Here's a confession:

I used to be that guy who'd wear the most uncomfortable outfit to weddings just because it looked good in the mirror.

Two months ago, I had my cousin's wedding in Jaipur. Three-day event, peak summer, outdoor venues. I packed my "impressive" kurtas, the heavy textured one that photographs well, the silk blend that looks expensive, the embroidered piece that screams "I put effort into this."

Day one, I wore the silk blend to the mehendi. Looked sharp for exactly 30 minutes. Then Rajasthan heat kicked in. I spent the entire function standing near fans, avoiding dancing, and basically being miserable. Got good photos though, so I guess that's what matters? (Spoiler: it didn't matter.)

Day two was the sangeet. I was supposed to wear the embroidered kurta but I just... couldn't. The thought of being uncomfortable again made me genuinely anxious. So I grabbed this random cream cotton kurta from the bottom of my suitcase, something I'd bought years ago for like ₹2,800 and barely remembered owning.

My immediate thought was "I'm going to look underdressed." Wore it anyway because I prioritized not suffering over looking Instagram-ready.

Plot twist: I had the best time. Danced without worrying about sweat stains. Sat comfortably during the ceremony. Actually enjoyed the wedding instead of just enduring it. And somehow, I got more compliments on this "basic" kurta than I did on my expensive silk one the day before.

When I got home, I checked what that comfortable kurta actually was. Tag said: "100% Addi Cotton Handloom."

Turns out, comfort doesn't have to look cheap. Sometimes it just looks right.

What Is Addi Cotton (And Why Nobody Warned Me About It?)

After Jaipur, I became mildly obsessed with understanding why that kurta felt so different. Like, why was I actually comfortable in 38-degree heat when my "premium" kurtas made me want to tear my clothes off?

Did the late night Google spiral. Turns out Addi cotton is a traditional handloom weaving technique from Karnataka. The word Addi refers to the horizontal weft threads in the weave. It's done on pit looms with a specific structure that makes the fabric both durable and breathable.

The threads are thicker than regular cotton, giving it that distinct weight and texture. It's not trying to feel soft and silky like those marketing heavy "premium blends" it just does its job without pretending to be something else.

Here's what changed my entire perspective on ethnic wear:

Comfort and style aren't opposites. We've been conditioned to think looking good means suffering a little (or a lot).

·       Heavy fabrics = formal.

·       Uncomfortable = impressive.

·       Breathable = casual.

Addi cotton proves that's garbage. You can look put-together AND be comfortable. You can wear something all day without constantly thinking about your outfit. You can dance, eat, sit on the floor, exist like a normal human without your clothes punishing you for it.

That Jaipur wedding was the first time I wore ethnic wear and forgot I was wearing ethnic wear. Just enjoyed the event instead of managing my outfit crisis. Turns out that's what good fabric does, it doesn't demand your attention, it just works quietly in the background.

 

Addi Cotton vs "Premium" Marketing Lies (My Three-Day Reality Check)

That Jaipur wedding became an unintentional fabric comparison experiment. Day one was my expensive silk blend kurta. Day two and three were the Addi cotton one. Same weather, same activity level, very different experiences.

The silk blend "premium" kurta: Looked incredible in the hotel mirror. Felt luxurious when I put it on. Within an hour, it was clinging to my back. By afternoon, I had visible sweat marks. By evening, the fabric looked dull and I looked miserable. The photos came out nice though, which somehow felt like a consolation prize for suffering.

The Addi cotton kurta: Looked simple, almost boring when I first put it on. No shine, no dramatic texture, just clean and understated. But throughout the sangeet - which involved actual dancing, outdoor heat, hours of standing, I stayed comfortable. The fabric breathed. It didn't cling. By the end of the night, I still looked decent enough to be in group photos without hating how I looked.

The real difference hit me on day three. I wore the Addi cotton kurta again (different styling, same fabric). Zero anxiety about being uncomfortable. Just showed up, enjoyed the wedding, lived my life.

That's when I realized "premium" in ethnic wear usually just means "looks expensive for Instagram." Addi cotton means "performs well in real life." And I'd been choosing wrong this whole time, prioritizing the mirror moment over the actual 8-hour event experience.

Why We Need to Stop Glorifying Uncomfortable Ethnic Wear

After Jaipur, I started noticing this pattern everywhere guys wearing ethnic wear and visibly suffering. Standing stiffly because sitting would wrinkle their kurta. Avoiding dancing because their outfit restricts movement. Spending more time near ACs than at the actual event.

We've normalized this. We act like discomfort is the price of looking good, especially in ethnic wear. Heavy fabrics are seen as more formal. If you're not slightly miserable, you're not dressed appropriately enough.

That's honestly ridiculous.

Nobody's giving out awards for "most uncomfortable outfit at a wedding." The photos might look great, but you're spending 6-8 hours being miserable for what? A few Instagram posts? The validation of strangers who think you "dressed well"?

The addi cotton kurta taught me something important that you can respect the occasion AND be comfortable. Looking appropriate doesn't require suffering. And honestly, when you're comfortable, you enjoy the event more, which means you're more present, more engaged, and ironically, you probably look better in photos because you're not grimacing internally.

Comfort isn't a compromise. It's just smart decision-making. And we need to stop pretending that choosing breathable, well-made fabric over heavy, impressive looking material makes you any less formal or put-together.

Fashion should work for you, not against you. Especially in a country where most events happen in heat that actively wants you dead.

 

 

Why Addi Cotton Works for Real Life (Not Just Instagram)

Here's something I've noticed, a lot of ethnic wear looks incredible in photos but is miserable to actually wear. Heavy fabrics that photograph beautifully but make you sweat. Intricate embroidery that looks stunning but catches on everything. Delicate materials that require you to move like you're made of glass.

Addi cotton is the opposite. It's not the most photogenic fabric, it doesn't have that dramatic shine or texture that pops on camera.

But in real life, in motion, over the course of an actual event? It performs.

You can sit, stand, eat, dance, exist normally without constantly worrying about your outfit. The fabric moves with you instead of restricting you. It doesn't require you to modify your behavior to protect it.

That Jaipur wedding was the first time I wore ethnic wear and forgot I was wearing ethnic wear. I wasn't thinking about sweat stains, or whether I could sit down without wrinkling it beyond repair, or if I needed to be careful while eating. I just... existed in it.

That's rare. Most ethnic wear demands constant attention. Addi cotton just lets you live.

And honestly? That's more valuable than looking perfect in a mirror selfie for Instagram. Because you're spending 6-8 hours at that event, not 6-8 seconds taking a photo.

Final Thoughts (And Why Orly Actually Stocks This Stuff)

Working at Orly, I've realized something that most ethnic wear brands don't actually care about fabrics like Addi cotton. They're too busy chasing trends, pushing "limited edition collections," and slapping premium labels on mediocre blends.

Addi cotton isn't trendy. It's not going to generate viral Instagram content. It's just good fabric that works consistently, which apparently isn't sexy enough for most brands to care about.

But Orly stocks it. Not as a side option or a budget alternative, but as a core part of the collection. Because when customers come back and say "that kurta is still perfect after two years," that matters more than whatever's trending this season.

If you're tired of buying ethnic wear that disappoints you three wears in, come check out the Addi cotton collection at Orly. Touch it, feel the weave, try one on. It's not going to dazzle you in the store, but wear it to an actual event and you'll get it.

That accidental Jaipur kurta taught me that the best ethnic wear isn't the stuff that impresses you in the mirror. It's the stuff that performs in real life, lasts through real use, and makes you forget you're wearing something "special" because it just feels right.

Addi cotton does that. And that's rare enough that it's worth paying attention to.

 

 

 

Arkajeet
Currently looking at my closet wondering why I own so many kurtas I never wear