Before Italy Knew
What Cashmere Was
There is a valley ringed by the highest mountains on earth where, for more than five thousand years, a single tradition has endured unchanged. The artisans who work there do not call what they make “cashmere.” They call it Pashm — the golden fibre — and they have been spinning, dyeing and weaving it by hand since before Rome was founded.
Kani weaving, the most complex form of Kashmir’s textile art, has been traced back to 3000 BC. The Mughals coveted it. Emperor Akbar wore it at court. Napoleon Bonaparte sent fifteen Kashmir shawls to Joséphine as love tokens. Queen Victoria had them draped across her shoulders. These were not merely luxurious objects — they were diplomatic currency, the finest thing the world had to offer.
The very word cashmere is derived from Kashmir. The fibre did not originate in Mongolia. It did not originate in Italy. It originated here — in the high meadows of Ladakh, at 14,000 feet, where Changthangi goats survive temperatures that rival Siberia by growing one of the finest natural fibres in existence.
“Kani shawls are housed in the world’s finest museums — the Victoria and Albert in London, the Musée des Arts Décoratifs in Paris, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.”
— From the Pure Kashmir archiveThe shawls that Napoleon sent to Joséphine were not made in Europe. They were made in Srinagar, on handlooms that have not fundamentally changed in five centuries. And somewhere in that same valley today, the same looms are still running.
How Cashmere
Travelled to Europe
The story of how cashmere reached the drawing rooms of London and Paris is a story of obsession, imitation, and — eventually — compromise.
It began with the East India Company. British officers stationed in India in the 18th century sent Kashmir shawls home as the most precious gift they could offer. The demand that followed was insatiable — and utterly impossible to satisfy. A single fine Kani shawl, woven thread by thread from coded manuscripts called talim, took a master weaver between twelve and thirty-six months to complete. One artisan could weave no more than one inch per day.
Europe wanted more. Europe wanted it faster. Europe wanted it cheaper.
The Jacquard Loom Changes Everything
In 1804, Joseph-Marie Jacquard invented a mechanical loom in France that could replicate complex woven patterns using punched cards. Mills in Paisley, Scotland, and later in northern Italy began producing shawls that looked like Kashmir originals at a fraction of the cost. The Paisley pattern — so associated with Scotland today — is a direct imitation of the Kashmiri boteh motif that Mughal weavers had been creating for centuries.
As European mills grew more sophisticated, they began sourcing raw cashmere from Mongolia and Inner Mongolia, where cashmere goats exist in far greater numbers than the high plateaus of Ladakh.
“The name on the label changed. The looms became mechanical. The fibre moved from one plateau to another. The only thing that did not move was the tradition — because it could not be replicated by machine.”
By the mid-20th century, the region that gave cashmere its name had been bypassed by a globalised industry that kept the word and discarded the origin.
Kashmir Pashmina measures 13–15 microns.
Loro Piana’s finest adult cashmere: 14.5–15.5 microns.
The difference is not marketing.
It is biology.
What Loro Piana
and Burberry Actually Sell You
We say this without malice, because both are exceptional companies. But there is a story being told — and it deserves to be told honestly.
Loro Piana, the Italian house now owned by LVMH, has built its reputation as arguably the world’s finest cashmere brand. Their quality control is meticulous. But their cashmere comes from Mongolia and Inner Mongolia, woven on mechanical looms — the same technology Jacquard introduced in 1804. Their finest adult cashmere measures 14.5 to 15.5 microns.
Burberry, the British heritage house, uses cashmere sourced primarily from China and Mongolia, processed and woven industrially — finished by machine.
Neither brand weaves by hand. Neither brand uses Ladakhi Changthangi cashmere. Neither brand can honestly use the word Kashmir in any meaningful sense.
Their products are beautifully made. What we are suggesting is that the word “cashmere” has been stretched so far from its origin that most people buying it have no idea what the original actually is. The original is still being made — in the same place, by the same methods, on the same wooden looms.
What the Machines
Cannot Do
There is a reason that a Kani shawl takes eighteen months to complete. Our shawls undergo twenty distinct hand processes — not one of which can be reliably replicated by a machine.
It begins in Ladakh at 14,000 feet, where Changthangi goats yield just 300 grams of raw Pashm per year, combed by hand each spring.
The Dehairing
Separating the fine Pashm from the coarse outer guard hair cannot be done by machine. The fibres are too fine and fragile. It is done by hand, by artisans who know by touch alone which fibres belong.
The Spinning
The cleaned Pashm is treated with pounded rice water — Thumb in Kashmiri — a technique refined over six centuries. Spun into yarn so fine it barely registers as substance.
The Dyeing
Kashmir Pashmina occurs naturally in only two colours: ivory and brown. Every other shade is the work of specialist dyers called Ranger, using only azo-free ingredients. The depth in a navy or burgundy Pure Kashmir shawl is the product of a dyer’s knowledge, not a factory bath.
The Weaving
The shawl is woven by a Wovur on 15th-century-style handlooms. There is no automation. Every millimetre of fabric is a deliberate human act. For a Kani shawl, hundreds of small wooden bobbins called kanis carry each colour thread individually, following a coded manuscript called a talim, line by line, for months on end.
“The looms we use are the same looms that master weavers have worked for 500 years. No industrial machinery. No shortcuts. Each scarf takes 4–6 weeks of hand-weaving, creating a fabric with memory and character that mass production cannot replicate.”
— From the Pure Kashmir craft archiveWhy Pure Kashmir
Costs Less — and Is Worth More
A Loro Piana cashmere scarf retails for $600–$1,200. Burberry $400–$800. A Pure Kashmir handwoven scarf retails for $130–$320. A Kani shawl for $1,550–$2,950.
The answer is the supply chain. We are the manufacturer. No Italian distributor. No LVMH dividend. No Bond Street boutique at £500 per square foot. No celebrity campaigns. No logo premium.
We returned from London in 2013 frustrated — watching Mayfair boutiques sell Kashmir shawls made by our own artisans’ communities at ten times the price, with none of the story. We built Pure Kashmir to close that gap. When you buy from us, the money reaches the artisan.
The Original Is Still
the Best Thing in the World
Loro Piana is a magnificent company. Burberry is a magnificent brand. We do not diminish what they have built.
But cashmere has a home. The artisans who carry that tradition in Srinagar today are doing what their families have done for five centuries — with the same wooden looms, the same coded manuscripts, the same hands. The fibre is finer. The process is older. The result is more individual.
And when you hold a Pure Kashmir shawl — really hold it, feel the almost-nothing of it — you are holding something that no factory in the world is capable of producing. That is not a marketing claim. It is five thousand years of evidence.
“We love these fibres because their production methods are sustainable, their quality is unsurpassed, and their natural finish is one of a kind.”
— Pure Kashmir, About UsThe word cashmere still belongs to Kashmir. Come and find it here.
Begin with the Original
Handwoven in Srinagar. Delivered to the USA, UK, Canada and worldwide. Every piece comes with our unconditional money-back authenticity guarantee.