Luxury in India has packed its monogrammed bags and relocated—happily—to the Insta-loving plains of Punjab, Haryana, and Chandigarh. According to Tata CLiQ Luxury’s latest Luxe Life dossier, the brand clocked a 30 per cent revenue jump this fiscal, with a staggering 55 per cent of sales now flying out to non-metro pin codes—from Botad to, yes, Barnala.
Why are smaller towns binge-buying Balenciaga? Simple: there’s nowhere else to go. Knight Frank estimates that tier-II cities account for just one-fourth of India’s modern shopping-centre space. That means no Cartier counters, no Hermès handle-sniffing, just Wi-Fi, a debit card and a courier able to navigate unnamed gullies. E-commerce hasn’t just disrupted luxury—it has filled a Hermes-shaped hole in the retail map.
Chandigarh is where Le Corbusier meets Le Couturier. Here, high incomes and even higher social media metrics have turned Madhya Marg and the geri route into an open-air catwalk. Locals track their morning steps on Cartier Santos watches—strictly “aesthetic cardio”, mind you. When Tata CLiQ’s servers crash at midnight on a sneaker drop, half the IP addresses read “1600xx”.
In Panchkula, it’s millionaires, mango pickle and Mercs. With a per-capita income 44 per cent above the national average, boutique gyms offer towel embroidery to match your Dior Book Tote—protein shake not included. The Mercedes showroom stays open well into gol-gappa hour; half the test drives are booked online, sight unseen.
Karnal goes one better. Once a highway dhaba stop, it now houses a four-storey Luxury Ride depot with 150-plus pre-owned Bentleys and buddies under one roof. Farmers roll in on Range Rovers, trade up to fresher Range Rovers, and still make it back for lassi by dusk. Karnal has gone from Highway Halwa to Highway Dior.
Ludhiana, the land of knitwear kings, now boasts 2,500 luxury cars—and counting. That’s more Mercedes than certain European micro-states. With per-capita income brushing Rs 2 lakh, hosiery wholesalers are swapping yarn counts for carat counts.
And Amritsar? Think blessings, Birkins and border-run buyers. Mall Road jewellers never sleep, thanks to well-heeled NRIs. There’s a 4,000-sq-ft Malabar Gold flagship store, and fashion chains are muscling in faster than the municipal corporation can widen the pavement.
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What ties these cities together is a potent cocktail of diaspora dollars, fibre-broadband and Insta-fuelled aspiration. Scroll beats stroll, as high-definition AR try-ons and 48-hour returns simulate the mall experience—minus parking. Buy Now Pay Later is the new BFF, melting sticker shock faster than Amritsar’s famed jalebi syrup.
Micro-influencers from Mohali, say insiders, move more handbags than Bollywood stars. And as rupee wobbles inflate a €2,500 price tag into a Kaun Banega Crorepati question, affordability tools make luxury look less like a splurge and more like smart shopping.
With Chandigarh’s GDP per capita already nudging Portugal’s, and HENRYs (High-Earning-Not-Rich-Yet) popping up every appraisal season, the click-to-chic curve is less rollercoaster and more runway. Karnal’s tractor-funded prosperity puts it 15 per cent above the national income average.
So what does this mean for legacy brands still hogging space at Emporio Mall? First, polish your Punjabi and Haryanvi. “Size wadda aa?” will outsell any Parisian accent. Authenticity is the new exclusivity. Second, think pop-up over palace. Studio vans orbiting Chandigarh’s golf courses during the wedding season move more inventory than a store with a 20-year lease.
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Small-town India’s luxury surge isn’t a fad. It’s a market correction. Deprive a well-heeled town of physical boutiques, and don’t be surprised when its residents overcompensate online.
So the next time someone in a metro sneers, “Real fashion happens in Mumbai,” remind them: luxury, like good humour and high-speed data, now rolls where tractors once did.
(The writer is a former IRS officer and an author)
