HELLO! India Exclusive: Maximiliano Modesti on why India must claim its place in global luxury

A woman embroidering chikankari in Lucknow, Maximiliano Modesti says, can earn an average of ₹3,500 a month. A Dries Van Noten T-shirt can sell for around ₹5 lakh. Couture dresses can command US50,000. Schiaparelli gowns, he adds, can reach US500,000. Somewhere between those figures lies the uncomfortable economics of luxury fashion — and the reason Maximiliano has spent the better part of three decades arguing that India needs to claim more of what it creates.

“We always romanticise fashion, craft, and luxury,” he says. “But it is a business.”

For 33 years, the French-Italian fashion and craft entrepreneur has built bridges between India’s artisan communities and some of the world’s biggest luxury houses. Through Les Ateliers 2M, the production and craft platform he founded, he has worked with renowned names like Hermès, Alaïa, Chloé, and Dries Van Noten, while the Kalhath Institute in Lucknow, which he established in 2016, works to strengthen the livelihoods and business understanding of India’s artisans.

Dressed casually and between meetings, Maximiliano spends much of the next hour over a video call, speaking with us about craft as an industry that supports millions of livelihoods and feeds some of the world’s most powerful luxury houses. Yet, he remains frustrated that the system around it has not caught up.

“To be honest, my first concern is that right now, there is no political will in India,” he asserts. “Any country in the world with 60 to 70 million artisans would have a [dedicated] Ministry of Craft, but that is not the case [in India].”

For Maximiliano, this is not a new argument. He’s been making versions of it since he first arrived in India in 1993 as a student of fashion management at the French Institute of Fashion. He had come wanting to understand what had happened to India, once one of the biggest buyers of Parisian couture. His initial assessment was blunt: “The country is not ready to welcome luxury brands. It was way too early.”

But something else stopped him.

“I had never seen craft being so vibrant, so alive, than in India in 1993. I returned to India because I needed to confront myself, experiment with this craft, and express my creativity through that craft,” he recalls the decision that would become the organising principle of his career.

Around the same time, he met Azzedine Alaïa, the Tunisian-born couturier whose designs were celebrated for wrapping around the body like second skin. Alaïa offered him a job. Maximiliano, however, wanted to return to India. So, the designer gave him fabrics, knitwear, and the freedom to “create” as he pleased

For four months, Maximiliano experimented with block printing, weaving, and embroidery. When he returned to Paris with his samples, Alaïa liked what he saw. Maximiliano stayed with him until 1998, learning what was possible when Indian craft was treated not simply as a technique but as a creative language.

Then there was his meeting with Jean-Louis Dumas, former CEO of Hermès, in 1996. Jean-Louis had asked Maximiliano to design his first embroidery for the house. And Stella McCartney followed in 1999. Eventually, through Les Ateliers 2M, Maximiliano’s work became part of the machinery that fanned global luxury.

THE FIGHT FOR ‘MADE IN INDIA’

The more deeply he entered that world, the more apparent another problem became: The craft was travelling further than its credit. He remembers telling the CEO of Chloé that a garment almost entirely made in India should carry a ‘Made in India’ label. The logic seemed obvious to him. For centuries, European royalty had coveted Indian textiles and embroidery. Yet, the history of that craftsmanship, he argues, was increasingly being detached from the products that emerged from it.

“There’s a lack of historical reference that makes people forget that during the 17th and 18th centuries, the most beautiful fabrics, the most exceptional embroideries already came from India,” Maximiliano stresses. “Everybody forgets about that!”

Isabel Marant was among the first designers with whom he worked to consistently put ‘Made in India’ tags on her garments, followed by Dries Van Noten. Then came a moment he still considers significant: In 2005, Hermès began adding ‘Made in India’ labels on its embroidered scarves. “It was really a recognition of the historical past of Indian craft, the craft to come, and the future of Indian craft.”

COURTING RECOGNITION

With growing visibility for Indian craft on international runways, that question of acknowledgement has become even more urgent now. Prada’s Kolhapuri-inspired sandals triggered a debate over cultural appropriation after the Italian house initially failed to attribute their Indian connection. Ralph Lauren’s Fall 2026 Paris show featured earrings widely recognised as jhumkas, while the brand described them as “vintage accessories.” And Jonathan Anderson’s Dior couture drew on the work of American artist Lynda Benglis, whose practice was deeply influenced by India, incorporating antique chintz and jewellery made by Jaipuri artisans, including carved green onyx evoking Rajasthan’s emerald traditions.

For Maximiliano, the distinction between appreciation and appropriation isn’t complicated.

“Appreciation is simple: You acknowledge where your inspiration comes from. You say it loud, and you say it clear. And you put a ‘Made in India’ tag on the product. Appropriation, by contrast, is what happens when that origin is concealed. You fake the origin of the product, and you put a ‘Made in Italy’ instead of a ‘Made in India.’”

His vexation is not directed at international fashion houses alone. If anything, he seems equally impatient with India for failing to build the structures that would allow its own craft to protect itself. “Why doesn’t India have a strong fashion couture federation that calls out the people who are twisting the game, who are not acknowledging the origin of their products?” he asks.

“If you don’t defend the ‘Made in India’ label, how do you expect these people to be respectful of it?”

In 2026, Maximiliano finds himself having essentially the same conversation he had been having in the late 1990s. “How is it possible that 30 years later, we’re still on the same subject?” he says, exasperated.

THE BUSINESS OF CRAFT

As a result, he sees education as the way forward. A decade since establishing the Kalhath Institute in Lucknow, Maximiliano today champions the work of over one lakh artisans, both men and women, through the place.

The idea was not to teach artisans how to embroider. They already knew how. What they needed, he smiles, was to ensure a greater understanding of the ecosystem around their craft, and, above all, a better share of its economics.

“The key factor of all this is the revenue. How much money do you make out of your craft? If I don’t make enough money, then I will stop that craft and do something else.”

Then comes that ₹3,500 figure. The number is almost jarring when juxtaposed with the exorbitant tags the luxury industry commands — the same industry that relies on this very ecosystem of skill. Maximiliano talks about the couture market without pretending that luxury prices are inherently problematic. In fact, he sees the wealth at the top of the pyramid as part of what allows the craft economy to survive.

“We ask who buys ₹50,000 dresses? Right now, we cannot produce enough in front of the demand for those dresses.”
Making the point that matters to him, Maximiliano adds: “I’m happy that this social elite nurtures an immense community of artisans in India.”

The question, then, is not whether luxury should exist. It is whether the people whose labour makes luxury possible should be allowed to participate meaningfully in the value they generate.

That is also why Maximiliano’s ambitions for the Kalhath Institute extend beyond Lucknow — he wants to take its model into other craft communities, including block printing in Jaipur, and eventually put artisans and their children in charge.

"We are doing it for ourselves. So, it’s the youth, the kids of these artisans, who need to take control of these initiatives now and run them themselves.”

Even technology, which he initially viewed with suspicion, has become part of the conversation. At first, Maximiliano was afraid of artificial intelligence, but he sees it differently now.

“AI is a tool that you need to master. It will never be able to replace the business of desire.”

Perhaps that is the thread connecting all of Maximiliano’s arguments. Craft is not an artefact of India’s past. It is a business, a source of employment, creativity, and desire for the global luxury industry. What India needs, he believes, is to understand its value and then defend it.

After 33 years, Maximiliano is still fighting for essentially the same thing: an India that recognises the value of what it has, protects the people who make it, and demands to be credited for it.

“There’s so much work to be done, so I don’t think I’ll get bored for the next 10, 20 or 30 years!”

This story was featured in the Vol 1. Issue 10 of HELLO! India. For more exclusive stories, subscribe to the magazine here.