Katwalker: Sari, let's try that again

Is it me or is everyone going to India at the moment? Actually, I don't need to ask that... (Don't you hate rhetorical questions?) It's not me. I'm not going to India. I'm here, in my mysteriously located office, spinning out yarns of questionable veracity and even more questionable literacy, while everybody else, not least certain members of the Ragtrader team are going to or have just returned from India.

Oh the stories I've heard about the glorious textiles, the head-turning saris... and a driving style that makes James Bond look like a carousel ride (motorised rickshaws speeding the wrong way along the hard shoulder of a four lane freeway, while dodging holy cows, random goats and cavernous potholes, oh yes!).

And if people are not actually going to India, then they're going on about, as is The National Gallery of Art in Victoria with its Bollywood exhibition, or the recent forum vaunting India's textile and fashion trade fairs to the Australian market.

India's charms have long been self-evident; but this colourful, vibrant, complex, contradictory country has created a more than usually persistent buzz of late. Clearly something is happening over there... and I'm not talking about those delicious, brightly coloured saris, each with its own regional weft and warp. No, there's more to it than that, and two words will suffice to get the point across.

Luxury brands. One Gallic icon of establishment chic has recently signalled India's rise as a fashion hub by opening its very first factory in the subcontinent... (three cheers for the economic boom!)... And others will no doubt follow. Meanwhile I've been attempting to channel Indira Gandhi in anticipation of the rise of Indo-chic, with mixed results, and have concluded sari fans of non-Indian extraction might well need a license before being let loose with this elegant and sumptuous national garb.

I haven't really pulled off the sari with the grace that its native wearers possess, or rather, I've pulled off far too many, trying and failing to wind them neatly around my troublesome frame. The result of these fruitless endeavours was something resembling an ambulant, brightly coloured toilet roll that has unfurled and been hastily re-spooled.

Actually "ambulant" doesn't really nail it, since I invariably only managed to totter a few feet before tripping and keeling over with the grace of a felled oak. Regardless of my sari troubles, something tells me those Indian designers such as Sonam Dubal that have already made a splash in international markets are only the beginning of the Indian resurgence and I live in hope that the east meets west vibe already gaining currency will far outdo my feeble efforts.

Australian designers and importers could do worse than take inspiration from India's time-honoured textile and fashion offering, while retailers should also be keeping an eye on opportunities in situ. Please, let's not leave the subcontinent to the likes of Louis Vuitton.