Step outside Janpath Metro station on a winter afternoon and the street turns woollen. Where embroidered kurtis once hung, rows of Kashmiri pherans now dominate — maroon, indigo and mustard cloaks swaying in the cold breeze,their wide sleeves and intricate aari work catching the light.
Across markets, campuses and metro platforms, the same loose, ankle-length silhouette repeats. What was once confined to the Kashmir Valley has quietly become Delhi’s unofficial winter uniform.
At stores like KCS Kashmir and Imperial Stores and Tailors in Janpath, or Central Market in Lajpatnagar, stacks of pherans begin lining the shelves as early as November. By December, they are the most sought-after item.
“People come specifically for pherans now,” says Farash Mahmud of KCS Kashmir in Janpath, whose business in the winter entirely runs on the garment. “In winter we sell only pherans. In summer we switch to cotton clothes. This is completely seasonal.”
What the market wants
The pricing explains the rush. Machine-stitched pherans cost ₹750–1,100, affordable for students and office workers, while handmade aari-embroidered pieces - a traditional technique that uses a hooked needle to create intricate - start at ₹2,500 to ₹4000 or more.
“The cheaper ones are machine made and are preferred more by customers,” Mahmud says. “But real pherans shouldn’t be treated like kurtas. They are supposed to be loose. Now some people want slim fits. That’s not how a pheran is meant to be.”
Traditionally, the pheran was designed for survival, not style. Its flowing structure allowed Kashmiris to tuck a kangri, a small earthen fire pot, underneath to stay warm through harsh winters. Function shaped every fold.
But fashion has stepped in. Retailers say demand spiked after the pandemic, when comfort wear replaced structured clothing and WFH blurred the line between indoors and outdoors. Celebrity sightings and social media posts only accelerated the trend.
“It really picked up after Covid,” says Zamin Imtiaz of Kara Shawls and Scarves, which sources its stock directly from Srinagar. “Once celebrities started wearing it on social media, the demand shot up. Since then, business has boomed while sales have been good this winter”.
Boom time but profits?
Yet the boom does not mean easy profits. “Transport and making costs are already R 600 - 700 a piece. We sell for around R 850-1100. Margins are small and it’s only a two month season,” he says.
If Janpath feels curated and tourist heavy, Rajouri Garden tells a different story.
In the busy West Delhi market, the pheran trade is more migratory and personal. Every October, Zubair Ahmed and his brother Mashour Ahmed travel from Kashmir to set up a temporary shop here. When snowfall shuts down business back home, Delhi becomes their winter workplace.
“When the valley is covered in snow, customers don’t come out,” he says, folding a stack of navy blue pherans. “So we come here and sell. This is how we manage the season.”
Most of what he stocks is factory made. “Machine work sells more. It’s affordable. We sell between Rs 850 - 1,100 depending on the embroidery. Making it costs us around ₹600 or ₹650, so maybe we make ₹300 profit each,” Ahmed says.
On a good day, he sells 15 to 20 pieces. November and December are peak months. By late January, sales taper off. In February, he heads back to Kashmir to resume studies and family work.
Behind both markets lies the same origin story. In Srinagar, the fabric is dyed, pressed and embroidered slowly. Aari work can take 3-4 days for a single garment. Floral vines and paisleys are stitched thread by thread, each piece slightly different while machine-made versions replicate the same designs faster and in large numbers.
Cheaper machine-made versions from Ludhiana have also entered the market, retailing for ₹600–700 but often compromising on quality.
A practical garment
Retailers estimate that nearly three out of every ten women shoppers pick up a pheran during the season. Students wear them to lectures, office goers pair them with jeans providing versatility. For many buyers, the appeal is emotional as much as practical.
Komal Jain, a college student, says,, “It’s just more comfortable than jackets,” she says with a smile. “You can wear it to class, to the metro, even somewhere formal. And it looks nice without trying too hard. It feels cosy but stylish.”
For Kashmiris, the pheran carries familiarity, a wearable piece of home, a symbol of pride. For Delhiites, it is something trendy, warmer than a sweater, roomier than while you still look fashionable in the winter cold.
From the lanes of Janpath to the bustle of Rajouri Garden, the journey is the same.
A mountain garment made for survival now moves through a metropolitan crowd, carrying craft, climate and memory in every stitch. For traders like Ahmed, the season ends when Delhi warms. But until then, every sale carries a piece of home stitched into the capital’s winter.