the Kolhapuri becomes a wearable manifesto: that what is handmade, rooted, and honest will always find a place in the future. They aren’t just footwear. They’re a quiet rebellion against disposability. A celebration of the hands that make, the time that’s taken, and the beauty that doesn’t expire.
So the next time your wardrobe asks for meaning, consider the Kolhapuri. It may not glitter. It won’t announce itself. But as you walk—gracefully, consciously, completely—you’ll realize it was never just about style. It was always about soul.
