An Indian saree, six yards of utter simplicity and audacity, is the perfect garment. Folded, it looks severe and perplexing, like an extra-long bed sheet. Draped, it transforms itself and its wearer. No apparel so embodies the spirit of the region it represents. The saree suggests at once the minimalism of the ascetic and the sensuality of the tropics: lushness, sweat, sparkling white cotton, bare caramel-to-cocoa skin, loose folds of clothing that easily pull on and off.

No other garment is as antique and yet contemporary. The saree was worn by women of the Indian subcontinent thousands of years ago — and still is. No other civilization has spawned a garment that has survived so long, and yet even managed to thumb its nose at being embalmed in a museum.

The saree is worn at home and work by millions of Indian women from all walks of life. It is the perfect garment to be totally pregnant in or walk down a fashion ramp in; to transplant rice or to construct roads in; to take a presidential salute in; to get married in; to wash dishes in; to offer sports commentary in; to breastfeed a baby with total ease and modesty in; to wear to a board meeting in; to pray in or sleep in; to be covered from head to toe in; or to seduce a lover in.

No other garment is as versatile. In which other country could a nun like Mother Teresa and a Miss Universe winner wear exactly the same garment?

But the saree is becoming endangered. Pants or salwar kameez — a tunic with loose pants and a scarf — are becoming the daily clothing of choice for many urban Indian women. They are easier to wear and wash. They are seen as modern and more modest. They are more suited to the daily fight of throwing elbows in crowds and avoiding the lewd attentions of men. The saree is still a long way from being written off as a ceremonial and impractical garment like the kimono, but for increasing numbers of Indian women, sarees stay folded in wardrobes and are brought out for weddings and special occasions.

Can Entrepreneurs Revive the Saree?