Etro Put Kazakh and Kyrgyz Ornamental Patterns on the Runway — Without Crediting the Source

There is a more recent precedent as well. In the summer of 2021, Etro was criticized by activists and the fashion blog Diet Prada over a men's collection. The brand virtually copied the sacred visual codes of the Navajo Native American people — elements of sacred sand painting and pictograms of the Yei intermediary spirits. The luxury label was accused of turning an entire people's religious symbols into a commercial product without the community's consent and without payments to artisans.

Defenders of Etro at the time spoke of inspiration from Navajo culture — in exactly the same way they now write that "Kyrgyz ornaments made an indelible impression on the whole world during the World Nomad Games."

The Piracy Paradox

In fashion theory, there is a concept called the "piracy paradox," or the effect of global legitimization. When a famous brand turns to local ethnic codes, it shifts them from the category of "museum folklore" into the category of ultra-modern global luxury. In the internet era, silencing the original source is impossible: a wave of "visual investigations" on social media pushes global consumers to find out what a shyrdak or a syrmak is. For Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, this amounts to free international publicity, which in the long run may bring foreign buyers and tourists to local designers.

However, this positive effect is more of a byproduct than a merit of the brand. Independent fashion resources emphasize: drawing inspiration from other cultures is not forbidden in the industry, but it is critically important to understand the difference between appreciation (cultural appreciation) and appropriation (cultural appropriation).

Appreciation is always a collaboration. Christian Dior's projects became an example of how to work with heritage: the brand involved local weavers and artisans from India and Africa in creating cruise collections, officially promoted their names, paid fair fees, and preserved the context.

A Turkic Manifesto: Aigel Salakh Versus Etro

The opposite story — the brand Aigel Salakh from Kazan, whose bags have won the love of Kazakh and Kyrgyz fashionistas — clearly illustrates the boundary between appropriation and respect. The ornaments and plant-and-zoomorphic motifs on Aigel Salakh's products look like steppe patterns, as similar as twins. Yet instead of accusations, the brand receives hundreds of compliments in the comments.

The first reason is a shared ethnocultural DNA. Designer Aigel Salakhova works in the ancient technique of Tatar patterned leather mosaic, which great-grandmothers knew, and which famous Tatar boots once showcased in the height of fashion. The subconscious reads these bags not as "outsiders stole our heritage," but as a manifesto of shared Turkic heritage. Customers from Almaty and Astana write to the brand: "This is about us too."

"Kazakhstan! You have flooded our DM with lovely compliments about the bags! And almost every one of you is surprised: 'you're from Russia? From Kazan?' Yes. We are from Kazan. And I understand this surprise very well. Because at the heart of Aigel Salakh is Tatar leather mosaic. It is a Turkic cultural layer: shared roots, aesthetics, memory, history. When you write from Almaty 'this is about us too,' I understand that a cultural code runs deeper than borders," Aigel Salakhova responded on the brand's Instagram page.

The second reason is handcraft. While Etro takes a pattern, digitizes it, and sends it to a mass industrial machine, Aigel Salakh engages in craftsmanship: each bag is assembled by hand, piece by piece, using the traditional "Kazan stitch." The consumer sees in this respect for the continuity of generations.

The third reason: unlike Western luxury, a local brand is not trying to sell exoticism — it is the exoticism itself, and it promotes its own culture.

What Comes Next

The Central Asian fashion community is not trying to "lock away" shyrdaks and syrmaks in chests. Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan are all for nomadic aesthetics walking the Milan runways. But preferably by invitation — invitations with names written on them. For now, the European luxury giants continue to pretend they found the treasures of the Great Silk Road on an unattended Google Drive.