Cotton, Colonialism, and Consumerism: How Indian Cotton Shaped Global Trade
The explosive popularity of Indian cotton textiles in 17th-18th century France triggered a chain reaction with global consequences. As vibrant indiennes captivated European consumers, they disrupted local industries, inspired stringent bans, and ultimately became enmeshed in the transatlantic slave trade. Read on to learn how a seemingly simple commodity—printed cotton—became a flashpoint for economic protectionism, colonial exploitation, and the paradoxes of early globalization.
Written by Sanjit Dhillon
Fashion has long been a significant economic force in France, dating back to the late seventeenth century when the sartorial splendor of Louis XIV’s court at Versailles captivated aristocrats across Europe, sparking widespread emulation. No textile proved more influential in accelerating European industrialization than a type of printed Indian cotton, commonly known as chintz. These vibrantly colored, boldly patterned fabrics were crafted by skilled artisans who used special mordants—substances that, when combined with vegetable dyes, created vivid, fade-resistant designs. In French, these printed cottons were called indiennes.
While France initially hesitated to participate in the Indian textile trade, it eventually recognized the advantages of sourcing cotton fabrics directly from India rather than paying inflated prices for cloth imported through England and the Netherlands. The French East India Company (Compagnie des Indes Orientales), founded in 1664, never matched the commercial success of its rivals—the British East India Company and the Dutch Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie (The Dutch East India Company). Plagued by financial troubles, the French company placed orders too small to dominate local textile markets.¹ Yet, by the late 17th century, its imports surged to roughly 100,000 pieces annually, including white calicos and blue or painted muslins. This figure tripled to 300,000 pieces per year by the early 18th century.
Initially, these exotic imports gained popularity among elite circles, where they were used for informal daywear (déshabillé), particularly in dressing gowns. Over the course of the 18th century, indiennes became à la mode, and the coveted fabrics found diverse applications—from curtains and upholstery to garments like shirts, undergarments, waistcoats, and dresses.² Lighter and more affordable than silk, imported cotton was embraced across social classes, earning recognition as the first mass fashion. Unlike embroidered silks, which were reserved for special occasions and required laborious handwork, printed cottons offered vibrant patterns without costly embellishment, fueling their widespread appeal.
Before the rise of printed cottons, the average person wore coarse, solid-colored cloth—often left undyed—with limited wardrobe options. Garments were worn for extended periods, their durability often rendering them increasingly drab. By the mid-18th century, clothing accounted for a significant portion of rural workers’ household budgets, second only to bread.³ The surge in cotton consumption coincided with a broader increase in material consumption among the upper classes, merchants, and artisans, reflecting shifting economic and social dynamics.
With no domestic cotton industry, France saw an opportunity to replicate these luxury textiles locally, eliminating the high costs of shipping from India. Artisans attempted to print designs on imported plain calicoes or domestically produced linen, but these imitations failed to rival the exquisite hand-painted fabrics from India. European manufacturers, constrained by their belief in India’s cultural inferiority, failed to recognize two critical factors: first, their own technical ignorance of the complex dyeing and printing processes, and second, how India’s unique natural environment—its geology, climate, and flora—provided essential advantages in textile production that could not be replicated in Europe’s northern latitudes.
The rise of Indian cotton textiles faced fierce resistance from domestic manufacturers. Alarmed by the growing popularity of these imports, French silk, linen, and wool producers successfully lobbied the government to implement sweeping protectionist measures. In 1686, authorities banned both the import of foreign printed cottons and their domestic imitation, even criminalizing the wearing of such fabrics.⁴ While similar prohibitions emerged across Europe, none matched the French restrictions in duration (lasting 73 years until 1759), scope, or severity of penalties.
Yet these measures proved largely ineffective. Smugglers continued to supply the coveted textiles, and consumer demand persisted unabated—evidenced most strikingly by the French elite’s open defiance of the ban, flaunting their prohibited indiennes in public. This conspicuous consumption underscored the limitations of mercantilist policies in the face of powerful fashion trends and consumer preferences.
The French government’s prohibitions directly contradicted the commercial interests of the French East India Company necessitating a solution to handle its now-illegal textile cargoes. The Compagnie devised a workaround by auctioning these goods with the mandatory condition that they be re-exported from France. This policy created an unexpected economic linkage: the only viable market for these vast quantities of confiscated indiennes emerged in Africa, where they became crucial trade goods for slave traders.
The textiles ultimately constituted nearly half of all cargo exchanged for enslaved Africans, alongside other commodities like arms, wine, spirits, and precious metals.⁵ As the Compagnie’s principal merchandise, these Indian cottons became economically indispensable to the functioning of the transatlantic slave trade, demonstrating how European protectionist policies inadvertently shaped colonial commerce patterns.
The story of Indian cotton in France reflects the disruptive power of global trade. Initially a luxury, indiennes became mass fashion—sparking protectionist bans that inadvertently fed the slave trade. Forced to re-export banned textiles, French merchants turned them into a key currency for purchasing enslaved Africans. This unintended consequence reveals how consumer demand and mercantilist policies could fuel colonial exploitation, binding fashion to violence in the early modern economy.
