Last week, a 19-year-old girl from Srinagar sat in an outpatient room with her back covered in red spots. She thought bed bugs had attacked. The culprit was the new pheran she bought from a street vendor for 450 rupees. The wrap looked bright, but the fabric was plastic.

Dermatologists report growing cases of skin infections. Most patients are young women who wear the cheap printed pherans that flood the market when the cold season begins. The garments feel warm for the first hour because plastic traps heat. After that, the skin begins to sweat, pores block, bacteria grow, and the itch starts.

For six hundred years, the pheran was made from local wool. It breathed, absorbed moisture, and carried the faint smell of sheep and smoke. Woollen yards still sell for 800 rupees a metre, out of reach for many families.

A printed polyester wrap looks like a bargain. It is not. Patients spend more on creams and bus fare to hospital than they saved on the fake dress.

The law already requires every textile seller to display fibre content in both English and Hindi. Few vendors bother. I asked three shopkeepers in Lal Chowk what their pherans contained. One said:“silk touch.” Another said,“warm cloth.” The third waved me away. None knew that polyester is plastic.

We cannot ban imports, but we can demand that the label carry the warning in Kashmiri:“This cloth does not absorb sweat. It may cause skin infection.”

The same rule that forces cigarette packs to show a cancer photo can force a clothing tag to tell the truth.

Some will argue that a warm look is better than no new coat at all. I argue that a government which spends crores on promoting local wool should not look away while plastic replaces it on the street.

If the heritage dress becomes linked to rash and ridicule, the next generation will drop it altogether.

The solution is simple: Give the buyer knowledge.

Let every imported pheran carry a clear tag in the language people read at home.

Sincerely,

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