Shopping in Rajasthan by Sue Carpenter

It’s not until you arrive in Rajasthan that you realise you have been asleep, existing rather than living. India awakens the senses with a jolt. Each day is a pageant of colour and costume, light and pattern, sound and smell; appealing not in a quaint, ethnic way but with its own innate sense of style. On my first visit in 1984, I was agog at my palace hotel’s enfilades of scalloped archways, at the sweeper who had teamed a diaphanous lime green scarf with a fuchsia bodice and floral skirt and wafted through the brilliant sunlight like an ad for Kenzo, at the way an ancient old man could look so defiantly cool in dark glasses and a candy-floss pink turban.

Equally entrancing were the bazaars. Every outing turned into a buying mission, beetling off by autorickshaw to someone’s stall or factory to snap up dhurries (rugs) in sand and duck egg blue, leather-bound notebooks of handmade paper embedded with petals, violet antique silk wedding saris encrusted with gold. No wonder Rajasthan has become the spiritual home for so many fashion designers, retailers, artists, photographers and models, who flock there for inspiration, to recharge their city-worn batteries- and to shop.

The hot pink city of Jaipur is not only the state capital but the retail capital, where designers such as Isabelle Fraysse and Celia Forner Venturi get their jewellery and accessories manufactured. This is the city for gemstones, abounding with skeins of rough-cut emeralds and rubies. The Gem Palace- by appointment to the late Earl Mountbatten of Burma- is, says Isabelle Fraysse, the ‘all-time kick. Munnu Kasliwal is one of the most talented jewellery designers around.’ And if you can’t justify a $1,000 precious stone extravaganza, you’ll find karma bead bracelets of polished amethyst or jade for around $5. Following in the wake of the Jaipur cognoscenti, turn right out of the Gem Palace to Lassiwala, a street stall where you sip creamy curd lassi from terracotta beakers.

Hand blocking printing, another Jaipur speciality, was brought to the West by Anokhi, whose showroom on Tilak Marg yields great bargains. I can’t visit without buying at least two printed cotton lawn quilts at give away prices. Street shopping is at its best in the bazaars of Jaipur, where whole streets sell just one type of goods, from bicycle parts to wickerware. The stalls around the central roundabout near the Hawa Mahal (the fabled brick-pink Palace of the Winds) are a stylist’s dream-marigold and rose garlands on ice, glass bottles of perfume oils glinting in dappled sunlight. Johari Bazaar is the street for bright ‘bhandani’ (tie-dye) saris. And if you battle on to the end, you’ll come upon Isabelle Fraysse’s favourite bazaar, for kitchen ware: ‘Everything is in metal - tiffins and bowls and graters, from mini to gigantic- which looks so pretty and modern.’ Follow it up with a veggie lunch and pomegranate or sweet lime juice at LMB Hotel.

The old blue city of Jodhpur is another delight to walk around, winding up haggling for crystal bangles in the mayhem of the market. Don’t, however, be tempted by leech-like guides to enter the tourist emporium where Jeremy Irons purportedly bought 12 maharaja’s silk coats. The assistants are the smoothest talkers in the business, and you’ll end up buying pashminas of questionable quality and ordering a made-to-measure coat like Jeremy’s, only it won’t be made to your measurements. Do buy from the local shops rippling gold-edged bhandani silk stoles and rainbow ‘pagris’ (turbans), which make wonderful diaphanous curtains.

Jodhpur is also where ethnic and antique furniture dealers come to stock up at the warehouse shops between Ajit Bhawan and Umaid Bhawan Palace, the two top hotels in town. You’ll find carved doors, beds, stone fragments, wooden platters, ceramic door knobs and glass lanterns (just check your conscience first, though, before helping to plunder Rajasthan’s heritage).

Jaisalmer is the jewel in Rajasthan’s crown, a far-distant fortress city, glowing golden amid the desert scrub. Yet, just as you thought you’d reached a place as remote as they get, someone will pull out a glossy magazine featuring Helena Christensen in Jaisalmer, snapping the locals or buying up glittery fabric, or a Condé Nast Traveller cover story by fashion photographer Ellen von Unwerth. Jaisalmer is irresistibly picturesque, with its intricately carved overhanging balconies and ‘jali’ screens and the most alluring of people. You’ll see men dolled up in a candy coloured assortment of turbans and women weighed down by armloads of imitation ivory bangles, silver bracelets and anklets, nose studs and chains, finger and toe rings- and that’s just to man the vegetable market stall.

Although there’s a thriving trade in modern crafts, from wooden figures to puppets to embroidered and mirror work bedcovers and hangings, Jaisalmer’s speciality is antique textiles. Start browsing at the Patwa Havelis- five magnificently carved mansions built by a silver thread merchant for his sons- which today house emporia for clothes, textiles and objects. Once your eyes are tuned in, feast them on the real thing, a fabulous stash of antique textiles at the nearby Barmer Embroidery House, owned by Abhimanyu Rathi.

I stay in one of the original bastions of the fort at Killa Bhawan, a tiny hotel with a glorious rooftop overlooking the city and desert. The man behind it is Swiss-Italian Luca Borella, who has injected his European style and attention to detail, and also runs the designer shop Idea Plus, near the main gate to the city. Dine around the corner, lounging lazily on floor cushions, at Surya restaurant, and hope that Manoj, the extravagantly mustachioed owner, is in town.

The in crowd also favour Fort Rajwada, with lofty interiors by opera set designer Stephanie Engeln, including a sassy bar with a wall of glowing arched niches. Isabelle Fraysse loves it here, not least because it is owned by Geetu Singh Rathore, who also runs the much-loved Trio restaurant, and who can lead you to the best cobbler in town for leather ‘jootis’, the traditional hand-tooled shoes of camel or goat hide.

Finally, if you’re overwhelmed by Rajasthan’s daily pageant and palatial splendour, the perfect antidote is Osian Camel Camp, run by American-educated Reggie Singh, a cousin of the Maharaja of Jodhpur. Osian’s charm is its placeless, timeless, colonial bush-camp feel, where you stay in traditional white canvas tents (with real beds and bathrooms) ride camels away from the hordes, dine al fresco, and wind up listening to blues in the bar.