I travel a lot, and I hunt for fabrics, then I have the tailor

Hear the words of Waris Ahluwalia, artist, traveler, and seeker of beauty: “I travel a lot, and I hunt for fabrics, then I have the tailor make me something.” Though these words may seem at first to speak of clothing alone, within them lies a profound teaching about creation, individuality, and the weaving of identity. For in this simple act of journeying, choosing, and shaping, Ahluwalia reveals the eternal rhythm of life itself: the gathering of raw material from the world, and the transformation of it into something that bears our unique spirit.

At the heart of this saying lies the symbolism of travel. To travel is not only to move across lands, but to expose the soul to variety—to colors, textures, and ideas that are foreign to one’s birthplace. Ahluwalia’s journeys for fabrics are more than errands; they are pilgrimages, quests for fragments of beauty scattered across the earth. Just as ancient merchants crossed deserts and seas to bring back silks, spices, and gems, so does he continue this noble lineage: the traveler as collector of wonder, gathering treasures that embody the spirit of faraway lands.

Then comes the act of hunting for fabrics. This is no passive wandering, but an attentive search. To hunt is to seek with purpose, with eyes sharpened for detail, with patience for discovery. Each fabric is more than cloth—it is memory woven into thread, culture captured in color, tradition hidden in texture. When Ahluwalia chooses a fabric, he is not simply selecting material; he is recognizing and honoring the spirit of a place, capturing its voice in a form that can be carried and worn.

Finally, he entrusts the fabric to the tailor, who shapes it into something that belongs to him alone. This act of tailoring is symbolic of the human condition. We all receive from the world raw experiences, influences, and gifts. But it is not enough to gather—we must shape them into garments of meaning that clothe our lives. The tailor is the craftsman of transformation, turning what is found into what is lived. Thus, Ahluwalia’s words speak to the eternal cycle of discovery, creation, and embodiment.

This wisdom echoes through history. Think of Alexander the Great, who, though conqueror, was also collector of cultures. Wherever he traveled, he carried pieces of the lands into his empire, blending Greek and Eastern traditions into something new. Or think of the Silk Road, where traders, pilgrims, and scholars exchanged not only fabrics and goods, but also ideas, philosophies, and art. Each traveler became a tailor of civilizations, weaving threads from many lands into the fabric of human culture.

There is also a lesson of individuality. In an age where many wear what is given to them by the world, Ahluwalia chooses instead to craft something unique. He does not simply accept what hangs on the rack, ready-made and impersonal. He seeks, he chooses, he transforms, until the final garment is his and his alone. This is a call to all: do not let your life be a ready-made thing. Travel through the world, hunt for what speaks to your soul, and tailor it into a life that bears your mark, not another’s.

The lesson, then, is this: life itself is fabric, and you are the tailor of your destiny. In practice, seek out experiences, ideas, and relationships as a traveler hunts for cloth. Do not settle for what is nearest; wander, search, and collect. Then, with intention and discipline, shape them into something that expresses your truest self. Live not in garments borrowed, but in garments woven from your own discoveries.

Thus, the words of Waris Ahluwalia endure not as a reflection on fashion alone, but as a metaphor for the art of living. To travel, to hunt, to tailor—this is the path of creation. And those who walk it will find that their lives, like their garments, are not mere coverings, but radiant works of art, stitched from the fabric of the world and made uniquely their own.