When Nature Prints on the Fabric

I met Smi Aggarwal last month at a circular business initiative I am part of, Real Circularity. I heard her talking about her family’s Botanical Textile Workshop and the fabrics they create using flowers, leaves, and garden waste to create various botanical imprints on textiles. She showed us pictures of the beautiful and carefully made fabrics from their workshop and shared some of the struggles and realities that are often present when working materials that respect the rhythms of nature. Her passion and commitment to circularity were unmistakable. I asked for an interview, and was so pleased she accepted.

We talked about natural dyes and sustainable practices, but the deeper thread was something else: what happens when the people making our clothes are invisible to the people wearing them. What we lose when we don’t see the full picture.

Why This Conversation Matters

As I’ve been building Anekho, it’s become increasingly important to me to bring conscious fashion shoppers closer to the conversations happening within the sustainable fashion industry. My hope is to give them a glimpse of the different realities and the beauty that are part of it and to help them see both the complexity and the solutions, which are equally important.

When I set out to write this piece, a question kept echoing: What can be done to help people connect with their clothes and see the hands behind their garments?

I’m a believer that if we connect with our clothes, we can form a relationship with them. And thus, we make a better effort to care for them. That care is key to steer us away from mindless overconsumption habits. But I also believe conscious fashion shoppers still lack the right information to care enough about their fashion purchases. A deeper view of the hands and practices involved in making their clothes would allow for a more meaningful connection. Education alone isn’t enough, it doesn’t always reach us when it matters, and unless it ties to something personal, it rarely moves us to act.

So perhaps what’s needed is human connection, communicated at the moment of choice.

The Work

Smi is based in Paris now. She’s been there for over six years, collaborating with her family’s workshop in Punjab while working more broadly across textile production, supplier relations, and digital platforms.

The Botanical Textile Workshop started with her father experimentation with flowers and other botanical elements and their interaction with fabrics. The practice isn’t common. India is known for its natural dyeing processes, but this specific approach, using seasonal flowers, fallen leaves, vegetables, and garden waste to create botanical imprints on fabric, isn’t widely practiced.

The flowers are seasonal. They take into account the whole ecosystem around them. Nothing planted is unnatural to the surrounding environment. The leaves and twigs they use often come from trees that are much older, sometimes 15 to 20 years old, many from their own garden.

“Many of our practices naturally align with regenerative principles,” Smi explained. “The same soil supports the plants we use for textile experimentation as well as the food we eat. There’s a strong continuity between the garden, the materials, and the workshop.”

I asked if this makes the entire process regenerative and sustainable.

Not automatically, she clarified, but many of their practices move in that direction. They work with natural fibers, use stained natural deadstock fabrics that would otherwise go to waste, source botanical materials seasonally, reuse plant waste, and return most residues to the garden. It’s a process they continue to improve.

The fabrics themselves are natural and biodegradable, cotton, wool, silk, pashmina, all native to India. Six people work at the workshop: three women and three men. Naresh is one of the oldest employees, part of the team for twenty years now. They do weaving and printing in-house.

It’s slow work. It has to be.

Smi has seen textile production her whole life because of her parents’ workshop. These fabrics are very special to her. The work is tied to her family, her roots. She saw the care her parents put into the workshop, and the sometimes unfortunate realities of being on that side of the supply chain.

What Gets Lost

I asked her what kinds of injustices she’s seen or experienced in that part of the supply chain.

Lack of transparency in price. Workshops getting the lowest cut. Imbalance of power. Covid, for example, was devastating for workshops.

They work directly with some brands now, but the path there hasn’t been easy. Trends move too fast. There’s not enough time for workshops, especially those working within nature’s boundaries, to catch up. It’s difficult to find crafts that can work at that speed. Sometimes a lack of resources makes it difficult to find brands at the right time.

Often, you end up having to rely on agents. Agents can be helpful as they have time to communicate with brands, they have contacts, and they put you out there. But transparency in pricing is often an issue. The brands don’t always know how much the workshop actually gets paid.

Smi attends textile conventions in Europe when she can. It gives them exposure. She also believes in the power of connecting one-on-one with people. That kind of relationship-building matters, even if it takes time and resources.

Digital Product Passports and What They Could Be

I asked Smi what she thinks about Digital Product Passports.

“There’s still too much focus on certifications,” she said. “Certifications are good, but they don’t tell the whole story. They’re not complete.”

DPPs can be taken as a compliance checklist. Or they can be an opportunity to expand supplier-brand relationships and strengthen them.

The data required for DPP compliance isn’t always easy to gather. Communication between manufacturers and brands is often fragmented, which makes transparency harder to achieve. But that gap could become an opportunity. If brands are asking workshops for more information, that’s also a moment to offer more support to the people further down the supply chain.

“Workshops and those at the bottom of the supply chain need more support from brands,” Smi said. “There’s limited resources or time for workshops to work on using technology to help end users care. Workshops can learn how to better position themselves and allocate resources to show the benefits and beauty of the craftsmanship of their products to connect more with end users. Brands can facilitate this. DPPs can be a tool to connect craftsmanship and show people the hands behind their clothes.”

Smi pointed out that many of the current discussions around DPP regulations are still largely shaped around industrial supply chains. “In practice, stronger communication across the supply chain will likely be key,” she said. “It may also require both brands and policymakers to recognize the realities of smaller workshops and craft-based production. With the right support and guidance, many workshops would be willing to organize and share the necessary information.”

I asked if she’d experienced brands providing this kind of support yet.

Not directly, she answered. But the need for it is becoming clearer as transparency requirements increase.

As compliance pressure builds, brands will have to make a choice: treat DPPs as a checklist, or take them to the next level. Smi thinks this will reveal which brands are more committed.

What She Wishes You Knew

At the end of our conversation, I asked Smi what she wishes end consumers, users, would know about the fabrics she represents.

“When you buy a garment, you’re not just buying a product. It’s an entire process with many people’s dedicated work involved. Think about how your purchases affect the world. Think about the regional practices.”

It’s a simple answer that holds everything.

The fabrics her family makes carry the ecosystem they come from, the flowers, the soil, the season, the hands that wove and printed them. When you buy a garment made from one of these fabrics, you’re not just buying the product. You’re buying into a relationship with that place, those people, that care.

Where This Leaves Us

Smi and I both believe that real systemic change in this industry requires collaboration. Not top-down mandates or suppliers struggling alone at the bottom of the chain.

Brands, for example, working collaboratively with workshops like Smi’s could show end users how fabrics like these are made. Showing the work, thoughtfulness, and care they take to be unique and enhance beauty in those who wear them. To help create a meaningful connection between the end user and garments.

We both agree that perfectly sustainable is an illusion, it is not about perfection, it’s all about consistent progress and commitment towards change.