Kurta, Coffee and the Orange Economy

A light drizzle had settled over Sanjay Van when Arsh and Shreya slipped into a nearby café. Childhood friends, they had followed different creative paths: Shreya was an architect drawn to craft and design; Arsh created videos about places, books, films and the details that make an experience memorable.

The café spoke to both of them. Leaf-patterned green walls, rough wooden tables and animal-shaped cutlery carried its forest theme through every detail. Nothing – the furniture, colours, lighting or menu seemed accidental. An ordinary cup of coffee had been turned into a carefully designed experience.

Arsh admired Shreya’s kurta and asked where she had found it. A short video, she explained, had appeared while she was searching online for something else; one click led to another, and soon the kurta was on its way to her. Arsh then showed her a Pinterest board for an upcoming video, filled with textile patterns, interiors, jewellery, typography, packaging and fragments of local architecture.

Their exchange revealed a larger creative chain. 

The kurta, the video that introduced it, the platform that carried the video, the photography that made it appealing and the story that persuaded someone to buy it were all connected. So were the café’s interiors, branding and the experience built around its coffee.

These are part of the orange economy, also called the creative economy. It broadly covers activities that turn ideas into cultural and creative goods or services, often with value tied to intellectual property. Art, craft, publishing, film, music, fashion, architecture, design, advertising, gaming and digital media all form part of this expanding landscape. Its chief raw materials are imagination, knowledge, skill, heritage and technology.

Our devices now carry an entire creative marketplace: a film streamed online, a book discovered through a reel, a design-concept saved on Pinterest, jewellery ordered from an independent label or music accompanying a short video. But the orange economy is not confined to screens. It also lives in handwoven fabric, choreography, packaging, furniture and the atmosphere of a thoughtfully designed café.

Digital access has given creators greater independence. Artists no longer have to wait for galleries to notice them; filmmakers can reach viewers without conventional distributors; designers can test and refine ideas through direct feedback. A home-based entrepreneur can turn a specialised skill into income, while a small business can work with creators rather than rely only on expensive traditional advertising.

For women, artisans and creators outside major commercial centres, this opening can be especially meaningful. Someone who embroiders, paints, cooks, sings, dances or makes jewellery can reach audiences far beyond their neighbourhood. Video can reveal the hands behind an object, the story of a motif and the value that distinguishes handmade work from mass production. When visibility brings fair remuneration and sustained demand, creativity becomes not only self-expression but agency.

The orange economy restores attention to cultural forms dismissed as ordinary, old-fashioned or invisible. The 2025 debate around Prada’s Milan runway is a telling example. Sandals in the brand’s Spring/Summer 2026 men’s collection closely resembled Kolhapuri chappals, a traditional Indian craft of Maharashtra and Karnataka. The initial lack of acknowledgement drew criticism and Prada later recognised the inspiration. This opened a wider conversation about collaboration with Indian artisans.

This episode carries both promise and warning. Global attention can revive interest in a traditional craft, but visibility alone is not empowerment. Those who inherit and sustain a cultural practice must receive credit, opportunity and a fair share of its economic value. Intellectual property protection, geographical indications, ethical collaboration and clear attribution are therefore central to ensuring that it benefits original creators.

Looking around the café, Shreya observed that architecture had changed in much the same way. Businesses no longer wanted only functional rooms; they wanted spaces that told stories and kept customers engaged. A restaurant might draw its menu and interiors from regional food traditions. A store might use local materials to express its values. A brand might commission illustrators, musicians, photographers and craftspeople to create an identity people recognise and remember.

Arsh saw the same cycle in digital work: a creator presents an idea, the audience responds, that response becomes insight, and the next version becomes more thoughtful. Used responsibly, feedback and data can help businesses understand what people value. Yet numbers should guide creativity, not flatten it. Culture cannot be reduced to what is currently popular, nor can creators build secure lives on visibility alone. Digital reach must be matched by fair contracts, transparent platforms and respect for ownership.

The orange economy can shape more than consumption. Songs and dances preserved online can carry cultural memory to younger audiences. Videos about littering, cruelty or unsafe behaviour can turn storytelling into civic participation. Design can make information clearer, spaces more accessible and everyday life more humane. At its best, creativity does more than make the world attractive; it changes how people see it and what they believe can be improved.

By the time Arsh and Shreya finished their coffee, a new idea had emerged: a brand built around the living cultures of nearby communities. Shreya could bring architecture and craft into its physical form; Arsh could document the people behind the work and carry their stories to wider audiences. Women working from home, local artisans, singers and dancers would not serve as decorative inspiration, but participate as collaborators and beneficiaries.

As they stepped outside, Arsh and Shreya carried with them more than a business idea. They had begun to see creativity not as a finishing touch added to an object, a room or a campaign, but as a network of relationships: between memory and invention, creator and audience, visibility and value. The orange economy is at its brightest when those relationships remain honest—when culture can travel without being stripped of its source, and success can return to the people whose imagination set it in motion.

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