Should we be celebrating or side-eyeing Prada’s Kolhapuri moment?

Toe-ring sliders? Leather thongs? Handcrafted slippers? Or as Indians have called them for centuries: Kolhapuris. Prada’s Spring 2026 menswear show just gave the humble Kolhapuri chappal its big global moment. Except, no one seemed to know what it actually was. Fashion glossaries listed them as “leather flats,” treating them like a fresh new silhouette rather than the Indian heirlooms they are. It's the turmeric latte treatment all over again—Indian origin, global rebrand, credit misplaced.

Let’s be clear: there’s a world of difference between homage and appropriation, and luxury brands often blur that line with designer precision. In this case, the Kolhapuri has walked straight onto the international runway—minus the story, the roots, and the name. So, we took matters into our own hands to bring them to you.

Hailing from Kolhapur, Maharashtra, these sandals were first worn in the 18th century, their form perfected over generations by master cobblers. Every pair was a product of hours of handcrafting—tanning leather, shaping soles, threading intricate designs, oiling, and embossing.

Kolhapuris were once worn by everyone from street vendors to the Maharaja of Kolhapur in the 1900s. From featherlight 100g rollable versions to the two-kilo senapati styles built like armour for your feet, Kolhapuris miraculously stayed relatively unscathed over centuries' worth of seasonal churns of trends.

So, if Prada’s “new” shoe looks suspiciously familiar, that’s because it is.

In fashion, “inspiration” can often be a polite word for plagiarism. A designer logo stamped onto traditional craft might bring visibility—but does it bring value? And does doubling the price really double the authenticity? Not always. But sometimes, credit is given where it’s due.

Take Dior’s Pre-Fall 2023 show. It rooted itself in Indian heritage. Staged at Mumbai’s Gateway of India, the show honoured the hands behind the craft: the legendary artisans of Chanakya Ateliers. Mirror work, Nehru collars, zardozi embroidery, Madras checks—it was all acknowledged. The clothes told stories. The setting echoed them.

Or like Christian Louboutin, who collaborated with Sabyasachi Mukherjee on a line of shoes and bags that celebrated Indian craft without erasing its essence. Rich, bold, and unmistakably desi, the collection walked the line between homage and hype with grace.

Prada may or may not acknowledge its appropriation, but the real question is: when fashion globalises a craft without telling its story, who gets left behind? In all likelihood, it’s the communities of artisans—many of whom are based in Kolhapur—who have spent generations perfecting this design with little visibility or financial reward. When the narrative skips past them in favour of slick runway rebrands, we’re not just erasing credit—we’re erasing exactly these artisans, their know-how, their place in the global style conversation.

Yes, homegrown labels are reclaiming space and working directly with artisans, innovating without losing the soul of the Kolhapuri. But the conversation needs to widen. While Kolhapuris have always been known for their style and substance, and we certainly don’t need the West’s seal of approval to prove that, a little credit would be nice.

Lead image: Getty Images

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