Why this exists
Most people buy a garment without knowing what it is made of, and find out in year three.
Each entry names the cluster that weaves the cloth, the weight we buy it at in grams per square metre, what it is spun from, and how it behaves in the hand. Then it says how the cloth will look after five years of being worn rather than stored. Where a fabric creases, pills, fades, drops a hem, snags or thins, it is written down. Nothing in the ageing column is there to sell you the cloth — it is there so you buy the right one and store it properly.
Weight, composition and hand — then what happens after five years.
Stiff off the loom and stays that way — the supplementary zari weft locks the ground so the cloth holds a cone pleat instead of falling into one. Cool to the hand, faintly abrasive on the reverse where the float threads run, and heavy enough that a six-yard length carries its own drape without lining.
In five years
Real silver-gilt zari oxidises to a warmer, duller gold over about a decade; this is expected and is not tarnish that can be polished out. The float threads on the reverse snag on rings and jewellery, and repeated hard folding along the same line will eventually fracture the zari at the crease — refold on a different axis each time it is stored.
Dense, springy, and loud when it moves — the three-ply yarn gives it a body that resists the shoulder and holds a sharp pleat. The korvai join at the border is a genuine interlock of two colours, so the border sits slightly firmer than the field and the pallu hangs with visible weight.
In five years
The silk softens noticeably after three or four wears and drapes closer to the body thereafter; this is the cloth improving, not wearing out. Zari at the fold lines is the first thing to go — store rolled rather than folded, and expect the outer edge of the pallu to dull before the field does.
Sheer with a glassy surface — the silk warp gives sheen while the cotton weft keeps it dry to the touch rather than slippery. It floats away from the body instead of clinging, which is why it needs a lining under strong light and why it reads well in photographs.
In five years
It creases readily and the creases are visible because the surface is flat; a light press between wears is part of owning it. The cotton weft loses a little of its crispness with every wash and the cloth goes softer and slightly limper over two or three years — pleasant to wear, less good on a hanger.
Firm through the field and considerably heavier at the pallu, where the peacock and lotus motifs are built by hand with no floats behind them. The reverse of the pallu reads as clean as the face, so the cloth can be draped either way and hangs with a straight, weighted fall.
In five years
The tapestry pallu is worked in short lengths of coloured silk and those colours shift at different rates — the greens and pinks flatten before the ground silk does. Hard creasing at the pallu will show permanently because the weave there is denser than the field; keep it rolled on a cotton sleeve.
Almost weightless and semi-transparent, with an open weave that moves air. It has no structure of its own — it collapses onto whatever is under it — and the hand is dry and slightly papery until it has been washed twice.
In five years
It creases the moment you sit down and there is no finish that prevents this. Expect it to soften and thin with every wash, to grow a faint halo where seams rub, and to become genuinely translucent at the shoulders and knees after two summers of regular wear.
Uneven by definition — the yarn is spun on a charkha, so thickness varies across the width and the surface has visible slubs. Stiff and slightly boardy when new, with enough body to hold a straight kurta line and a weave open enough to stay cool at forty degrees.
In five years
This is a cloth that gets better and then gets thin. It softens dramatically over the first ten washes, then continues softening until it is closer to a worn shirt than a new one; collars and cuffs abrade first. Undyed khadi yellows slightly in sunlight, and vegetable-dyed khadi will lose a visible shade in the first year.
Coarser and drier than mulberry silk, with a matte gold cast rather than a shine and a texture you can feel through a shirt. It has springy body and stands slightly away from the frame — good for structured blouses and jackets, wrong for anything meant to cling.
In five years
The natural honey colour deepens in sunlight and does not go back. Tussar bruises: a fingernail crease or a hard fold leaves a pale line that needs steam to lift, and rubbing at the underarm and seat will raise a slight fuzz over a season or two. Dry cleaning only — water spots the raw fibre and the marks show.
Transparent and wiry — it holds a shape in the air, so a sleeve stands off the arm and a ruffle keeps its edge without wire or interfacing. Slick to cut, difficult to sew, and the crispness is a finish on the yarn twist rather than a coating.
In five years
Organza loses body. The twist relaxes with wear and humidity, and after several seasons the cloth is noticeably softer and the volumes it was cut for will sit lower. It also snags easily and a pulled thread cannot be worked back in — it shows as a permanent ladder against the light.
Heavy, light-absorbing and directional — the colour changes depending on which way the pile is running, which is why a garment must be cut with every panel facing the same direction. It hangs straight down from the shoulder and gives a sherwani its line without any additional weight in the hem.
In five years
Velvet crushes where it is sat on and pressed against, and pile marks at the seat, the inside of the elbow and under a bag strap are permanent in silk velvet. Steam lifts light crushing; it will not restore an area that has been flattened repeatedly. Store hanging, never folded.
Sheer, matte and entirely fluid — it has a slight grain from the alternating twist that gives it a pebbled hand and keeps it from being slippery. It falls in narrow vertical folds, takes a pleat badly and a gather well, and it needs to be cut on a table it can hang off.
In five years
It creases very little, which is its real advantage on a long night. Against that: seams pull and pucker over time because the fibre is fine and the stitching is fixed, hems fray if a thread is caught, and perfume and deodorant will mark the underarm permanently. Chiffon is the fabric most often lost to one careless evening.
Chiffon with weight — the same crepe twist but denser, so it is only faintly sheer and has a grainy, dry surface. It drapes in soft rounded folds, forgives a body it is not cut precisely to, and is the fabric that survives being packed in a suitcase and worn the same evening.
In five years
Georgette relaxes and grows: a bias-cut hem will drop by one to three centimetres in the first months and should be re-levelled after the first wear. The crepe surface picks up pilling where it rubs a bag or a belt, and light colours pick up dye transfer from unwashed denim and car seats.
Nubbly and substantial, closer to a raw linen than to a woven silk, with a low sheen and pronounced slubs running through the weft. It has real body and holds a structured shape, which makes it useful for jackets, bandhgalas and blouses that must stand up on their own.
In five years
The slubs abrade before the ground does, so the cloth develops a faintly worn, uneven surface at the elbows and cuffs within a few years. It softens steadily and does not return to its original crispness. Deep tones fade unevenly in direct sun because the thick and thin sections of yarn hold dye differently.
Lighter than Chanderi in the hand and glossier along the warp, with a distinct crispness that comes from the cotton weft rather than any starch. The borders are woven to read from both sides, so the cloth can be draped either way, and it holds a fine knife pleat better than most half-silks.
In five years
The finish is where the change shows: it arrives crisp and, after four or five washes, settles into a softer cloth with a duller face. Creasing is moderate and comes out with a warm iron. The zari border is flat rather than wound, so it flakes rather than dulls if it is scrubbed.
Sheer, soft and cool, with motifs that appear to float inside the cloth because each one is inserted by hand as the weaving proceeds, thread by thread. There are no floats behind the pattern, so both faces are usable and the cloth has no wrong side.
In five years
The motifs are held only by the tension of the ground weave — a hard tug on a loose end will pull a butti out of alignment permanently. The cotton creases readily and softens with each wash until the drape becomes very close to the body. Expect a fine cloth to thin at the pleat line before anywhere else.
The lightest structured cloth in the library — the alternating cotton and silk yarns form a visible grid of tiny transparent squares that stay open and let air through. It is crisp rather than fluid, stands slightly away from the skin, and is nearly weightless on the shoulder.
In five years
The traditional onion-juice and rice-paste sizing washes out, and once it does the cloth loses much of its crispness and becomes noticeably limper. The open squares snag on jewellery and a snag distorts the grid where it happens. It is a hot-weather cloth with a working life measured in summers, not decades.
Warm out of all proportion to its weight, with a soft halo on the surface and a fluid drape that folds rather than falls. Real handspun pashmina is slightly uneven when held to the light and does not have the flat, machine-perfect face of a mill cashmere.
In five years
It will pill, particularly in the first season and wherever a bag strap or a coat collar rubs. This is the fibre behaving as it should; comb the pills off with a cashmere comb rather than pulling them. Over years the halo lies down and the shawl becomes softer, denser and better. It is vulnerable to moths — store clean, with cedar, never in plastic.