The sari may be indigenous to the Indian subcontinent but the modern blouse-and-petticoat combination associated with it is not entirely so; and the names themselves offer the first clue.
The word “blouse” entered the English language in the early 19th century from French, while “petticoat” traces its origins to Middle English, combining petty (small) and cote (coat). Yet, over time, these foreign garments became inseparable from what is now perceived as “traditional” Indian attire.
Their assimilation into Indian fashion owes much to Victorian notions of propriety as well as to Jnanadanandini Devi, sister-in-law of Rabindranath Tagore, at least in Bengal.
Before the blouse
Anamika Debnath, associate professor at National Institute of Fashion Technology, Kolkata, pointed out that the clothing traditions of any society are deeply influenced by climate and Bengal’s tropical weather naturally encouraged breathable, minimal layering.
She also emphasised that dressing in India was never homogeneous.
Historian Charu Gupta, in her essay Fashioning Swadeshi: Clothing Women in Colonial North India, noted that clothing functions as “a form of social control, a mechanism of inclusion and exclusion, mirroring social hierarchies and moral boundaries.”
Working-class women in Bengal often wore thicker, opaque saris that did not require a separate blouse or petticoat. Wealthier women wore finer – and therefore more translucent – fabrics, which eventually necessitated the need for undergarments.
Colonial influence and the Brahmika sari
The most decisive transformation in women’s clothing — particularly in Bengal — came during British colonial rule.
Sociologist Maitrayee Chaudhuri, in her article Indian Modernity and Tradition: A Gender Analysis, observed that Victorian upper-class culture and gender norms were increasingly projected as ideals to aspire to during the pre-Independence period.
The modern-day blouse and petticoat were themselves colonial imports.
According to Chaudhuri, in the late 1870s, Jnanadanandini Devi, wife of Satyendranath Tagore, returned to Calcutta after spending time in Bombay. There, she had encountered Parsi women wearing saris pinned at the shoulder with brooches and paired with blouses and shoes.
Adapting this style, she introduced what came to be known as the Brahmika sari, which was quickly embraced by women of the Brahmo Samaj, a 19th-century socio-religious reform movement in India founded by Raja Ram Mohan Roy and Dwarkanath Tagore, grandfather of Rabindranath Tagore.
Jnanadanandini Devi, Satyendranath Tagore, Kadambari Devi and Jyotirindranath Tagore commons.wikimedia.org
Blouse as a symbol of class
Popular accounts suggest that Jnanadanandini Devi was once denied entry into a British club because she was not considered “appropriately dressed,” prompting her to rethink women’s attire in Bengal.
“But even then the wealthier women were, at first, shy to put on a blouse. Think of the sequence in Rituparno Ghosh’s Chokher Bali where Aishwarya Rai Bachchan is teaching Raima Sen how to put on a blouse. The reaction is almost that of an elderly woman trying out trousers for the first time in today’s society,” said Debnath, who teaches courses like history of design & fashion at NIFT, Kolkata.
She clarified that Jnanadanandini Devi was not the first Indian woman to wear an upper-body garment; nautch girls in north India had long worn cholis.
What Tagore’s sister-in-law popularised instead was the Brahmika sari style — a hybrid drape paired with a very Victorian-style blouse and petticoat that aligned with British ideas of modesty and propriety.
While Jnanadanandini Devi is often celebrated as a feminist reformer, her sartorial choices also reflected the colonial gaze and upper-class aspirations.
“She gave in to Victorian notions of propriety to suit her needs and present herself in a certain light in society,” Debnath said.
Sujata Biswas, designer and co-founder of fashion label Suta, explained: “In cities like Calcutta, especially among educated upper-class families, stitched blouses slowly became a symbol of refinement and modernity. But the shift wasn’t instant everywhere and many women in rural Bengal continued wearing sarees in traditional blouse-free drapes for years because that simply felt more natural, practical, and comfortable in everyday life.”
The blouse’s journey from urban to rural spaces
Over time, simplified and less ornate versions of the blouse became common among women doctors, social workers, swadeshi movement pioneers, teachers and graduates. The blouse-and-sari combination gradually entered schools as part of girls’ uniforms because it symbolised appropriateness.
Explaining how the blouse reached women in rural areas, fashion influencer Ishita Mangal said: “As more women joined professions such as teaching and social work, the style spread beyond urban elite circles into semi-urban and rural Bengal. Cheaper fabric and local tailors also contributed to the spread.”
Even then, Debnath noted, blouses remained functional rather than fashionable.
Matching blouses with saris were largely an urban phenomenon, while in many rural areas women continued to work without blouses in private or all-female spaces.
No longer a mere accompaniment
The earliest blouses were almost entirely Victorian — high necked, full sleeved, heavily structured, very covered. Today, the blouse has transcended its colonial origins to become a statement in itself. Shutterstock, Instagram/@suta_bombay
The earliest blouses, Mangal said, looked very different from contemporary versions. “Design wise the earliest blouses were almost entirely Victorian. They were high necked, full sleeved, heavily structured, very covered,” she explained.
Echoing her views, Biswas said, “Those first blouses, influenced by European fashion, were also very class-coded. If you wore a blouse, it often meant you belonged to the educated, upper-class ‘bhadralok’ society of Calcutta. Over the years, blouses evolved dramatically: from stiff Victorian silhouettes to softer cotton everyday blouses, and now to contemporary cuts that are experimental, breathable, minimal, bespoke and handcrafted.”
No longer an embodiment of Victorian upper-class ideals, blouses today are deeply personal, reflecting one’s style, individuality, and aesthetics.
Today, the blouse has transcended its colonial origins to become a deeply personal garment, a statement in itself. “No longer merely an accompaniment to the sari, it has evolved into an expression of individuality, confidence and body positivity,” said Debnath.
“The modern blouse isn’t about restriction or perfection. It’s about feeling at ease in your own skin while wearing a sari,” added Biswas.
Mangal underlined the handloom revival happening right now: “The blouse has gone from being a marker of propriety to being a canvas.”