When you work at a place like Orly, you start hearing fabric names the way people talk about old friends. Linen. Cotton. Silk. And then there’s Eri silk, always mentioned with a pause, like it deserves one.

At first, I didn’t get it.

It doesn’t have the glossy drama of traditional silk. It doesn’t try to look festive from across the room. But then I heard the story about how it derived and it has my respect now.

The Story:

The interesting part is most silk in India like Banarasi or Mulberry silk, came from China, brought by traders who kept the process secret. But deep in the Assam hills, tribal communities discovered wild silkworms feeding on castor plants. Something which is completely different from the domesticated ones. These worms were bigger, stronger, and their cocoons couldn't be boiled and reeled like Chinese silk.

As the tribes were Buddhist and Vaishnavite, they believed in Ahimsa(non-violence). So, they waited. They let the moth break free naturally, then collected the empty cocoon and hand-spun the fibres. That's how Eri silk was born—not from trade, not from conquest, but from respect for life.

The word 'Eri' comes from the Assamese word 'era'—the castor plant the worms fed on. It is also called "peace silk" or "ahimsa silk" because of how it is generated.

I'm not going to lie, I didn't care about this part initially. I just wanted a kurta that wouldn't make me sweat. But after learning about it, it does feel better knowing the fabric has a more ethical production process.

Why It Doesn’t Shine Like Other Silks:

Most silks are prized for their sheen.
Eri silk is prized for its restraint.

Because the fibres are shorter and spun, the surface remains matte. This is exactly why it works so well for men’s ethnicwear as it looks refined without looking flashy.

I’ve learnt that this lack of shine isn’t a flaw.
It’s the point.

It allows the focus to stay on:

• the silhouette
• the fall of the fabric
• the quality of construction

Not the gloss.

How Eri Silk Ages (And Why That Matters)

Most fabrics are at their best on day one.
Eri silk isn’t.

What I’ve learnt over time is that Eri silk behaves less like a “special occasion fabric” and more like something that builds a relationship with the wearer.

When it’s new, it holds a certain structure, clean, composed, almost reserved. But with wear, the fibres relax. The fabric softens. The kurta begins to move more naturally with the body instead of sitting on top of it.

This happens because Eri silk is spun rather than reeled. The fibres have a natural irregularity, which allows them to respond to movement and repeated use instead of resisting it. You don’t see this change dramatically in the mirror, you feel it.

And that’s important.

Aging well doesn’t mean fading or losing form. With Eri silk, it means becoming more comfortable without becoming careless. The fabric retains its character while letting go of stiffness. It starts to drape better. It creases less harshly. It feels broken-in, not worn out.

What This Fabric Taught Me

Some fabrics shout luxury.
Some fabrics earn it slowly.

Eri silk belongs to the second category.

The more I learn about men’s ethnicwear, the more I realise that the best fabrics don’t chase trends or attention. They stay consistent, dependable, and deeply wearable.

Eri silk doesn’t try to impress.
And somehow, that’s exactly why it does.

-Arkajeet