he dollar weighed in at around Rs 257.17 against the Pakistani rupee in the preceding week. Without being an economist, and with even the most average memory, you probably can recall enough dollar rates past to know that the rupee will not dramatically raise in value in the coming days and months. This – or thereabouts – is what it’s going to be for the foreseeable future. Unless Pakistan makes radical changes to its economic planning and governance, Pakistanis will have to contend with worse inflation than ever, with dietary staples just about doubling in price across the board.

The above summation isn’t meant to depress you, though if it does, we can commiserate. That said, priorities run the gamut of goods and services across classes, and though the fashion industry might not appear to be an essential, it of course has its six degrees of separation from every single Pakistani.

Designer Amna Arshad, who recently opened doors to her Karachi atelier, acknowledges the economic downturn, while being refreshingly candid about how her business has fared over the last few years.

“I wouldn’t say sales are especially bad,” says Amna, as we chat about the increased cost of living in the last few months. This comes as a sort of non-surprise. The folks who have the income to dispose, will look at their luxury pret and couture purchases as justified investments. But Amna Arshad, the label, has weathered more than just this storm.

Amna lowers her voice by a decibel as she says, “the lockdown was actually a good time for us. We hadn’t been producing anything for about two-and-half months, and the day we put up one picture of a single design, we received 150 orders overnight.” The tone is ostensibly quieter because the lockdown had turned most industries on their head, the future uncertain for everyone. This is where the six degrees kick in though: for any fashion designer to bring their vision to fruition, they need various people – or teams of people – to assist them to the finish line.

“One of my karigars came up to me recently and told me milk per kilo now costs Rs 250,” Amna shares, “and I know the price of everything has skyrocketed. Within my own clientele, people may be picking up maybe 50% of what they would buy before, but they’re still buying.”

The fashion industry may not be egalitarian, but Amna Arshad has very clear views on how things work: “it isn’t the industry that’s elitist,” she says. “An individual may be elitist, but not the industry. As it stands, there is something within the retail and custom labels to cater to diverse price points.”

Amna has herself considered expanding her label to western wear, when she has the bandwidth, and to lawn in a couple of years too. Lawn, it has been noted, recorded, and also sometimes lamented, is the moneymaker of the industry, with everyone jumping all kinds of hoops to acquire it. Back when the very in-demand Sana Safinaz lawn had launched, The Imperial, a venue at Do Talwar in Karachi would sport queues for days, for days. Opening day was murder, traffic-wise, while the designers made a killing, sales-wise.

The 2020s equivalent of the lawn queues are the digital queues; potential customers sit with their tapping powers on high-alert, crashing servers by the sheer volume of traffic as soon as a lawn collection drops. Pieces sell out overnight, and savvy consumers offer to resell the most coveted designs under the table.

That said, it has been established over the years that lawn is lucrative, but not ‘fashion’. Yes, you get a version of the design house’s aesthetic with the piece you purchase, and the designers add all the laces and trimmings you would need to create an outfit without thinking about it too much, but at the end of the day, it all becomes the same. One day you turn up at one playdate wearing the same print as three other ladies, and within months, the print becomes dated, and is handed on to someone else.

Perhaps the step next to take is to organize the industry once more: if the fashion council format is one that no longer serves Pakistani designers, so be it. Amna Arshad does propose that smaller meetings of just industry professionals can make a huge difference towards younger businesses, as well as older ones. Currently the textile industry contributes roughly 9% towards the country’s GDP, while digital retail for fashion is projected to show a 5% increase annually for the next few years; figures that are significant enough for the industry to re-look at how things have been done up to this point.

Acknowledging this cycle, Amna says that she will look into lawn when she has the capacity to mass-produce. “And if I’m mass producing, where’s the exclusivity?”

She doesn’t say it to be cliquey; Amna Arshad has introduced a slightly more budget line, which is smart-casual, soft and pretty, like the label’s overall aesthetic.

“I’m okay catering to my clientele for now,” she says, “and when I say exclusive, I do mean what we just discussed: you don’t want to turn up at an event dressed like everyone else.”

If you were to rifle through the racks at Amna Arshad, you’d find a lot of pastels, printed silk, and smart linen. Then a couple of steps in, and you’re faced with some of the most bold formals and bridals you’ve seen in a while.

For her formal/bridal range, Amna picks a strong palette of deep red, dark greens and blues. Even when the tints turn to pastel blue, silver, gold, and white, the fabric she works with, and the embellishment on each piece layers on to create strong pieces.

There are quite a few flounced hemlines. Maybe they’re a little too ‘80s? Amna disagrees. “I think they elevate the outfit without piling on kaam,” she says, pointing out that her younger clients have been really into the look.

Though she herself wore a Dr. Haroon red on her own wedding, Amna picks a pale pink top, embroidered with flowers, beaded lovingly, and shimmering with kaam in flashes as what she would say is her perfect bridal at the moment.

Despite the soft aesthetic and pretty motifs – there is a particularly arresting white top with a lotus-like flower appliqued on in silver and gold gota – the brain that ticks behind Amna’s gentle and polite demeanor is razor-sharp about how to run a business.

“My clients are spending hefty amounts,” she says, while explaining why just an online store does not suffice in her opinion.

“They should be able to come and see what they’re investing in’ if they’re overseas, then most will send relatives to check out their picks in-store. Plus, since we have an international clientele, it’s always good to let them know we’re a solid presence, that we’re reliable, even if not in their physical proximity.”

The setting up of her studio, retail outlet, and ensuing sales have also reinforced the assumption upon which the designer moved: a physical presence is necessary, despite more and more people turning to e-commerce for most retail solutions.

The concerns around a formal entity dealing with global clients, and the impact of recession and the reconfiguration of incomes vs. expenditures is one that has been coming up within the industry a lot recently.

While prices are sky-high – one wonders whether a Rs 45,000 cotton jora is justified – design houses like Farah Talib Aziz have broken it down for us before: materials have more than doubled in cost, and salaries are adjusted for inflation. Meanwhile, physical presence may not be essential when buying a t-shirt, but definitely is a factor when purchasing an expensive suit or wedding ensemble. A lot of bridals displayed on websites will quote prices up to a point, and then comes a section where one is advised to enquire about price.

Clearly, the market exists, which is why the industry exists. The point of poignance here is that while we may be tempted to talk about how the wealth can be better spent, the fashion industry does provide employment to more than just a few. From riders to craftsmen, tailors to shop assistants; there is more than just frivolity to the business.

Perhaps the step next to take is to organize the industry once more: if the fashion council format is one that no longer serves Pakistani designers, so be it. Amna Arshad does propose that smaller meetings of just industry professionals can make a huge difference towards younger businesses, as well as older ones. Currently the textile industry contributes roughly 9% towards the country’s GDP, while digital retail for fashion is projected to show a 5% increase annually for the next few years; figures that are significant enough for the industry to re-look at how things have been done up to this point.

Two-way communication, where the industry as a whole studies buying trends, the impact of inflation, as well as import and export glitches can assist in better strategies, aligning with projections, or out-performing them. We’ve been hearing it referred to as, “the business of fashion”, in Pakistan for over a decade now, but the lack of formal organization is disturbing, and probably detrimental to the industry’s wellbeing, and the country’s economy as a whole.