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Lawn Revolution

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Fabric swatches alongside a print

Fabric swatches alongside a print

The lawn business is mammoth; its proportions are gargantuan. Hundreds of thousands of rupees are dropped into production and campaigns at the drop of a hat, millions of yards of fabric is printed and distributed, and most is sold. The lawn market is like a vast ocean, with contenders casting their nets and vying for some kind of fortune from it. Lawn is where fortunes are made, whether you are a mill owner, designer, campaign photographer or even a model.

The kind of numbers that mills like Gul Ahmed and Alkaram generate can’t even be imagined unless you read their annual financial reports. According to reliable sources, Gul Ahmed has an estimated five billion rupees set aside for their lawn production alone. “We produce around four summer collections a year; the last is Eid specific since [the festival] has been falling in the summer during the last few years,” says Shehnaz Basit, director for marketing at Gul Ahmed. “All the summer collections consist of lawn fabric. Simultaneously, exclusive ranges of lawn prints are developed for our ready-to-wear department. Over the past few years, clothing has become very important,” she adds.
Gul Ahmed’s textile exports are huge, but that doesn’t imply all lawn is exported; most is also absorbed within the local market, Basit explains. “Only around five per cent is exported.” She says, that “the demand for lawn [export] is very high, especially in India”, but it’s “still a grey market because export duties are very high”.

The amalgamation of fashion designers and lawn, of course, has added prestige and design value to an already commercially successful product. Financially, there was really no need for such collaboration but with the tiny fashion industry hogging the style spotlight, it was a step taken for attention. And true to its intention, textile/designer collaborations have overshadowed publicity for eight months of a sartorial year. March through October, when Pakistan enjoys a lengthy summer and women turn to lawn as their staple fabric, ‘designer lawn’ is all they can talk about.

The last three to four years have seen the saturation of two trends: mills contracting fashion designers to lend their names and expertise for limited ‘designer lawn’, and, inversely, designers hiring mills to print their fabric. The first collaboration is straightforward. Textile mills like Alkaram, Orient, Lakhany, Lala, Crescent, etc, have been known to commission fashion designers anything between two million and 20 million rupees per collection (depending on the designer’s ranking), reveal sources in the business. For textile mills, that amounts to a bucket out of a multi-billion rupee pool; for designers it is relatively easy money (and a lot of publicity) coming their way.

Until two years ago, almost every lawn campaign revolved around this equation. Soon after, many designers (especially those with investment capacity) realised that there was a lot more money to be made if they could finance their own lawn instead of designing for mills. That said, not everyone can afford this huge investment running into millions of rupees required for a process ranging from raw fabric purchase to printing (the latter alone can cost anywhere between 15-20 rupees per yard), to the marketing campaign and actual sales that include exhibition costs and distribution. For a young designer, who wants to play it safe, by printing around 30,000 suits or joras – (which would include fabric for a kameez, trouser and dupatta) to the accomplished names that easily produce up to 200,000 joras, it is a huge undertaking.

It is a risk Sana Safinaz were willing to take when they went solo a couple of years ago. After lending their name to Alkaram, Firdous and Lakhany for almost 14 years, they decided to start printing their own fabric. Today, Sana Safinaz buy their lawn and chiffon and silk used in dupattas themselves, and outsource the printing to various mills of their choice. “It is a head-banging process to get the right quality. We feel that we are bleeding all the way,” says Safinaz Muneer of the procedure that begins in August for a collection to be launched in March next year. It is lengthy and tedious, especially for designers like Sana and Safinaz who sweat it out to create designs according to their own design philosophy, and then team it with the finest quality of fabric available. “It is not easy to put in the sleepless nights, the work and the money,” Muneer adds.

In Lahore Khadijah Shah of Èlan talks about some of the challenges. Shah prints in Faisalabad and with the gas and power outages the entire process becomes a nightmare. “It’s a six-month process, from motif development to printing to adverting and the actual launch,” Shah tells the Herald. “Most textile mills are into bed sheets and linen printing, which doesn’t work for lawn,” she says. “We are printing 25,000-30,000 suits because I feel branded lawn should be exclusive and we don’t want to inundate the market with it.”

Details of an embroidered piece of lawn fabric

Details of an embroidered piece of lawn fabric

Sania Maskatiya, who is launching her debut lawn collection with Sapphire Textiles this year, is going by the same philosophy. “We are printing around 25,000 pieces (joras) so [the quantity] is pretty contained,” says Umair Tabani, the brand’s head of business. The interesting thing is that Maskatiya is simultaneously launching her lawn as a limited prêt collection. Around 5,000 of the printed lawn pieces will be sold as ready-to-wear tunics. While designers have been offering tailoring of their own lawn to their clients, no one has put up tailored units on a considerable scale. “The mill printing for us – Sapphire – will be stitching our ready-to-wear [collection] as well,” Tabani adds. “But we have supplied all the patterns, the buttons and the trimmings for the finishing. We have our own quality controls, checks and balances in place because at the end of the day it is our name on the line.”

Another evolutionary step in the Sania Maskatiya line will be the introduction of figurines and animal prints. Designers have historically stayed clear of both because of a simple reason — they don’t sell. The conservative market condemns figures and animals as prints, unacceptable for religious reasons. But Maskatiya, who has built a reputation around her love for figurines, will be including them in her lawn. Tabani, however, explains that “only 20 per cent of the prints are figurative” and believes that there is a big enough market for them. “Our clients are comfortable wearing animal prints and figurines and we feel people are more open to them now.”

Whether it is textile mill and designer collaborations, ready-to-wear lawn or the introduction of cultural diversity into prints (the latter was unfathomable five years ago), lawn is undergoing a revolution that is influencing the dynamic of the textile and fashion industry. Last year, the Trade and Development Authority of Pakistan (TDAP) took a large textile exhibition to Delhi, India. This year an Indian designer is reportedly designing a collection of lawn prints for a Pakistani mill, namely Five Star Textiles. Will lawn become the real prêt-à-porter for Pakistan? Will textiles facilitate business between India and Pakistan even if borders remain closed for open trade? So far, it appears that lawn has shown that it has the power to pull revolutions of sorts.

Year in review: Fashion Talk

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Clockwise: Shamaeel Ansari; Zahir Rahimtoola; Ayesha Tammy Haq; Frieha Altaf; Umair Tabani; Feeha Jamshed

Clockwise: Shamaeel Ansari; Zahir Rahimtoola; Ayesha Tammy Haq; Feeha Jamshed; Umair Tabani; Frieha Altaf

Pakistan’s social landscape has recently become inundated with the advent of multiple fashion weeks, hosted by competing fashion councils and organisations. The Herald invited three panellists whose expertise in the field of fashion extends to organisation, design, retail and commerce, to discuss whether fashion weeks translate into sales.

Ayesha Tammy Haq, a lawyer and multimedia journalist was also the CEO of Fashion Pakistan, a council of Karachi-based designers; Shamaeel Ansari, the CEO of her design company with nearly 25 years of experience as a designer, is currently the chairperson of the Fashion Pakistan Council, and Zahir Rahimtoola, the founder and CEO of Labels, a store which popularised off-the-rack western casuals in Pakistan back in the nineties. They were also joined by industry stalwart and former model, Frieha Altaf, the head of Catwalk Productions; Umair Tabani, the CEO for the award-winning Sania Maskatiya label; and Feeha Noor Jamshed, a young designer who has transformed TeeJays. Collectively, they argue that due to the fashion industry being much too nascent, with a little more support, it can in time prosper for Pakistani and international markets alike.

Herald. How critical are fashion weeks for the industry to thrive in Pakistan?
Zahir Rahimtoola. Fashion weeks are an important platform showcasing designers. However fashion weeks need to be geared to the business of fashion as opposed to entertainment. They need to put the right kind of pressure on designers to produce at least two solid collections a year, which is the requirement of any fashion industry in the world. Also, they have helped consolidate the fashion industry and are perhaps the most economical way for new talent to showcase their brand on the ramp.
Ayesha Tammy Haq. The first fashion week in Pakistan, organised by Fashion Pakistan in November 2009 used the media to broadcast Pakistani fashion to the world.

Herald. Why don’t we see more buyers coming in?
Umair Tabani. This is a tricky question. Accessibility comes with designers having the infrastructure to produce. We need the council to facilitate strategic partnerships with designers who don’t have the infrastructure and companies looking for designers. Designers should show a mix of items that are sellable and ramp-worthy.
Rahimtoola. The term designer is very broadly used in Pakistan. There is a distinction between a true designer and a fashion entrepreneur and this is where the problem lies.
Shamaeel Ansari. I agree with Zahir. This is achievable with a synergy between the designer and the entrepreneur.
Tabani. At Sania Maskatiya, we’ve always strived to achieve a balance between creativity and mass demand. Let’s face it: we live in a Muslim country and 95 per cent of our women are conservative and not in good shape.
Feeha Noor Jamshed. The mass production level of catering is minimum. Fashion needs to be seen on the streets. Every international designer has lines for pret, couture and retail. Where my own label is concerned mass production price points start at 2,500 rupees up to 5,000 rupees; pret is from 10,000 rupees upwards; and couture is another ball game.

Herald. Do fashion weeks function simply to showcase designers and their talents, or do they actually translate into collections in stores?

Ansari. Before fashion weeks took place, there were only a few designers that found their way to mainstream consumers. Fashion weeks and the media machinery they involve bring the entire gamut of designers to the forefront. Today, after successive fashion weeks in Pakistan, one can truly boast of at least 50 credible names in the industry. Also it has been a tremendous opportunity for the media to join hands with the secondary industry associated with fashion such as choreographers, photographers and retailers to interact and work on one platform.
Tammy Haq. I think you need to step back for a moment. Fashion weeks are a platform. Designers need to have production facilities if they are looking for huge orders.
Ansari. I agree that fashion weeks can only provide a platform and a quality benchmark for selection. And yes, it does depend on the individual designer to take the collections forward to sales. This can only come about by establishing discipline, work ethic and production facilities.
Jamshed. It should transfer into sales and such platforms have increased sales for most designers making clothes that can be sold off the racks.
Herald. @Zahir, as a buyer, what do you look for when you attend fashion weeks in Pakistan?
Rahimtoola. Fashion weeks are more of a meet-and-greet exercise as we are connected with our designers on a daily basis. Moreover, since we don’t have comprehensive seasonal collections, for me fashion weeks at the moment are not a great buying source.
Frieha Altaf. Besides multi-brand stores, new designers now have the opportunity to show talent and recruit buyers even if it’s in the local market. I disagree with Zahir, I feel the platform brings a lot of talent – and hence sales – upfront.
Tammy Haq. Our designers aim to sell their collections making large capital investments in them which they need to recover. They need to evolve to seasonal collections that they can place in stores as well.
Altaf. I’ve noticed that established designers are not interested in fashion weeks. The new [designers] need the platform more.
Ansari. It is equally important for established designers to exhibit collections as well as the new as today fashion weeks are live streamed to the world and give seasoned designers a kind of exposure they’ve never had before. As such the industry still needs to cater to the upcoming vast demand in regional markets.

Are Pakistani fashion weeks translating
into sales?

Yes 19%
No 81%
*The above question was posed to online readers during the two-hour live discussion

Herald. What needs to change in terms of designer output and quality control?
Rahimtoola. There is a disconnect between the textile industry and fashion designers. Textile mills are used to producing large runs of fabric, but the kind of fabric produced in Pakistan really does not cut the ice for the designer. However, of late, we are seeing a bridge between the textile mills and fashion designers via lawn.
Ansari. A liaison between designers and the industry of finished garments is needed. If fashion has to go from Pakistan to the West, large-scale manufacturing and quality standards can be established as well as financing with ideal mergers between designers and the textile industry. Pakistan is known for its denim quality. The first collaboration between ready-to-wear garments and textile should be made with denim.
Tammy Haq. The truth is that Pakistan is producing quality garments for high-street stores all over the world. Unfortunately, we are not designing them.
Ansari. Time and again we say that the Trade Development Authority (TDA) has set up fashion cells to document the business of fashion. However, nothing has materialised to date. Support from the TDA would be of great use to document the total value of the industry. Pakistan has always lacked the right kind of support from government authorities for fashion. As such, it is not just fashion institutes that are required. Alongside this, venture capital needs to come in, in order to invest in the talent here. A consortium of textile industrialists investing in designers to do the job of value-added designing would certainly change the story.

Herald. Why has the fashion industry failed to make strides in the international market, whereas countries like Turkey and India tend to project their indigenous designers successfully?
Rahimtoola. India started the business of fashion weeks in the year 2000. Whilst it has held their domestic industry to date, they have yet to make a benchmark on the international scene. Designers such as Manish Malhotra have received critical acclaim but hardly any commercial success. However the same designers have tapped into the local market which has facilitated their growth largely due to Bollywood and fashion weeks.
Ansari. In terms of an indigenous designer label, India needs to find its space on the racks abroad. Coming back to Pakistan, the government here must take a hard look at fashion as an industry. In my opinion, I feel the government has not viewed fashion beyond entertainment for their buyers. It is all about acquiring knowledge in this industry — the economic aspect of the amount of labour it hires in its entirety. As far as the fact that it preserves the job or vocation of the artisan today, we have seen how many machines for digital printing are being imported into the country. There are so any aspects that the government can gain knowledge upon if they choose to.
Tammy Haq. Professionally run bodies will then be able to deal with all aspects of the business. I do not agree with the notion that the government should be involved or be dictating how councils are run. At best there could be some sort of funding which should be made to the council and not designers.
Altaf. That’s why Shamoon (of Khaadi) does so well, he’s got 10 people from overseas running his manufacturing, quality control etc. He’s got five stores in the UAE, and still expanding. His could be the business model to look at.
Ansari. Shamoon’s model is based primarily on the right partnerships, which has meant investment, capital and growth. I feel there is a lot of talent in Pakistan for financial people to run fashion houses. Fashion weeks are helping in bringing the business to the forefront. Slowly but surely we are seeing growth of good management, at least in a few fashion design enterprises. The TDA in my view needs to assist in developing trade. This means organising the financial liaisons. It is only when designers acquire a consistent professional scale of manufacturing that it can truly be called an industry.

Herald. Also, just concentrating on bridal couture and mass-market design creates a vacuum for mid-level consumers and isn’t that where prêt wear comes in?
Rahimtoola. Sania Maskatiya is a prime example of a successful prêt business. She has been able to create a huge prêt business, as have Sana Safinaz. Khaadi is another example of brilliant innovation, of creating a huge prêt market for themselves in an unfavourable retail environment. We have these examples which have been huge success stories. They have been focused in their objectives and have consistently delivered.
Ansari. Agreed. I think the availability of ready-to-wear is going to be important in Pakistan. Lifestyles are changing with little time on hand for everyone.
Tammy Haq. Drive through the Zamzama lanes and you’ll be amazed at how many shops there are and how much prêt they are selling.

Herald. What sorts of gaps do you see in the fashion market, in terms of quality, production, creativity and trained professionals?
Rahimtoola. Quality control is lacking as we do not have standardised quality control levels.
Altaf. The problem is that all the students want to become designers. No one wants to drape, stitch, make patterns, write or just sketch and merchandise.
Tammy Haq. Shortcut Nation, Frieha.
Rahimtoola. We have recently started the business of e-commerce for international markets. Unfortunately, as there is very limited standardisation we have had to create and sell to individually specified and detailed outfits.
Jamshed. [TeeJays] deals in mass production, supplying to all the major multi brand stores in Pakistan and also sells online. We are not taking any custom-made orders at the moment but concentrating on producing and supplying in bulk.

Herald. As a retailer, do you communicate this to designers, and if so, what’s the response?
Rahimtoola. I am of the opinion that fashion councils will need to create advisory bodies to assist designers.
Tammy Haq. Designers need to learn how to execute their craft. The fashion schools and The Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture have produced great talent such as Kamiar Rokni, Nomi Ansari, etc. There may be huge amounts of creativity and talent but lack of business acumen may result in inadequate capital to produce.

Saman. Have fashion weeks helped local Pakistani designers projecting their expertise in the global limelight?
Ansari. The international media always picks up our fashion weeks. Through this we have generated an interest in international fashion communities. FPC has signed many MOU’s this year with international fashion weeks, sending talent abroad. Look at the interest Pakistani fashion has created in India and once trade opens this will be a prolific market.
Tabani. I was in India last week and came back very inspired — they are leaps and bounds ahead of us. We need to structure our design houses like any other textile or garment company. In order to entertain foreign buyers one needs to have the infrastructure in place to bulk produce at competitive prices.
I feel fashion shows do relate in sales — even if not directly but definitely indirectly. It pushes the designer to innovate and create a totally different collection.
Rahimtoola. Indeed, there is a need to bring fashion out in the open. I am of the opinion that currently fashion weeks don’t translate into sales.
Tammy Haq. As our industry is in its early years it can experiment and make mistakes. Look at what the rest of the world is doing, how much of that applies here? It’s not difficult. We just need to focus.

  Herald’s Pakistan Fashion moments in 2012

Sania Maskatiya’s Matyala, Uraan, Lokum and Wagah collections were well received by customers and critics alike, along with their collection for the TV play Shehr-e-zaat.

Labels E-store launched as a platform for local designers to reach out to foreign customers.

Sana Safinaz’s summer lawn collection created much mayhem amongst women (yet again), selling out despite controversy surrounding their advertising campaign.

Khaadi launched their collection for children’s wear.

Misha Lakhani’s debut was much appreciated by critics and customers within the fashion community.

Designer Mahin Hussein launched her 14th August collection celebrating 65 years of Pakistan’s independence featuring her eponymous flag clutch.

Debenhams, Mango and Nine West come to Pakistan paving the way for other international retail brands.

Ensemble, a multi-brand store featuring designers such as Nida Azwer, Sania Maskatiya and The Designers opened in Dubai.

PFDC opened Bridal Boulevard in Delhi, displaying Pakistan’s fine couture across the border.

Bunto Kazmi dressed filmmaker, Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy for the Oscars.

Elan’s Gold Dust collection was unanimously considered best collection at PFDC bridal couture week.

Annual fashion debate 2012

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Are Pakistani fashion weeks translating into sales?

Pakistan’s social calendar has fast filled up with a slew of fashion weeks, hosted by competing fashion councils and organisations. On Tuesday, December 11, between 6pm and 8pm, the Herald has invited three panelists to discuss whether these fashion weeks result in sales. After the discussion, the floor will open for our readers’ questions.

Ayesha Tammy Haq

Haq is a lawyer, a multimedia journalist and has been CEO of Fashion Pakistan, the Fashion Design Forum. She organised Pakistan’s first ever fashion week, Fashion Pakistan Week, in November 2009

Shamaeel Ansari

Ansari is the CEO of a design powerhouse with nearly 25 years of experience as a designer. She is also the chairperson of Fashion Pakistan.

Zahir Rahimtoola

Rahimtoola is the founder and CEO of Labels, a store which popularised off-the-rack western casuals in Pakistan back in the nineties.

A cut above the rest

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We are on the ritzy fashion avenue of Dubai Mall and as we step into Tory Burch, two women – apparently Lebanese, with a distant South Asian connection – start gushing over Nomi Ansari and how much they love his clothes. Not only do they recognise the Pakistani designer, they know that his sister Faiza (also with us) is wearing one of his latest digital prints. They want to know where they can buy these in Dubai.

We are in the United Arab Emirates (UAE) for the opening of the multi-label boutique Ensemble (where clothes from Ansari’s collection are available for sale) and Ansari appears to bask in the recognition he is getting. He has a radiant personality, a youthful spirit that is effortlessly reflected in his love for colour. He also has a delightful sense of humour that makes itself evident at the oddest of moments. He is a great mimic at all times, whether he may be poking a finger at a celebrity he has worked with, or a witch doctor he recently had the misfortune of dealing with when a cousin believed her bones could be hypnotised into elongating themselves three inches.

The fashion ‘moron’

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Feeha Jamshed. Photo by Arif Mahmood

“You can criticise my craft but not my inspiration,” says designer, Feeha Jamshed, leaning forward almost ferociously on the white leather sofa in her drawing room. It’s the one time during this interview that her eyes darken, her mood shifts to something vaguely resembling hostility. Earlier this year, Jamshed’s fashion show titled Minnal was criticised by fashion commentators for being dark. Following the shocking death of her beloved older sister, the show, though beautifully accomplished, was sombre; the atmosphere made even more so by the sad music playing in the background, with models scattering rose petals as they walked the ramp.
Fashion journalists felt that her personal tragedy should not have been portrayed so publicly. This criticism, Jamshed believes, was a contradiction in itself. If they believed that her line was so fantastic, then why did they hold the inspiration against her? Do they forget she is an artist, reminds an admirer.

Actually, forget the artistry for a moment.

At 28, and with no formal degree in designing, Jamshed has not only managed to resurrect her father’s larger-than-life business fearlessly and single-handedly, but also simultaneously launched her very own line. Success has embraced her. Yet, one can tell that the show and expressing herself meant a lot to her. “I don’t have stage fright,” she says, “I don’t get nervous, but I felt my heart pounding when I was doing this show,” she admits, adding, “I came forth with my vulnerability. You’re strong because you face your fears … and I have faced mine.”

For someone whose life in the past few years has been dictated by death and tragedy, she has shown tremendous fortitude. “I give myself a day, and then I come back full throttle,” she says. Her grandfather’s death a few years ago when she was studying in Lahore weakened her legendary father, Tanvir Jamshed (also known as Teejay) already suffering from a heart condition. He had a silent heart attack; and because he was such a high-risk patient senior doctors refused to perform heart surgery. Jamshed says that “A junior doctor offered to do it,” and his heart is now working at 30 per cent capacity. “It has been four years since then,” she says, “my father wanted me to come back anyway and at that time he was in no condition to handle anything.”

But then, “she was always destined to be a fashion designer,” says younger brother, Mustafa. “It was in her blood since she was a little child.” He remembers her designing for actor Marina Khan’s show when Jamshed was just a teenager and admits proudly that “she was destined for greatness and deserved to take over the Teejays legacy.”

Jamshed herself discloses that when she was only 13, she designed for actor, Atiqa Odho in Tum He To Ho. “My father was very busy with something so he told me to do it and it became a big hit.”

Growing up in her father’s shadow couldn’t have been easy, especially since she admits that he’s rather hard to please. But then Jamshed was cut from the same cloth. Anyone who worked with Teejays during his heydays must have known what a brilliant businessman he was. Jamshed is no different. Most enterprising, she started earning independently at 15. Younger sister Maham says, “Feeha was always a merchant,” adding that “with the lack of western wear sold here, she would design and cut gorgeous maxi dresses and skirts. Friends would then ask her to make them clothes. later, it evolved into wedding ensembles. Word got around and at 15 she had a client-based clothes business.”

Also, Jamshed admits that while she was still in school she would save her lunch money – 10 rupees at the time – and instead take Super Crisp packets from home to sell them at the canteen. “In Lyceum, I started to sell brownies,” she says. Maham adds “most people don’t know that she makes the best brownies ever! There was such a demand for those brownies that people would reserve them.”

It was also a time in her life when Jamshed didn’t agree with her father’s philosophy. She would see other designers such as Faiza Samee and Rizwan Beyg make so much more money after selling one lavishly-embellished ensemble while her father made so many clothes which in comparison cost nothing. “I was very immature at the time. I didn’t understand what he was doing. To be in retail and to be inventing as well — that was a big risk to take and he was the only one doing it at the time.”
It was a learning experience, opening her eyes to what this business is really about. “I was wearing sunglasses on a rainy day,” she says seriously. “If you can make clothes for the complete 100 per cent, why cater to the two per cent niche market was his philosophy,” says Jamshed.

It is this philosophy that she works with now. “I did the bridal thing but it was so boring. There is no challenge in that. When I joined Teejays my father gave me cotton and told me to make something for him. I ended up making the most difficult pieces using pleats and making flowy clothing that to most would be possible only in chiffon. Cotton challenged me,” she says. “My best piece came out of 50 samples,” she adds, “I started educating myself at the grass-roots level.” So it was no surprise for most that Alexandra Senes, the director for Pret a Porter, the biggest women’s fashion fair in Europe and PFDC’s French fashion consultant picked Jamshed as one of the Super Eight to represent Pakistan in Paris at the show. As it came hot on the heels of her sister’s death, she turned it down but it was one of those rare moments when her father was proud of her.

Now when stating her choicest designers, she is confident her opinions are well-informed. “My favourites are YSL, Jil Sander, Alexander Wang.” Locally, she is a fan of Kamiar Rokini’s design aesthetic, and she loves Umar Sayeed and Imran Ahmed’s cuts. “I’m a cut-oriented person,” she says decidedly.

Anyone who has ever seen Jamshed at weddings will testify to that fact. Besides the breathtaking silhouettes, her eastern wear almost always has a traditional feel. “I am the only one who has made a sharara jumpsuit,” she says, adding that, “I have a margin of how modern I will go.” For her baat pakki she wore her mother’s old dupatta with a simple suit. Being undeniably beautiful, her charm reminiscent of old-world beauties, at weddings she often looks like she has stepped out of an old black-and-white Indian movie. Even during the interview, despite being dressed in skinny brown pants, a beige shirt and taupe heels, it is obvious from the round gold-and-pearl earrings that she loves all things traditional.

Nida Khan, a stylist at Tariq Amin and a close friend, says Jamshed is very “desi” at heart. “The radio is always on in her room and she loves both Bollywood and Pakistani music.” Both brother and sister admit that their childhood was like a sitcom. “Growing up with Feeha, there was never a dull moment. She used to make us watch all the Indian movies as she used to get so excited about them. She would make me and Maham do choreographed dances from movies. She would make sure we got it right,” says Mustafa, while her sister Maham adds that, “We were always singing, dancing, acting out scenes from movies and our very own scripts. We would perform these improvised skits in front of our extended family and Feeha was the main attraction. She was an entertainer all around and always had the limelight. And she loved it. Our father was always making home videos and she would come in front of the camera and shout ‘Me! Me!’ Her fame doesn’t surprise any of us.”

But this very fame hasn’t come easy; neither was her childhood a perfectly carefree one. “We had to grow up way too soon, too fast,” admits Maham. “But we made the most of it and had a blast. Our friends would love coming over for night-long gossip sessions with us three sisters and our mum. They still do!” Actor Mahira Khan, one of Jamshed’s closest friends says: “We have lived in each other’s homes and called each other’s mothers amma/mama.” Insia Faisal, another friend now living in Singapore says that in their 22 years of friendship, “We have bonded over everything from boys to Bollywood to weight issues to food. We would hold Miss Universe contests when we were children and we would both wear this horrible coconut lipstick when we started wearing make-up.”

“I am a fashion moron,” laughs Jamshed, “I started wearing make-up recently.” And then, smiling widely, she admits that she got her first pedicure last year. But then “I want people to like me for me,” she says, “not because now I have a better haircut.” The ability to laugh at herself while nonchalantly stating her accomplishments makes her fun to speak to. “Feeha is funny even when she’s not trying to be,” says Khan, “you will always see people laughing around her.” Her sister agrees with Khan, saying she makes her laugh no matter what sadness life brings.
“We understand that you can’t live life without friends, good times, and lots and lots of gupshup,” says Maham. The time to chill is always accompanied by Jamshed’s favourite activity, tea and biscuits, say her friends and family.

And perhaps, this pervading sense of joy in her life was the necessary ingredient. From having to deal with the closing down of Teejays all over the world when foreign accounts were frozen in the aftermath of Pakistan’s nuclear blasts – including outlets on the Champs-Élysées in Paris, in Jeddah, even in South Africa, that sold shoes, safari suits and jackets – to dealing with her older sisters’ illness which spiralled out of control three years ago, Jamshed has faced much emotional upheaval. “We sent my sister and mother to Paris for something that was supposed to take only three months. Minnal was very seriously ill, she was kept in an incubator at the facility and we were sending them 20,000 to 25,000 euros each month for her treatment. Whatever Teejays made was being sent to them,” she says candidly.

“But God had other plans,” she adds. Three months became two years, during which time her sister started to recover. Then one day, while getting coffee for her mother at a bistro under their apartment, she disappeared. “She always came home at 7 pm, even in Karachi if she went out after that, I was her chaperone,” says Jamshed. But on that day she didn’t return. Their mother waited in agony for her daughter. She was found four days later, floating in the River Seine.

The attitude of the Paris police was most lethargic and it was after her father went through great lengths to put pressure on the French government that lawyers investigated her untimely death. Nothing conclusive came up except for the fact that she died 10 hours after she disappeared. There is a lot of conjecture, and for Jamshed’s mother, a doctor, the two gashes on her daughter’s forehead were a clear sign that she had been attacked. “My sister was very God-fearing, she would not have killed herself.” How one can retain their sanity in the aftermath of such a mysterious death of the most beloved member of a family is anyone’s guess. But they did find a way. While her father who hadn’t left his room in years found solace in work, going back to the factory for 12 hours a day, Jamshed and her mother turned to God.

“Minnal, my mother and khala have been mureeds of Sheikh Nazim [the Turkish Sufi saint who lives in Cyprus],” she says. She adds that she prays five times a day now. “We need this, you know, it’s where I, too, derive my strength from otherwise I wouldn’t know how to go on.” She plans now to take her mother to Cyprus to visit the Sheikh. It is clear from the way she speaks about her mother that not only does she love her but she admires her as well. “Dealing with my mother in all this has made me strong. After everything she’s been through, her own mother died a month back,” says Jamshed sadly. “Yet she is so tough, and I wonder, if I need to be strong for her, how much stronger do I need to be.” After a moment’s silence, she adds, “I don’t know anyone like her, and this struggle makes me what I am today.”

It is with all this that one wonders how she balances the might of the fashion industry with her deep spiritual proclivity. “Praying has brought me out of my pain and given me peace. Buddhists meditate every day in the morning; we do it five times a day. Religion has never conflicted with my life. It has made me what I am — and I make clothes. It is so easy for me to make a connection between my beliefs and my life.”

“She taught me the pursuit of happiness,” says Maham. It is in the same optimistic vein that Jamshed adds that as far as her career and business are concerned, she will keep evolving. And “I love, love, love children,” she laughingly concludes; we now know marriage is next on the cards.

Listening to Jamshed and her family narrate their roller coaster of a life leaves me stimulated. So young, yet so battle-hardened. Small wonder the young woman defends her inspiration so ferociously.

Everything you wanted to know about Pakistan’s fashion weeks

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This marathon of five fashion weeks was enough to dazzle, frazzle and confuse anyone. And so it was only natural that Pakistan’s famous five: Showcase 2012, Fashion Pakistan Week 3, PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2012, Islamabad Fashion Week and Bridal Couture Week would open the floodgates of curiosity. People were interested as well as confused — why, in this country that is riddled with instability and extremism and struggling with economic meltdown, was fashion suddenly taking centre stage? And so, here it is: a guide to understanding fashion weeks in Pakistan and an attempt to interject some logic into the sometimes-baffling decisions made in fashion circles.

Sania Maskatiya

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Sania Maskatiya: an unusual name for a young designer just as unusually successful in a very short period of time. An Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture graduate with a major in textiles and a family background in manufacturing garments, Maskatiya may have had technical support that gave her wings to fly, but her success is attributed more to her business acumen. The last one year has seen the rise of the Sania Maskatiya label: from the inauguration of a flagship store in Karachi to widespread availability in mainstream fashion stores across Pakistan. Her popularity has stemmed from a strong design sense growing through fashion-week success and culminating in the appreciation she garnered by dressing Oscar-winner Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy for the awards luncheon in Los Angeles.

Another reason for Maskatiya’s popularity is her personal grace. She is appreciated for having an optimistic karma and a ‘can-do’ attitude that she shares with her brother Umair Tabani who is undoubtedly the backbone of the Sania Maskatiya enterprise. A qualified chartered accountant, he brings professionalism to an industry that has an unfortunate ‘get-by’, lackadaisical attitude towards everything. Together they operate the 150-member team that ensures seamless day-to-day running.

Here the Herald talks to the woman behind the brand and why her conservative clientele wear designs with animal and bird imagery.

Q. Do you have any regrets not going to Central Saint Martins?

A. When I got into Saint Martins my father wanted me to go but my mother is old school and she convinced me not to. But no, I have no regrets at all because I loved Indus Valley. If it weren’t for Shahnaz Ismail I would have quit in a day or two but she is amazing. She holds the place together. Art school is always intense and Indus was too. Then when I got married I realised that I was lucky to have gotten to spend four extra years with my parents.

Q. Does a professional degree in textiles and/or fashion help?

A. A lot of people are crazy successful even without a degree but I learnt so much at school: discipline, technique, colour proportion. We actually learnt how to dye and weave cloth. We used to sit at khaddis (handlooms) doing an insane amount of work. In retrospect I understand the business of fabric so much better. You learn the basics. There’s so much learning that gives you confidence and clarity to deal with issues.

My screen printer, for example, wanted to use iron clad frames and I told him it was such an extra expense because we could do the same work on wooden frames which were 4,000 rupees cheaper. We could save 80,000 rupees on the 20 frames that we needed. Had I not had that knowledge he would have persuaded me to go for the iron frames. We gave him a technical solution to printing on wooden frames. Another example is that dyers still stick to the myth that ferozi colour bleeds. We’re in the 21st century and it’s preposterous to say that any problem doesn’t have a solution. We have given them sealants and technical solutions.

Q. How much does it help to be part of a textile family?

A. I never wanted to join the family business per se because I was interested in design and they do everything in mass production. It never appealed to me then but now it does. My father was instrumental when it came to acquiring fabric, machinery as well as helped with merchandising, spinning and knitting. When we started, he took us to all the factories, silk printing mills and we got great exposure in terms of insight as well as practical help like lending us space to make screens.

Q. What advice would you give new designers trying to make a breakthrough?

A. It’s important to have a good business plan and to work on the ground plan. We had this place [flagship store] for six months before we actually opened it. Sampling is important; we procured the fabric and came up with samples for every line. Having full stock capacity was an issue for us. In Pakistan, you go to stores – even many famous stores – and you see five things hanging on the racks. We wanted to make sure that would never happen. Visibility and accessibility are most important for a successful brand these days.

Q. What about brand building, which you have been very effective in doing?

A. We needed brand building for which we hired Lotus and that was really important and helpful. It was expensive but instead of spending on billboards and TV we invested in a good publicist. We photograph our work and advertise it constantly because then even if someone is replicating your work, people have seen it as yours before.

Q. Do you have a specific vision for the Sania Maskatiya brand?

A. We may not want to do the kind of volumes produced in factories yet but we want to expand production eventually. We will want to produce massively and have vendors everywhere. We are already stocking in many places but I’m talking bigger. And we understand that the way we want to do prêt is by bringing the price under 5,000 rupees and giving our clients a value-added product.

Q. What in your terms is a value added product?

A. We make sure our fabric is pure. When doing cottons we use Al-Karam, Gul Ahmed or imported voiles. I think anyone can make clothes nicely and most Pakistani women have a great sense of style so we try to give them something that they can’t put together so easily themselves. We offer a bit of block print, a little bit of lace trimming in our casuals, pair it with detailing, our screens. Tailors would throw a fit if they had to do all that.

Q. As a textile student you do have a flair for prints.

A. I love prints and we do our own computerised prints, screens, blocks etc. I’d love to do lawn too but I just feel that we’re too young a brand to get into it as yet. But we’re working on computerised cotton prints this year.

Q. You started off as the label Chamak and it wasn’t very well received at Fashion Week. What mistakes did you make?

A. That was the first time I ever showed and the stuff was similar to what I am making now. But I was under the impression that we had to show something funky and different and not all wearable so I worked a lot harder because I wasn’t selling that stuff. I realised a little too late that I needed to show what we can wear, not fantasy. It should have been a concept that could translate to wearable clothing. That said, I learnt from my mistakes.

Q. You’ve come a long way since then, the flagship store being a benchmark of your success. You were initially designing for friends and family but what kind of clientele does the brand attract now?

A. Some of my clients just come to me for couture. But now that there is always something on the racks they end up browsing and picking up ready-to-wear too. We try to be as accessible and available as possible. There are barely any sleeveless clothes in the store. My clients don’t wear very slinky clothes. I’ll make dresses and tube tops and jumpsuits but that’s mostly order based. Off the rack is mostly conservative and draped, with colours and material being the focus.

I believe that the contemporary vision is whatever makes a woman feel good about herself. To change one’s look is always good. I do think every woman has an innate sense of style and they need to capitalise on that and find their own sense of style. That’s most important. Sales, on the other hand, depend on the season. For instance, these days most women are coming for cotton casuals. People visiting from abroad during the holiday season are generally good buyers.

Q. You say your clientele is conservative and yet there is so much animal and bird imagery in your designs. The perception is that conservative women don’t like wearing animal prints?

A. You know I used to think so too but it’s not necessarily true. The elephants are all sold out. We’ve had giraffes and camels and birds as well and they did very well. Some people will come and say make everything as is but don’t make the eyes. They feel they can’t pray with figures that have eyes. Sometimes women ask me to sketch birds with their heads turning into flowers. Initially I didn’t want to change designs but we do now. We change designs and always accommodate clients but we make everything look nice and arty.

As a designer our responsibility is not to change someone’s belief. That said, I love nature and especially birds. The collection we’re showing at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2012 is all about birds.

Q. Ethical and eco-friendly fashion is such a big issue these days. Do you feel you follow any outlines?

A. We’re big on ethics. We’re not very eco-friendly to be truthful but we are particular about ethics by giving workers good working conditions, free lunch, subsidised food and good weekly wages. We give them transportation on strikes and we pay them extra. We need to get the production out. We’re particular about paying them every Saturday, on time. When workers come to us and brag about having worked with ‘so and so’ we tell them to unlearn whatever they have learnt. Because of all this we’ve managed to retain most of our employees over long periods and those who leave really do us no damage.

Copycat, copycat, where have you been?

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Christian Louboutin

Christian Louboutin with his trademark red sole shoes

One brilliant designer – and there are only a few on that mantel in Pakistan – will create a pattern that has the potential to stir up a nationwide trend. Consider the multi-panel ankle length shirt reintroduced by the design-duo Sana Safinaz two years ago as an example. Within months, most designers in Pakistan had reinterpreted the paneled shirt in their own collections. High-street brands then created inexpensive versions of the high-end design.

Soon enough, every garage designer was mastering the trend and, ultimately, it filtered down to tailors who could copy each design in the coveted Sana Safinaz brochure to perfection. A pattern, which retailed in Sana Safinaz’s export collection for over 30,000 rupees, could be enjoyed for a fraction of the price at a high-street store like Unbeatables or Maria B. The artisans at Kehkashan Market or Ghousia Market, Karachi, would be willing to replicate it for even less. Completing the circle, Sana and Safinaz created their own version of the design in lawn. Retailing at an average of 3,500 rupees, the Sana Safinaz lawn following could be described as nothing short of mass hysteria, providing the perfect feeding frenzy for plagiarising sharks.

As far as being inspirational is concerned, Sana and Safinaz concede that concept piracy is raging across the fashion smorgasbord and they were flattered as opposed to appalled that they had started a trend. At the other end of the table, however, replicating and black marketing of their lawn prints was just as unacceptable.

Shamaeel was equally flattered when her highly appreciated miniature collection diffused along the same path. Soon enough, designers like Neelo Allawala were depicting Mughal miniatures in their collections and embroidered fabric retailers like Threads and Motifs were happily making and selling panels of miniature prints too. “I feel the success of a design is in its proliferation,” Shamaeel quotes Issey Miyake when questioned on whether she was threatened or flattered by conceptual pirates. “I do not only design for a dinner of two,” she adds. “That is what I feel as far as the miniature collection is concerned. Beyond concept piracy, plagiarism needs to be combated in fashion. Taking original work – there is a limit to what you can call inspirational – and plagiarising it, whether it is a designer or a website doing it, is nothing short of highway robbery.”

The utility of a concept and the pattern a designer has created, is his/her property, and the replication of that enters illegal territory. Conceptual piracy, which is imperative to the making of a trend (and is proudly practised worldwide, for example when a high-street brand like the Spanish clothing store Zara feeds off Prada), becomes ugly when it turns into the road marked plagiarism. And plagiarism is all too rampant in fashion, more so in Pakistan in the absence and non-implementation of copyright laws.

To clarify, it is extremely difficult to copyright or patent a design in fashion to begin with. The Schumer Bill, was passed in America by Senator Charles E Schumer in collaboration with the Council of Fashion Designers of America last year “to provide the protection for unique designs.” But while it protected designers it also made it almost impossible for them to prove the uniqueness of their designs.

“The proposed legislation provides very limited intellectual property protection to the most original design,” Cathy Horyn wrote in the New York Times in 2010 before the bill was passed into a law. “A designer who claims that his work has been copied must show that his design provides ‘a unique, distinguishable, non-trivial and non-utilitarian variation over prior designs.’ And it must be proven by the designer that the copy is ‘substantially identical’ to the original so as to be mistaken for it. Factors than cannot be used in determining the uniqueness of a design are color, patterns and a graphic element,” she explained.

To drive that point home, an American court recently ruled against Christian Louboutin who had claimed rights on red soles and sued Yves Saint Laurent for including four red-soled shoes in his latest resort-wear collection. The red soles – heart, soul and signature of every Louboutin shoe – were apparently not unique enough to be claimed by Louboutin. By these standards, not a single designer in Pakistan would be able to lay claim to inventing the heel. In the absence of active copyright laws and documentation of original designs, it is impossible to identify the origin of anyone’s design.

The cost of copyrighting a design is another problem. At approximately half a million rupees required to patent a print or outfit, not every print can be legally protected. Sana and Safinaz patent their best prints every year but even that is inconsequential as by tweaking or changing several insignificant elements in the print, plagiarists can argue it is not an imitation.

The kind of plagiarism we see in Pakistan borders on criminal activity and not just conceptual piracy or inspiration. For starters, there are designers (big names at that) who send their ‘agents’ out in the market to purchase avant-garde designs that can be replicated in their own studios. Sonya Battla, who has installed several CCTV cameras to protect designs at her flagship store in Karachi, faces this problem ever too often when ‘friends’ of certain top designers come in and buy several pieces from her latest collection at the same time. She can tell these women won’t be wearing the clothes simply by the fact that they pick up whatever size is available. But Battla says she has learnt to live with the problem, “because one cannot combat or stop them. The best way is to take it as a compliment…One tries to ignore the plagiarists as far as possible.” What about the financial implications? “Yes, it does effect your business to a certain degree as exclusivity of a design and the freshness of a concept are both highly valued in the world of fashion. Plagiarism makes it common but it is an aspect of the business globally. One learns to deal with it.”

The internet has made fashion plagiarism much simpler. There are numerous websites that display album after album of “popular fashions from Pakistan,” flaunt pictures of designer collections and offer to make the garment for as much (or as little) as 500 pounds, delivery included. Websites like HinaB.com, Bargello.com, Deemasfashion.com are just three out of thousands of similar websites flooding the internet boasting of quality that they cannot always deliver. The Deemas website, for example, claims that it “offers replica dress designs from famous dress designers from Asia on affordable prices.” But when clients receive imperfect imitations of a Nomi Ansari outfit, for example, they undoubtedly feel disappointed and let down. Their lack of awareness misguides them into taking this counterfeit operation seriously. “These websites are criminal and uncontrollable,” says Ansari.

“In many cases clients know they are ordering fakes but they are all too willing to pay less for an outfit that looks like an original,” Ansari resigns to the disturbing fate of his collections. “I’ve had young brides go abroad after getting married and then taking orders on their bridal and trousseaux clothes. How does one control that?” He explains: “We tried to track down HinaB but it was impossible. She apparently has a huge operation on Tariq Road in Karachi and her workers only know her as ‘madam’. No one has met her and she retails via the internet.”

Ansari says he is accepting of “Ghousia Market artisans who replicate us as they are poor and their customers don’t overlap our clientele”. But, he adds that, “these websites are disgusting as they feed off us and limit our creativity. I avoid updating my website and doing creative shoots because they immediately end up on these websites”.

Taking the crime a step further are websites that promise to source the original outfit, charging (usually expatriate and South-Asian clients) a hefty sum that never reaches the pocket of the designer. “Even if they are not sold as originals,” says Ansari, “buyers know whose copies they are purchasing. They are as much to blame as the plagiarists. This is an uncontrollable web of crime.”

Sana Safinaz have realised that the plagiarism of lawn prints is the most damaging in the copycat book. They print around 80,000 lawn suits a season and the demand, which is much higher, is thus met by the black market that goes to great lengths to replicate the copies as authentic. “A certain small mill owner in Lahore copied our prints and took our catalogue, and went to the extent of hiring our muse (Neha) to make the copies look authentic,” Safinaz says.

“There’s a difference between inspired and copied,” she explains. “Our ready-to-wear may have inspired a trend but our lawn fabric is copied.” She also recounts how a “leading fabric company [the brand they had been working with] copied borders from our export line. They were featured in our catalogue and were replicated by that fabric company as it had access to our studio. We actually caught them with cameras and video cameras. We have also identified seven shopkeepers caught selling fake Sana Safinaz prints. You can’t tell the difference; only the quality is inferior and our clients bring the complaints to us.”

Even when she says that plagiarism is “very damaging” she regrets that there is no accountability in Pakistan. “We’ve had the shopkeepers arrested but they spend a few hours in jail and then continue copying.”