Before I began this journey three or four years ago, I wore synthetic clothing without thinking much about it. It was everywhere, it was easy, and it felt normal. Then I started wearing cotton. And once I did, there was no going back.
The first time I reached again for a synthetic piece after months of natural fibers, my body reacted before my mind did.
Oh no, I thought. Just no.
The way it felt, the way it held heat, the way it disconnected me from my own physical comfort—it was unmistakable. That moment stayed with me.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about clothing culture as we move into 2026. In these economic times, the way middle-class families think about clothing feels like it’s shifting. People are weighing price more carefully, yes, but also quality, longevity, and meaning.
There’s a growing awareness, almost a collective noticing, of the cracks in the system.
Vintage and pre-1990s Western clothing still holding up decades later, while polyester blends sell for $200 and barely last a season.
It feels like people are beginning to see through the matrix.
Here are a few things I’m noticing right now:
01. People are stretching their budgets for quality.
I’ve done this myself. I recently bought a jacket from an Italian brand—beautiful wool, possibly cashmere, incredibly light. It cost far more than I usually spend. And I don’t regret it for a second.
I love that jacket. I reach for it often. It feels considered.
I think people are realizing that if something truly matters to you, if it fits your life and your body and your sense of self, you don’t need ten versions of it. You need one. One piece that lasts. One piece that feels right.
02. People want to understand what they’re paying for.
I’m sure many of you remember the conversation around the $630 boots Rama Duwaji wore to the NYC mayoral inauguration. Alongside the outrage, there was also something else: people breaking down why the boots cost what they did—materials, labor, ethics, craftsmanship. That curiosity feels important.
One thing I’m working toward for Devi 2026 is transparent pricing.
I want you to see the full picture: how much printing costs, how much stitching costs, how many hands are involved, and why. No mystery. No curtain.
I’m also deeply aware that anything we offer has to earn its place in your wardrobe. It needs to be multifunctional or genuinely unique—something you can’t easily find elsewhere. Pieces rooted in heritage, made by artisans, with prints that speak to you. Our goal is to keep our pricing intentional, honest, and aligned with the care that goes into each piece.
03. People are finding creative ways to make old things feel new.
Scroll through social media and you’ll see it everywhere: thrift hauls, thrift flips, people shopping their parents’ or grandparents’ closets. Each year it’s called something different: de-influencing, mindful dressing, intentional wardrobes. But the impulse underneath feels the same.
A quiet resistance to excess.
These are the questions I find myself asking, again and again:
What’s already in your closet that hasn’t been worn in a while?
What could be styled differently, layered differently, returned to?
How can your wardrobe support your life now (especially for work-from-home days), without reaching for something new?
And if you were to add just one new piece this year, what would truly add something meaningful? Something wearable. Something lasting.
I’d love to hear what you’re noticing in clothing culture right now.
Always learning. Always listening.
With Love,
Rashmin K. Joshi