In Kerala, where the monsoon-soaked earth meets swaying palms and timeless rituals, the loom still sings. From the gold-bordered Kasavu sari of the south to the patterned jacquards of the north, the story of Kerala’s weaving communities is a tale of artistry, resilience, and deep cultural identity. It is also where we go to source some of our most popular fabrics for our lampshades.
Earlier this year I returned to Kannur, in Northern Kerala, in search of some of the weaving communities that still hold on, by a thread (excuse the pun!) in the face of the power loom and so many other threats, to find some more of these beautiful saris as they really do make the most stunning lampshades. I am also really keen to try and help sustain this tradition by finding an outlet for this woven cotton apart from the usual domestic market. This is really at the heart of what we do at Samarkand Design - seeking out traditionally crafted fabrics and repurposing them to create beautiful accessories for your homes.
The Keralan Sari: A Symbol of Elegance
The history of the Kasavu sari can be traced back to trade routes and royal patronage. Ancient Kerala was a thriving hub for spice trade, attracting merchants from across the world, including Arabs, Chinese, and Europeans. Along with spices, Kerala exported fine handloom fabrics, which found markets as far away as Rome and Mesopotamia.
The kasavu border tradition is believed to have been influenced by temple attire and royal dress. The Namboodiri Brahmins and the aristocracy wore white or off-white garments with gold embellishments to reflect austerity and grandeur—values that are deeply embedded in Kerala’s cultural fabric.
Traditionally worn during festivals like Onam and Vishu, and at weddings and temple ceremonies, the Kasavu sari is prized for its simplicity and grace. Made from cotton and accented with zari (originally real gold thread), it reflects Kerala's values of purity, ritual elegance, and understated beauty.
We are not that keen on too much gold, as you probably know, but many of these saris are now made with borders in bold colours, without using any gold - or if they do, it is much more muted and actually can bring a touch of opulence to an interior.
These saris have more than an aesthetic value — they are the product of generations of skilled labour by Kerala’s weaving communities, spread across the state.
The Southern Weavers: Balaramapuram and Chendamangalam
In Balaramapuram, near Thiruvananthapuram, the Chaliya community continues to use pit looms and traditional techniques handed down for centuries. Their weaving is entirely manual and rooted in simplicity — often a single-coloured sari with a striking gold border, no embroidery, no extravagance.
And in Chendamangalam, near Ernakulam, weavers produce similar styles but with subtle variations like striped borders and mundu sets.
The Northern Heritage: Kannur’s Loom Legacy
Farther north, in Kannur, the textile story takes a different form. Known during the colonial period as Cannanore, the town became a hub of textile production under the Portuguese, Dutch, and later the British. Unlike Balaramapuram or Chendamangalam, Kannur’s weavers specialised in home textiles, furnishing fabrics, and export-oriented cotton goods. These included Jacquard fabrics, Dobby weaves, bed linens and towels.
We particularly love the Dobby weaves which give off a wonderful 'shot' appearance to the fabric and we have managed to acquire a small amount of it and I'm working on getting some more as it really is truly unique. Here is a picture of Kavitha who runs the weavers Cooperative at Pinaryi and me (unfortunately looking rather hot!)
I am not the first to have sought out the weavers of Kannur - their weaving tradition was so refined that it attracted foreign buyers by the 19th century. Its weavers mastered complex patterns and produced goods for royal and colonial clients alike.
The weaving community in Kannur includes many from traditional artisan castes, and large parts of the town still centre around weaving colonies and cooperatives. The Kannur Handloom Cluster today represents over 10,000 weavers and continues to export fabrics to Europe, Japan, and the Middle East.
Despite their skill and heritage, Kerala’s weaving communities face harsh realities: rising raw material costs, competition from power looms and synthetics, and lack of widespread marketing. Many young people are opting out of the trade. I was saddened to visit a few workshops which were largely empty, with looms standing still - and those that were working were only making very simple cloth for school uniform.
So it is vital that we encourage the efforts to revive the craft. Cooperatives like the Kerala Handloom Development Corporation (KHDC) and designer initiatives like ‘Save the Loom’ are working with local weavers to improve wages, introduce new designs, and make handloom a viable livelihood again.
I am planning to revisit Kannur later this year - this really is 'slow design' as it takes time to find the weavers who we can communicate with and who have the necessary skills and administrative capacity to produce what we need. However, it's not a hardship, as I love to go there and meet with them and watch them practicing their intricate, skilled artistry. Not to mention, I get to stay at the lovely Chera Rocks, a hidden slice of paradise, just outside Kannur - where you wake to see the fishermen return with that catch (soon to be served for your dinner) - and you can even learn how to cook it if you watch Karthiani weave her delicious wand in the kitchen!
There is much to love about this quiet corner of southern India which is relatively untouched by foreigners and it is a wonderful chance to learn about Kerala's handloom traditions - and to see that they are still alive. Each piece of fabric woven in this state carries a story: of soil, of ancestors, of skilled hands. And we love stories.
In a world driven by speed and automation, Kerala’s weavers remind us of the beauty of slowness, of fabric made not just with threads — but with time, memory, and care.