KARDO and the Subtle Art of Making against the Grain of Speed - A Conversation with Founder Rikki Kher.

There is a particular kind of clothing that does not seek attention so much as it alters the conditions under which attention becomes possible. It does not announce itself, nor does it compete within the familiar economies of novelty and noise. Instead, it waits - quietly, almost obstinately - for the wearer to meet it halfway. KARDO belongs to this rarer category. Not because it is “handmade,” a term that has been dulled by overuse, but because it treats making itself as a form of thought.

In an industry increasingly governed by acceleration - collections collapsing into drops, garments reduced to images before they are ever worn - KARDO proposes something more difficult to sustain: continuity. Not as repetition, but as a sustained relationship between material, maker, and wearer. One is reminded, perhaps unexpectedly, of Hannah Arendt’s distinction between labour and work - the former cyclical and consumptive, the latter durable, capable of entering the world and remaining there. KARDO’s garments seem to aspire to the latter. They are not simply produced; they are positioned to endure.

What distinguishes the brand is not its reliance on traditional Indian textile techniques - though these are central - but the way it resists converting them into spectacle. There is no overt didacticism, no insistence that the wearer recognise the labour embedded within the cloth. Instead, that labour is allowed to persist as a kind of quiet density. Handwoven khadi, natural indigo, jamdani structures, block prints - these are not aesthetic gestures so much as conditions that shape the garment from within. The result is a form of minimalism that is anything but empty. If anything, it is saturated - each surface holding more than it immediately reveals.

This is where KARDO becomes genuinely interesting. The brand operates in a space that feels less like fashion and more like translation - not between languages, but between temporalities. The past is not revived, nor is it nostalgically preserved. It is worked through, altered by the present, and returned in a form that feels at once familiar and slightly estranged. There is an echo here of Walter Benjamin’s notion of the “afterlife” of objects, where meaning does not reside in origin, but in the way something continues to be reinterpreted across time.

Quiet clothes for loud summers.

At the centre of this process is Rikki Kher, founder and creative director, whose practice over the past decade has unfolded with a kind of deliberate restraint. Based in New Delhi, Kher has cultivated long-term relationships with artisan communities across India, working directly with weavers, dyers, and embroiderers to produce textiles that are not simply sourced, but co-developed. His ONExONE production model - where each garment is cut and completed by a single tailor - introduces a rare continuity of authorship. The garment is no longer an aggregate of anonymous labour, but a traceable act, carrying with it the imprint of a single hand.

There is something almost literary in this approach. Each piece reads less like a statement and more like a sentence - structured, precise, and quietly open-ended. The detail is never excessive, but it is always intentional. A seam placed slightly off-centre, a pocket that reveals itself only through use, a shift in proportion that unsettles the expected silhouette - these are not flourishes, but calibrations. One is tempted to think of Roland Barthes here, particularly his notion of the punctum - that small, often overlooked detail that punctures the surface and draws the viewer in.

To speak with Kher, then, is less to extract a philosophy than to observe a way of working - one that privileges process over proclamation, and intuition over declaration. What follows is not a manifesto, but a series of reflections on how garments come into being, how they occupy space, and how they might continue to hold meaning in a landscape increasingly defined by its disposability.

KARDO’s aesthetic blends minimalism with unexpected details. How do you balance restraint and surprise in your design process without tipping into overt maximalism?

Rikki Kher: For me, restraint comes naturally from the way we work with materials and craft. Many of the fabrics we develop already carry a lot of character - whether it’s a handwoven khadi, a subtle jamdani structure, or a naturally dyed surface. Because the textile itself holds depth, the garment doesn’t need excessive intervention. The surprise usually comes from one small decision - a shift in proportion, an unusual pocket placement, or a detail hidden inside the garment. When every element has a reason to exist, the balance tends to find itself.

Your collections often feel sculptural, almost architectural. How do spatial concepts or physical structures inform your approach to garment construction?

Rikki Kher: I’ve always been interested in how clothing occupies space around the body. A garment isn’t just a flat object - it has volume, structure, and movement. Sometimes a physical environment is an interesting point of departure: the geometry of a courtyard, the repetition of columns, the way light moves through an old building. Those spatial references often translate into proportion, balance, or the way seams are placed. But the intention is never to make something rigid.

Sustainability is increasingly central to fashion narratives. How does KARDO reconcile innovative design ambitions with material consciousness and production ethics?

Rikki Kher: When design begins with material awareness, sustainability becomes less of a declared objective and more of a natural outcome. Most of our fabrics come from small weaving clusters across India, and the pace of craft naturally encourages a more considered approach to production. Innovation for us doesn’t come from pushing volume or complexity, but from exploring materials, techniques, and collaborations with artisans.

There’s a subtle dialogue between streetwear codes and high-concept tailoring in your work. How do you navigate these seemingly divergent cultural languages?

Rikki Kher: I’ve never seen them as opposites. Tailoring has a long history of structure and refinement, while streetwear is rooted in movement, culture, and everyday life. In reality, people live somewhere between the two. What interests me is taking the discipline of tailoring and allowing it to exist in garments that feel relaxed and wearable.

Your seasonal narratives often evoke moods rather than themes. How do you translate abstract concepts - like atmosphere or memory - into tangible fabrics, textures, and silhouettes?

The architect behind the noise KARDO never makes.

Rikki Kher: I wouldn’t say we set out to translate something abstract. For me it’s more instinctive than analytical. A lot of it happens during sampling. Most collections start with fabrics - visiting weaving clusters, developing new textiles, or rediscovering something we’ve worked with before.

Even the limitations of a particular process can influence what and how we design. As those fabrics begin to take shape, certain silhouettes start to feel right for them. When that happens, the collection begins to carry a mood without us needing to define it too strictly.

At the same time, textiles can already hold a sense of memory or atmosphere within them. Certain fabrics and craft traditions come with such rich associations and emotional weight. A cloth like khadi, for instance, is not just a material choice—it carries ideas of labour, self-reliance, and a particular moment in Indian history, becoming, in that sense, a statement about where we come from and what shapes us.

So sometimes the mood of a collection comes not from building a narrative around the garment, but from recognising what it evokes and keeping that meaning, both cultural and personal, visible in a contemporary way.

Collaboration can shift a brand’s trajectory. Are there any disciplines outside fashion - art, music, architecture - that you see as particularly generative for KARDO’s future explorations?

Rikki Kher: I’m often drawn to all the disciplines where material and process are central - architecture, sculpture, even certain craft traditions. They approach form with a different set of constraints and sensibilities, so they give us more perspective to play with. Collaborations with artists or musicians can also introduce a more intuitive or emotional dimension to the work. Say, our recent one with my dear friend and IndoWarehouse DJ, Kunal Merchant. These exchanges often open new directions that may not necessarily emerge within fashion alone.

Color is often understated yet deliberate in your collections. How do you approach chromatic storytelling, and what role does negative space or silence play in your palette choices?

Rikki Kher: Colour for us often begins with the fabric itself - especially when working with natural dyes or handwoven materials. Those processes naturally produce colours that feel more considered. I like palettes and visual spacing that have the texture of the cloth be noticed rather than overshadowed. So, many of our textiles carry subtle tonal variations, and that modulation can easily be lost if the palette becomes too loud. In that sense, restraint becomes an important part of chromatic storytelling.

Longevity in fashion is as much cultural as material. How do you envision KARDO garments aging - not just physically, but in relevance and resonance within wider cultural discourse?

Rikki Kher: The physical aging of a garment is one part of the story, and I like that - the fabric softens, the surface changes, and the piece begins to reflect the life of the person wearing it. Culturally however, longevity is not only about whether a garment lasts, but whether it continues to hold meaning as the conversation around fashion changes. With KARDO, the intention has always been to make garments that carry a point of view. Rather than reacting to fashion’s constant need for newness, the aim is to make clothes that represent a dialogue between Indian craft and contemporary menswear. In a wider sense, I would hope our work continues to contribute to a more confident understanding of Indian design - not as heritage or nostalgia preserved at a distance, but as clothing rooted in place and process that remains modern, open, current, and unapologetic.

Narrative is crucial in editorial presentation. How do you see storytelling, photography, and digital curation amplifying or reframing the impact of your designs?

Rikki Kher: Clothing rarely exists in isolation. Storytelling helps provide context, as photography, movement, and environment can reveal aspects of the design that may not be immediately visible on a hanger. Our garments are closely connected to materials, craft processes, and the regions where they are made. Photography and editorial allow those layers to become visible, hopefully deepening the viewer’s understanding of our garments, story and collection.

Looking forward, do you see KARDO evolving more through experimental forms, wearable pragmatism, or a hybrid approach that challenges conventional categorization entirely?

Rikki Kher: Fashion often separates experimentation and wearability, but I think the most interesting work happens where those two ideas meet. KARDO naturally sits in that hybrid space. Experimentation emerges through textile development, construction techniques, and new collaborations with artisans and artists, but our intention is, and always will be, to create garments people can genuinely wear, and return to again and again.

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Words and questiomns by AW.

Answers courtesy of Rikki Kher.

Photos courtesy of KARDO.