How this traditional Indian ornament became 2025's IT accessory

In the labyrinthine corridors of high fashion, where trends are excavated from forgotten decades and polished into phenomena on international runways, the anklet has emerged as 2025's most unlikely protagonist. For centuries, anklets adorned the feet of temple dancers, marked marital status across Indian households, and whispered stories of devotion and desire. They survived colonial dismissal, weathered decades of Western fashion's indifference, and quietly persisted in the jewellery boxes of grandmothers who understood their power long before Milan took notice.

Now, as fashion houses from Sabyasachi to JW Anderson adorn their models' ankles in precious metals and gems, and every certified it girl—from Kylie Jenner to Bella Hadid, lacing their looks with anklets and stacked chains, this low-slung ornament has officially slipped into high fashion’s line of sight. But the anklet’s resurgence isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about memory, meaning, and reclaiming a style that was once silenced.

A language older than fashion: rituals, power, and the politics of ankles

Across the Indian subcontinent, anklets were known by names that carried the weight of heritage: payal, pattilu, jhanjar, nupur. In ancient Egypt, anklets marked social stature; in Tamil epics, they became instruments of fury and justice, as in Silappatikaram (literally, The Tale of an Anklet), Kannagi’s anklet exposed royal injustice. In Odisha, the paunji nupur was so heavy that it echoed with each step, sculpting reverence into the earth.

For Indian households, a baby’s first anklet was a rite of passage. For brides, it signified their transition into womanhood; for devadasis, it was an extension of divine performance. Yet the ornament wasn't purely ceremonial. Material and context mattered: gold was reserved for the upper castes and for sacred spaces, silver for others, encoding hierarchy into ornamentation. In some regions, anklets were even tethered with chains to restrict women’s mobility.

Yet despite it all, anklets were deeply loved. “Jewellery wasn’t just fashion—it was a way of life,” says designer Anu Merton. “Anklets were worn daily by women, men, and children alike. It was part and parcel of how we dressed and expressed ourselves.”

Colonial erasure and the silencing of style

Ornamentation in India once served as a visual language, rooted in ritual, community, and self-expression. That expression, however, was muted and sometimes violently so. Colonial rule not only erased indigenous rule; it scrubbed out indigenous aesthetics too. Under the British Raj, the Indian variations of the anklet and several other pieces were recast as “exotic,” unfitting for the modern, civilised subject. The louder and more visible the adornment, the more primitive it was deemed.

Post-independence, that aesthetic judgment lingered. Bollywood romanticised anklets into soundtracks of seduction, reducing their depth to a flirtatious jingle. As Western trends entered Indian wardrobes, the anklet was increasingly seen as too ethnic, too rural, and too loud, ultimately flattened into a relic rather than a living tradition.

“We moved so far towards Western aesthetics that for a long time, mainstream jewellery didn’t even look Indian anymore,” says Anu Merton. “It could’ve been from anywhere. Our jewellery lost its Indianness. But now there’s this rising awareness that what we wore wasn’t just beautiful, it was powerful.”

That desire to reconnect with pieces that feel rooted and real is something Tarang Arora, CEO and Creative Director of Amrapali, has also observed. “For a long time, handcrafted, heritage-rooted pieces were overlooked in favour of minimal, Western aesthetics. But now, people want meaning. They want pieces that feel intimate, expressive, and culturally grounded.”

The anklet’s comeback: runways, icons, and reinvention

Eventually, though, the anklet made its way back into the public consciousness, this time on international runways. It first shimmered in Chanel’s Spring 2017 ready-to-wear show, when the house sent models down the runway in metallic chain anklets paired with pastel tweeds. Fast forward to today, and red carpets are keeping the momentum going. Bella Hadid wore hers at the 2022 Met Gala, pairing pearl anklets with a sultry Burberry corset gown by Riccardo Tisci laced leather, tulle gloves, and all. This year, Sabrina Carpenter’s 2025 Met Gala look—a custom Louis Vuitton burgundy pin-striped tailcoat and bodysuit designed by Pharrell Williams—was grounded with a barely-there anklet peeking through, adding softness to her sharp silhouette.

On the runway, houses like Paco Rabanne, Miu Miu, and Blumarine have embraced the ankle accessory, proving this isn’t a fleeting flirtation. The anklet is in its power era, and it’s dressing accordingly.

Closer to home, Indian labels are grounding this revival in craftsmanship. “Anklets have always coasted on nostalgic appeal,” says Maheep Kapoor of Tyaani Jewellery by Karan Johar. “But today, customisation is key—tiny bells or charms take on deeper meaning, becoming symbols of the wearer’s individuality, whole and soul.”

That personal touch is evolving into playful metamorphosis. “We’re experimenting with dual-wear pieces—anklets that transform into bracelets or hand harnesses,” shares Tarang Arora of Amrapali. “The idea is to honour tradition while pushing design forward.” The result? Anklets that aren’t just stylish, they’re shape-shifting, genre-defying, and stunningly personal.

Who owns the anklet now?

Anklets today are no longer caste-marked or gender-policed. They’re being embraced by a generation that sees beauty as boundaryless, styling the anklet as a symbol of self-definition. It’s less about how it’s meant to be worn and more about how you choose to wear it.

“Layering is a big trend,” Kapoor points out. “Mixing beaded strands with delicate chains creates visual depth and endless self-expression. Even bridalwear is transforming. Payals are no longer relegated to the wedding day. “From regal polki to intricate meenakari and kundan, brides are embracing foot jewellery not just for the mehendi, but for outfits they’ll wear beyond the altar,” she says.

As the trend travels from lookbooks of Western luxury houses to capsule collections by emerging designers, it invites a necessary question: Are we witnessing homage or appropriation? Is the craft being credited, or just consumed? The fashion world is, slowly but surely, responding with care. Brands like Outhouse and Amama are working closely with artisans to ensure cultural heritage isn’t just spotlighted, but sustained. Designers from the African diaspora are reinterpreting beaded anklets traditionally worn by Zulu or Maasai women, turning them into symbols of duality—honouring the past while designing for a future where who wears it matters less than how and why.

From sacred heirlooms to red-carpet statements, the anklet has danced across centuries, shedding and reclaiming meaning with every step. What was once bound by tradition, geography, and gaze is now fluid, reimagined by stylists, brides, designers, and wearers who see no reason to choose between legacy and reinvention. 

 

Images: Getty 

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