Category: 5. Entertainment

Mammals, most prominently carnivorous species, use scent-marking as a crucial form of communication. Lions, for example, use urine, faeces, and secretions from scent glands to leave behind long-lasting chemical signals on trees and trails. While these are invisible to the human eye, they carry a meaning for other lions in that area.

A study conducted in Gujarat’s Gir Forest focussed on decoding some of this hidden communication. “This is the first detailed scientific study of scent-marking in free-ranging Asiatic lions, and it reveals how scent is a powerful tool for territory defence, mate attraction, and social interaction,” says Mohan Ram, Divisional Forest Officer, Wildlife Division, Sasan-Gir, Gir National Park and Sanctuary, and one of the lead researchers.

Leaving a mark

Gir Forest, which includes a national park and sanctuary, is spread across nearly 1,900 square kilometres in Gujarat’s Saurashtra region. It is home to over 40 species of mammals, including leopards, hyenas, and jackals, but the lion is its undisputed icon. To understand how the big cats use scent to communicate, researchers collaborated with Gir’s seasoned field trackers. These experts helped identify trees that showed signs of regular scratching and are favoured spots for lion scent-marking.

At 36 such locations, the team installed motion-triggered infrared cameras between March 2022 and April 2024. “Across three seasons, we faced all kinds of challenges, from sensor triggers caused by birds or wind to monsoon rains that washed away scent marks. Reaching camera trap locations during heavy rain was a task in itself. Plus, the volume of data collected was enormous, and it took a lot of effort to sift through and sort out usable footage,” says Ram.

Each time a lion passed by the cameras captured a short video and a photograph. In total, they logged over 15,000 wildlife detections, of which 1,542 featured lions. Every lion video was carefully analysed for specific behaviours such as sniffing, scratching, spraying, rubbing, and even climbing. “Camera trapping helped us capture behaviour without disturbing the lions. We also kept the camera settings standard across sites and seasons to ensure consistency,” says Ram.

Researchers also documented tree characteristics such as species, height, girth, and proximity to roads or water to understand what made certain trees more likely to be used as scent posts.

The data was then grouped by season, time of day, the lion’s age and sex, and the traits of the marked trees. Using statistical tools, the team mapped out behavioural patterns and scent-marking preferences across the Gir landscape.

Marking scent part of daily routine

Among all observed behaviours, sniffing was the most common, accounting for nearly 40% of the recorded actions. This was followed by scratching (30%) and spraying (12%). Young lions were more likely to climb trees, possibly as playful behaviour or a way of learning.

Males were the more active scent-markers, often around pride territories. Females also left their mark, especially when they were in heat. “It’s a key part of territorial and reproductive strategy in a species with such a limited geographic range. Sub-adults were also seen using the same trees repeatedly, almost like they were learning how to mark territory,” says Ram.

Most of these behaviours occurred in the early morning hours, with scratching and spraying peaking at 3:44 a.m. and 4:17 a.m. respectively. This pattern suggests that scent-marking is a deliberate and well-timed part of the lions’ daily routines.

Winter turned out to be the busiest season for scent-marking. This aligns with the peak of lion mating season, highlighting the link between chemical communication and reproduction.
“Cooler temperatures meant more lion movement, which led to more marking. Interestingly, lions often chose tilted trees (around 45 degrees) because the spray lands better and holds fragrance longer, especially in the monsoon,” says Ram.

Identifying a good marking spot

Lions also didn’t mark trees at random. They showed clear preferences for certain species, especially Butea monosperma and Syzygium cumini. “We noticed that the lions preferred trees with soft bark or gum, species with strong secondary metabolites, likely because the scent tends to linger longer. Teak trees were avoided; the bark is too hard to claw,” says Ram.

Location played a key role too. Most of the marked trees were near forest trails and water sources. Trails serve as lion highways, ideal places to advertise presence to rivals or potential mates. “The preferred trees were often near trails, indicating lions may be aligning marking behaviour with movement corridors, possibly even taking human presence into account,” explains Ram.

Moist environments may also help preserve chemical signals for longer durations. Scrub habitats, in particular, recorded more scent-marking activity. Their open structure likely makes scent-posts more visible and accessible.

Why studying behaviour matters

Asiatic lions differ from their African counterparts in many ways. They live in smaller groups, don’t breed in synchrony, and are confined to a single, limited landscape in western India. These unique conditions shape how they interact, compete, and survive.

By identifying where and when scent-marking takes place, this study offers valuable insights into lion behaviour. The findings can help conservationists refine strategies for habitat protection, water management, boundary marking, and lion monitoring ensuring the continued survival of India’s last wild lions. “Knowing which tree species lions prefer can guide habitat improvement efforts. It can even help prevent poaching by identifying high-use marking spots,” says Ram.

The researchers recommend that future studies combine scent-marking data with GPS collaring to track individual lions over time. This approach could reveal more details such as whether specific lions favour particular trees, and how their marking behaviours shift with seasons, age, or social status. All these insights could be particularly valuable as the lion population eventually grows and begins expanding into Gir’s neighbouring areas. “It can directly inform habitat planning beyond Gir, and support strategies for lion movement and coexistence with local communities,” Ram says.

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Read more: Asiatic lion population has grown 172% in 25 years

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Banner image: A study found that among all observed behaviours of Gir lions, sniffing was the most common, accounting for nearly 40% of the recorded actions. Image by Mohan Ram.

LONDON — The National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne, Australia’s largest and oldest public art gallery, plans to take a look at two groundbreaking female designers, Vivienne Westwood and Rei Kawakubo, whose careers evolved in parallel, and who both had a taste for provocation.

The show, “Westwood | Kawakubo,” will run from Dec. 7 until April 19 and marks the first time the designers’ fashion has been shown side by side, despite all they had in common.

“They were born within a year of each other, on different sides of the world, and were both self-taught. Both had groundbreaking moments in 1981, with Westwood showing in London, and Kawakubo in Paris,” said Katie Somerville, senior curator, fashion and textiles at the NGV, in an interview.

The similarities don’t end there. Westwood’s 1981 show, which she did with her then-husband and collaborator Malcolm McLaren, was called Pirate, while Kawakubo’s outing for her fledgling label Comme des Garçons was titled Pirates.

Although the women’s aesthetics were different, their mindset was often similar. Both pushed the limits of convention, examined the complex relationship between clothes and the body, and brought historical dress into their work.

“Their work has never been about going quietly — or presenting what’s expected,” Somerville said.

The show will feature more than 140 designs, most of them from the museum’s own collection, with the rest from private collections and institutions including London’s Victoria & Albert Museum, Palais Galliera in Paris and the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

Somerville said that while they were organizing the show, the NGV received a “transformative” donation of more than 40 recent works from Comme des Garçons. They will also feature in the show.

The exhibition has been organized by theme, and looks at the designers’ embrace of provocation; menswear and tailoring; historical costume, and the female body. It also looks at both women’s ability to make statements about politics and the environment through their designs.  

Exhibition highlights include Westwood’s punk ensembles from the late 1970s, popularized by London bands such as The Sex Pistols and Siousie Sioux; a romantic tartan gown from Westwood’s Anglomania collection worn by Kate Moss on the runway in the early 1990s, and the original version of the corseted wedding dress worn by Sarah Jessica Parker in “Sex and The City: The Movie.”

Kawakubo’s works include a sculptural petal ensemble worn by Rihanna on the red carpet and dramatic abstract works that challenge the relationship between the body and clothing. They include gingham sculptural designs from the Body Meets Dress — Dress Meets Body collection from spring 1997.

While the museum has a strong tradition of showcasing fashion, this is the first time it has put two designers side by side.

“At the NGV, we’ve carved out an innovative model of presenting shows where we pair artists,” said Somerville, adding that recent — and successful — shows have looked at Andy Warhol alongside Ai Wei Wei, and Keith Haring in tandem with Jean-Michel Basquiat.  

“We’ve never done one focusing on fashion — or women — and we thought it was a brilliant way” to do both, she said.

“We’ve learned from doing those projects that if you pick two really significant, impactful [artists] and put them together, a whole other layer of things is revealed, other points of connection — and absolute divergence,” she added.

The NGV plans to mark the opening of the exhibition — its annual summer blockbuster show — with a gala on Dec. 6 at NGV International. 

“No, no, no!” exclaims an affronted Monica Venturi at the idea that anybody might attempt to pass off spaghetti bolognese as an authentically Italian dish.

Her face is stricken at the thought of adding ragù (meat sauce) to spaghetti and then misnaming it, when, as everybody in her hometown of Bologna knows instinctively, “spaghetti alla bolognese does not exist”.

Monica, as a decades-long veteran pasta-maker along with her sister Daniela Venturi, does not invite argument on her specialist subject.

In fact, the sisters explain, the real spaghetti alla bolognese is made with tuna, tomato and onion, topped off with fresh parsley. And although tuna is a fish, and Italians generally shy away from cheese on seafood, they like to add parmesan. This is because, says Monica, “for Bolognesi people, tuna is not a fish”.

The pasta-making duo are in Dublin as part of a partnership with Birra Moretti which will see them host a two-night pop-up Nonna’s Kitchen at the end of July. At home in Bologna, they run a classic pasta shop, Le Sfogline, where they handmake as much as 60kg of fresh pasta on their busiest week. In the pasta business for almost 30 years and both having nonna (grandmother) status, the sisters know everything about how it should be cooked, eaten and enjoyed.

For the record, the authentic version of the food Irish people like to call spaghetti bolognese is tagliatelle al ragù, ribbon-shaped pasta with slow-cooked meat sauce. The sisters warn that even if you know this, it’s dangerously easy to fall down with the ingredients by using too much of the base mix of celery, carrots and onions.

“You must be aware of this because if you put in too much, it becomes very heavy. And you only taste the three vegetables. This is a mistake I’ve noticed,” says Monica.

Warming to the theme of non-expert pasta gaffes, Monica says the other area where we often tip ourselves into absolute failure is overcooking pasta.

Obeying the “al dente” (literally, to the tooth) rule, where pasta is cooked just to the point of firmness before veering into sogginess, is crucial, the sisters agree. This is especially true for their fresh pasta with eggs, says Daniela. “It cooks very fast.”

And then we get to lasagne, or lasagna – the lasagna is a single layer of sheet pasta, while lasagne is the plural. There is disapproval on the sisters’ faces when they acknowledge that people in France sometimes eat the dish with a mixed salad, but sheer disbelief when they’re told it is generally served with chips in Ireland. News of garlic bread often being heaped on the side as well prompts such uncomfortable laughter that it seems wise to avoid talk of coleslaw.

Daily lasagne-maker Daniela, who says she still can’t resist sampling her wares after all these years, isn’t giving up on us though. She has a key tip on how to handle béchamel, the white sauce used between lasagna layers.

“You don’t see béchamel when lasagne is ready to eat,” she says, with Monica adding that the sauce is there “for keeping lasagne just a little bit softer”. In other words, a little white sauce goes a long way.

The bread and butter of their business though is tortellini, the small ring-shaped pasta filled with meat that was historically served by Bolognesi at Christmas but is now sold and eaten all year round. The main rule here is to avoid smothering the golden circles of deliciousness in heavy sauces. In fact, you should probably avoid the sauce altogether, and serve it simply “in brodo”, or broth.

This makes sense when you hear of the richness that goes into making the sisters’ top-end tortellini: “Pork loin cooked in butter, mortadella, Parma ham, Parmigiano 36 months old, eggs – it’s that rich that you cannot hide with a sauce,” says Monica.

However, she does admit to occasionally succumbing to a light sauce involving some grated parmesan, two or three spoons of the traditional broth that accompanies the tortellini and fresh cream, but says “just a little” is plenty. “Personally, I don’t like to cover something with sauce even if it’s good.”

She also likes to mop up sauces with bread, believing politeness has no place in such matters.

Despite being Bologna’s queens of home-made pasta, the Venturi sisters do not scoff at dried pasta, especially with fish, which they say does not combine well with the eggs in fresh pasta. Unsurprisingly though, not every dried pasta passes muster. Both recommend Pasta di Gragnano, which is made by mixing durum wheat grown at the Monti Lattari in southern Italy with the local waters. Where this isn’t available, a good rule of thumb, according to Monica, is to go with dried pasta with longer cooking times.

In general, she says she is fairly “straight” when it comes to Italian recipes, believing there’s no reason to mess around with them when they are already proven. She shudders at “terrible” innovations such as adding pineapple to pizza, while Daniela is ashen at the idea of “pizza with chips”.

So, after all these years of making pasta for the people of their native city, do the sisters still eat it every day?

“Oh, yeah,” they reply instantly, with the small qualification that they limit portion sizes to about 200g and avoid “a huge amount” of sauce. They like to try other foods when travelling however, singling out Ireland’s “wonderful meat” for praise but expressing dismay at paying €4 or more for a coffee in Dublin, when a good cup can still be found for … wait for it … €1.30 in Bologna.

Birra Moretti’s Nonna’s Kitchen will take place at Fumbally Stables, Dublin 8, on July 23rd and 24th. Tickets at €30 will be sold on Eventbrite from July 3rd

What sparked the ideal of peace, love and understanding of the 1960s? In The Last Great Dream, Dennis McNally, the longtime publicist of the Grateful Dead, explores the roots of San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury hippies. It’s the “fourth and last instalment” of McNally’s work documenting the history of the counterculture, following books about Jack Kerouac and the Beats; the Grateful Dead; and the relationship between Black music and white culture.

McNally traces the precursors of hippie culture to 1942, and the first meeting between Bay area poets Robert Duncan and Kenneth Rexroth, who would “become the nucleus of a remarkably powerful gathering of poets over the next decade”. Artists began to question societal values during the war, prompted by the internment of Japanese Americans, the threat of atomic annihilation and the McCarthyism that followed. While the GI Bill’s provision of financial and educational benefits for veterans bolstered the pursuit of the American dream, the Beats espoused what McNally calls the “bohemian code”: that “a life of art and spirituality was preferable to money and the pursuit of power”.

The Last Great Dream is an encyclopedic survey, with music acting as the glue between various art forms. McNally does a good job of showing the web of connections between artists from different disciplines. Unfortunately, completism can come at the expense of readability. Although he conducted some 60 interviews for the project, the book reads more like a compendium of Wikipedia entries than first-person accounts of sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll.

While bohemian scenes blossomed in tandem in New York, LA and London, “San Franciscans went further and deeper”, McNally argues. By 1967, a new vision of freedom and sexuality was in place but the “catalyst” of the counterculture, McNally writes, was LSD. At the Human Be-In, a gathering of 30,000 hippies in Golden Gate Park that year, Timothy Leary, the Harvard psychologist turned acid evangelist, led the crowd in chanting his mantra: “Turn on, tune in, drop out.”

Ample ink has been spilled on the megalomaniacal Leary but the story of his fourth wife and fellow fugitive Rosemary Woodruff tails off after their split. Susannah Cahalan, a journalist with an interest in altered states since being diagnosed with autoimmune encephalitis (the subject of her bestselling 2012 memoir, Brain on Fire), wrote The Acid Queen to prevent Woodruff from fading into a footnote in Leary’s legacy.

A high-school dropout, Woodruff arrived in New York from the Midwest in 1953. Twice divorced by 21, once from a jazz accordionist, she worked as a model and stewardess (an industry “harder to get into than Harvard”, writes Cahalan), until she aged out of the skies at 30. Fleeing an abusive relationship, she met Leary, 15 years her senior, at his psychedelic commune upstate in 1965.

Cahalan makes a case for Woodruff’s contribution to the psychedelic movement during her seven-year relationship with Leary. She spoke to the press, fundraised, edited his books and wrote his speeches, including for a failed gubernatorial run in California against Ronald Reagan. She also cared for his two children, who had lost their mother, Marianne Busch, to suicide. The well-worn phrase “if you can remember the 1960s, then you weren’t really there” luckily doesn’t apply to Woodruff, who at least took good notes. Her archives include diary entries, letters, trip reports and a posthumously published memoir, which Cahalan rounds out with interviews with those who knew her.

It’s a colourful story, involving love triangles, drug busts and the dramatic jailbreak of Leary, who was serving a 20-year sentence for marijuana possession. The couple fled to Algeria, became wards of the Black Panthers and were then sheltered by an arms dealer in Switzerland. Woodruff’s life underground — once Leary was caught in Afghanistan and returned to the US in 1973 — had her hiding in Italy, Colombia and the Caribbean before living under an assumed name in Cape Cod, unable to afford the “mouthful of fillings” she had needed since their escape.

Well researched, The Acid Queen paints an unflattering portrait of Leary. While Cahalan gives him credit for his contribution to the early days of psychedelic research, his lack of political engagement became increasingly dangerous as “dropping out” left young men susceptible to the draft. He was a neglectful father and didn’t visit Woodruff in jail when she served time for refusing to testify against him in a grand jury. His values were not particularly progressive: he treated women as free domestic labour and never accepted the bisexuality of his former colleague Richard Alpert (aka Ram Dass).

Leary was disavowed by the psychedelic community for co-operating with the Feds to reduce his sentence, after which he lived a life of debauched semi-celebrity until his death, aged 75, in 1996, with his ashes blasted into space. Woodruff, meanwhile, remained undercover for more than 20 years, until a judge threw out the charges against her in 1994. Despite Leary trying to entice her out of hiding to save himself, they reconciled: she was the executor of his estate. Woodruff died in 2002, at 66, of congestive heart failure.

Taken together, The Last Great Dream and The Acid Queen raise the question of the legacy of the 1960s. Despite the consciousness-raising potential of psychedelics, Cahalan warns that today’s renewed interest carries the same risks of “evangelism and hubris”. While hippies may not have succeeded in changing politics, they have had a lasting impact on the culture, McNally holds, including organic food, yoga, LGBTQ rights and computing. “The dream died,” he concludes, “but the dreaming continues.”

The Last Great Dream: How Bohemians Became Hippies and Created the Sixties by Dennis McNally Hachette £28, 461 pages

The Acid Queen: The Psychedelic Life of Rosemary Woodruff Leary by Susannah Cahalan Canongate £22, 384 pages

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Looking for a hint for today’s Connections puzzle? Below, we have clues to help you unlock whichever category has you stumped for the puzzle on July 1, 2025.

Connections first launched on the New York Times in June 2023. The premise is deceptively simple: Players have to find the thematic connection of four groups of four words … without making more than four mistakes.

Today’s Connections has categories about getting ready, staying chic and more.

Below are the hints, categories and answers for today’s Connections game, puzzle #751, on July 1.

A hint for each Connections category today, July 1

Yellow group hint: What thieves do

Green group hint: What commuters do

Blue group hint: What “suave” means

Purple group hint: What “Papa Was a Rollin’ —” is missing

A word in each Connections category today, July 1

Yellow group word: Pinch

Green group word: Shower

Blue group word: Tidy

Purple group word: Mile

Connections categories today, July 1

Yellow group category: Steal

Green group category: Do some grooming

Blue group category: Dapper

Purple group category: ____ stone

Here are the answers to Connections today, July 1

What are the yellow words in today’s Connections?

Steal: Nick, palm, pinch, pocket

What are the green words in today’s Connections?

Do some grooming: Brush, dress, shave, shower

What are the blue words in today’s Connections?

Dapper: Neat, sharp, smart, tidy

What are the purple words in today’s Connections?

____ stone: Birth, key, mile, touch

Netflix is not always known for its restraint in the documentary genre, but with its outstanding recent film Grenfell: Uncovered, and now Attack on London: Hunting the 7/7 Bombers, it appears to be finding a new maturity and seriousness in the field. There have been plenty of recent documentaries on the subject of the attacks and the sprawling investigation that followed – no surprise, given that it is the 20th anniversary this week – but there is still real depth to be found here.

Over four parts, this thorough series unravels the initial attacks on the London transport system, which killed 52 people and injured more than 700, then follows that febrile month into the failed bombings of 21 July, and then the police shooting of the innocent Jean Charles de Menezes, a day later. The first 25 minutes or so simply recount those first attacks, compiling the story using phone pictures, news footage, occasional reconstructions, the infamous photographs of the injured pouring out of tube stations and accounts from survivors and the families of victims. Though it is by now a familiar story, this evokes the fear, confusion and panic of that day in heart-racing detail.

In those details, it is unsparing and frequently horrifying. Daniel Biddle lost his legs in the explosion at Edgware Road. His memory of locking eyes with the man who would shortly detonate the bomb in his bag is chilling, and his account of his fight to survive is as gripping as it is brutal. Others talk about the chaos, the noise, the screaming. One woman, who had managed to jump on the 30 bus near Tavistock Square in all of the transport disarray, recounts getting a text from her boyfriend at the time, saying: “You were right, they were bombs.” She had just put her phone back in her pocket after reading it, she says, when the bus exploded.

Those attacks led to the largest criminal investigation ever seen in the UK, which is the primary focus of all four episodes. These were the first suicide bombings to take place on British soil, and police did not know, immediately, that the bombers had also blown themselves up. The revelation about how they came to suspect this – from evidence gathered in one of the tube carriages – is gruesome and fascinating. Explosives expert Cliff Todd talks of material and techniques he had never seen before, and the work that went into tracking down those responsible – and attempting to prevent further attacks – is astonishing in its scale and reach.

This is not simply a police procedural – and that strengthens it greatly. It is impressively comprehensive, taking in the political and media climate of the time. There are interviews with Eliza Manningham-Buller, then director general of MI5, as well as the former prime minister Tony Blair. It even puts the crucial question to Blair: did the invasion of Iraq in 2003 lead directly to these attacks in Britain? His answer is politician-like and broad, but at least it asks the question, and offers context to attacks that did not happen in a vacuum.

Another survivor, Mustafa Kurtuldu, recalls his experience of being on the tube near Aldgate when his train was blown up. When he was finally removed from the carriage and taken out of the station, police searched his bag. There is footage of an appearance on GMTV, just days later, when the presenter asks him how he feels about the attacks, “as a Muslim”. When the investigation moves to Beeston, in Leeds – where two of the four attackers were from – a youth worker in the Muslim community talks about the realisation that, as after 9/11, he would be asked, once more, to apologise for the actions of extremists.

The third episode deals with the failed attacks on 21 July. There are eyewitness accounts of the explosions that went wrong – chilling and eerie, in their own way – the subsequent hunt for the four men who escaped is, again, astonishing in its scope. The next day, the 27-year-old Brazilian electrician Jean Charles de Menezes was on his way to work when he was described as behaving in an “edgy” manner by police who had mistakenly identified him as a suspect. He was shot dead. One of the officers who pulled the trigger speaks here, his identity disguised.

Again, the strength of Attack on London is in the details. When officers finally caught up with Yassin Omar – who had attempted to blow up Warren Street and had fled to Birmingham disguised in a burqa – he was standing in a bath with a backpack on. Fittingly, though, this does not end with the attackers, but with the survivors and their relatives. It strikes a careful balance throughout.

Freddie Mercury’s performance with Queen at Live Aid in 1985 is often seen as the crowning glory of one of the greatest showmen the world has ever seen.

But he still needed some very clear instructions from Bob Geldof, the festival’s organiser, before going out on stage. “Don’t get clever,” the Boomtown Rats frontman told him, according to fellow Queen members Roger Taylor and Brian May. “Just play the hits – you have 17 minutes.”

Twenty years after Live Aid, Queen’s six-song performance was voted the world’s greatest rock gig. During the short set, Mercury had 72,000 people clapping as one. Speaking to the Radio Times, Taylor, the band’s drummer, said: “During Radio Ga Ga, it did seem that the whole stadium was in unison. But then I looked up during We Are the Champions, and the crowd looked like a whole field of wheat swaying.”

The performance might never have happened, too, if it were not for the persuasive powers of May, Queen’s lead guitarist. “We weren’t touring or playing, and it seemed like a crazy idea, this talk of having 50 bands on the same bill,” May said. “I said to Freddie: ‘If we wake up on the day after this Live Aid show and we haven’t been there, we’re going to be pretty sad.’ He said: ‘Oh, fuck it, we’ll do it.’”

He added: “It was one of the few moments in anyone’s life that you know you’re doing something for all the right reasons.”

The singer was not the only one who wasn’t immediately convinced that Queen should even play that day. It has previously been reported that Geldof was reluctant too.

Speaking to Mojo magazine earlier this month, the promoter Harvey Goldsmith said he and Geldof were working together on the lineup. “Being the producer, I understood how slots work and who went where. I was also dealing with the technical side: we were doing two shows [London and Philadelphia] and had to stay strictly to time because of the satellite.

“I thought about it, and said for the late afternoon slot the perfect act would be Queen. Bob said: ‘No, they’ve peaked. I don’t think they should play! I said to Bob, I really think they’ll be perfect to go on in that 5.30, 6 o’clock type slot – knowing Freddie as I did, I knew they’d really make a show of it.

New Delhi, India — When models sashayed down the ramp at Milan Fashion Week last week, Harish Kurade looked at them on his smartphone in awe, sitting in his village in southern Maharashtra state, more than 7,000km (4,350 miles) away.

Models were showcasing a new line of open-toe leather sandals, designed by Prada, the iconic luxury fashion house. However, in India, the visuals raised a furore among artisans and politicians after the Italian giant failed to credit the ancient Maharashtra roots of its latest design.

“They [Prada] stole and replicated our crafty work, but we are really happy,” said Kurade in a chirpy tone. “Today, the world’s eyes are on our Kolhapuri ‘chappals’ [Hindi for sandals].” Kolhapur is a city in Maharashtra after which the sandals are named.

After facing backlash, Prada acknowledged that its new sandal designs “are inspired by traditional Indian handcrafted footwear, with a centuries-old heritage”, in a letter to the Maharashtra Chamber of Commerce.

While Kurade is chuffed about the centuries-old sandal-making craft from his village potentially gaining global exposure, other artisans, politicians and activists are wary of cultural appropriation and financial exploitation by Prada.

So, what is the controversy about? And what are artisans in Kolhapur saying about Prada? Can it change anything for the workers behind the original sandals?

What did Prada step into?

Prada showcased the classic T-strapped leather flats at the Spring/Summer 2026 menswear collection at Milan Fashion Week.

In its show notes, the Italian brand described the new range of footwear only as “leather sandals”. The notes made no mention of any Indian connection, despite its uncanny resemblance to Kolhapuri sandals, which are wildly popular across India and often worn on special occasions, such as weddings and festivals, along with traditional Indian clothing.

Outraged, a delegation of Kolhapuri sandals manufacturers met Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis on Thursday last week to register their protest.

Showing his support for the delegation is Dhananjay Mahadik, a member of parliament from the state’s Kolhapur district, belonging to the governing Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). Mahadik told reporters that the sandal makers and their supporters are in the process of filing a lawsuit in the Bombay High Court against Prada.

Mahadik also wrote to Fadnavis, drawing “urgent attention to a serious infringement on Maharashtra’s cultural identity and artisan rights”, and called on him to “protect the cultural heritage of Maharashtra”.

In his letter, he noted that the sandals are reportedly priced at approximately $1,400  a pair. By contrast, the authentic Kolhapuri sandals can be found in local markets for about $12.

How has Prada responded?

The Maharashtra Chamber of Commerce, Industry and Agriculture (MACCIA) also wrote to Patrizio Bertelli, the chairperson of Prada’s Board of Directors, about the concerns of sandal makers.

Two days later, the company responded, acknowledging that the design was inspired by the centuries-old Indian sandals. “We deeply recognise the cultural significance of such Indian craftsmanship. Please note that, for now, the entire collection is currently at an early stage of design development, and none of the pieces are confirmed to be produced or commercialised,” Prada said.

The company added that it remains “committed to responsible design practices, fostering cultural engagement, and opening a dialogue for a meaningful exchange with local Indian artisan communities, as we have done in the past in other collections to ensure the rightful recognition of their craft.

“Prada strives to pay homage and recognise the value of such specialised craftspeople that represent an unrivalled standard of excellence and heritage.”

Srihita Vanguri, a fashion entrepreneur from the city of Hyderabad, said that Prada’s actions were “disappointing but not surprising”.

“Luxury brands have a long history of borrowing design elements from traditional crafts without giving due credit – until there’s a backlash,” she told Al Jazeera. “This is cultural appropriation if it stops at inspiration without attribution or benefit-sharing.”

Kolhapuris, which the sandals are also known as, are not just a design, she insisted. They carry the legacy of centuries of craft communities in Maharashtra and the neighbouring state of Karnataka. “Ignoring that context erases real people and livelihoods,” she added.

What about artisans of Kolhapur?

Kolhapur, nestled in southwestern Maharashtra, is a city steeped in royal heritage, spiritual significance and artisanal pride. Beyond its crafts, Kolhapur is also home to several revered Hindu temples and a rich culinary legacy – its food is spicy.

Its famed sandals date back to the 12th century, with more than 20,000 local families still involved in this craft.

The family of Kurade, who was happy about Prada showcasing the sandals, lives on the outskirts of Kolhapur, and has been in this business for more than 100 years.

But he said the business has taken a beating in recent years. “In India, people don’t really understand this craft or want to put money in this any more. If an international brand comes, steals it and showcases it on global platforms, maybe that is good for us,” he told Al Jazeera.

He said that craftsmen like those in his family “still stand where they were years ago”.

“We have the craft and the capacity to move ahead, but the government has not supported us,” the 40-year-old said.

Rather, Kurade said, politics has made things worse.

Since 2014, when Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Hindu majoritarian government came to power in New Delhi, cows have transformed from just symbols of reverence into a flashpoint for religious identity and social conflict. Cow protection, once largely cultural, has become violent, with vigilantes hunting down Dalits and Muslims, the communities that mostly transport cows and buffaloes to trading markets where they are bought for slaughter.

That has disrupted a reliable supply of cow and buffalo hides, which are then tanned with vegetables to make Kolhapuri chappals.

“The original hide we use for quality is restricted in several states because of politics around cows,” said Kurade. “The supply has touched new lows due to politics on cows – and we have been suffering because it has become really expensive for us to keep doing it with the same quality.”

Craftsmen like Kurade believe that if they can make the sandals cheaper and more accessible, “people will wear this because it is what people have loved for centuries”.

Still, Kurade said, while Prada can try and imitate Kolhapuri aesthetics, it cannot replicate the intricate hand-woven design patterns, mastered by the Dalit community in southern Maharashtra and some parts of bordering Karnataka. Dalits are traditionally the most marginalised segment of India’s complex caste hierarchy.

“The authentic design is something which is rare and unique,” he said. “Even shops in Kolhapur city may not have them.”

The real designs, Kurade said, are still made in villages by using centuries-old craft.

But because of the challenge of sourcing quality hides, and faced with an increasingly digital marketplace that artisans are unfamiliar with, Dalit sandal makers need help, he said.

“People who know markets, who can sell it ahead, are the ones cashing in on this. Poor villagers like us cannot run a website; we do not have the marketing knowledge,” he said.

“The government should look into this, to bridge this gap – it is their duty to look into this. The benefits never reached the real makers from the Dalit groups.”

Has it happened before?

Since 2019, after sustained advocacy by artisan groups, India has protected Kolhapuri sandals under its Geographical Indications of Goods Act (1999), preventing commercial use of the term “Kolhapuri Chappal” by unauthorised producers. But this protection is limited within national borders.

Prada has previously faced significant criticism over alleged cultural appropriation, most notably in 2018 when it released the “Pradamalia” collection – keychains and figurines that resembled racist caricatures with exaggerated red lips, drawing immediate comparisons with blackface imagery. After the backlash, Prada pulled the products from stores and issued a public apology.

Prada has also been criticised for store displays that have evoked racial stereotypes, as well as for its use of animal-based luxury materials like ostrich and exotic leathers, which have drawn criticism from environmental and labour rights groups.

But Prada is not alone.

In 2019, Christian Dior drew criticism for incorporating elements inspired by the traditional attire of Mexican horsewomen in its Cruise collection, without formal acknowledgement or collaboration.

In 2015, French designer Isabel Marant came under fire in Mexico for marketing a blouse that closely mirrored the traditional embroidery patterns of the Mixe community in Oaxaca, sparking accusations of cultural appropriation.

Rather than apologise, Vanguri, the fashion entrepreneur, said that the “real respect would be Prada co-creating a capsule collection with Kolhapuri artisan clusters – giving them fair design credit, profit share, and global visibility”.

“Structurally, they could commit to long-term partnerships with craft cooperatives or even fund capacity-building and design innovation for these communities,” she said.

A federal judge is pondering the nature of rap battles and the cutting wordplay in Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us,” the megahit diss track that spurred a defamation lawsuit from his fellow superstar Drake.

Drake sued Universal Music Group — both his and Lamar’s record label — over “Not Like Us,” saying the company published and promoted a song he deems slanderous. Universal says the lyrics are just hyperbole in the tradition of rap beefing, and the label is trying to get the case dismissed.

U.S. District Judge Jeannette Vargas didn’t immediately decide after a lively hearing in New York on Monday, when the raw creativity of hip-hop brushed up against the staid confines of federal court.

“Who is the ordinary listener? Is it someone who’s going to catch all those references?” Vargas wondered aloud, addressing a legal standard that concerns how an average, reasonable person would understand a statement. “There’s so much specialized and nuanced to these lyrics.”

Neither artist attended the hearing.

The case stems from an epic feud between two of hip-hop’s biggest stars over one of 2024 biggest songs — the one that won the record of the year and song of the year Grammys, got the most Apple Music streams worldwide and helped make this winter’s Super Bowl halftime show the most watched ever.

Released as the two artists were trading a flurry of insult tracks, Lamar’s song calls out the Canadian-born Drake by name and impugns his authenticity, branding him “a colonizer” of rap culture who’s “not like us” in Lamar’s home turf of Compton, California, and, more broadly, West Coast rap.

“Not Like Us” also makes insinuations about Drake’s sex life, including “I hear you like ’em young” — implications that he rejects.

Drake’s suit says that the song amounts to “falsely accusing him of being a sex offender, engaging in pedophilic acts” and more. Contending that the track endangered him by fanning notions of vigilante justice, the suit blames “Not Like Us” not only for harming Drake’s image but for attempted break-ins and the shooting of a security guard at his Toronto home. The mansion was depicted in an aerial photo in the song’s cover art.

“This song achieved a cultural ubiquity unlike any other rap song in history,” Drake lawyer Michael Gottlieb said. He argued that Universal had campaigned and contrived to make it “a de facto national anthem” that didn’t just address hip-hop fans who knew the backstory and were accustomed to over-the-top lyrical battling.

The average listener could be “a 13-year-old who’s dancing to the song at a bar mitzvah,” Gottlieb suggested.

“That would be a very interesting bar mitzvah,” the judge opined. (The song has indeed been played at some such celebrations.)

Universal, meanwhile, has emphasized that “Not Like Us” was part of an exchange of barbs between Drake and Lamar.

“Context is key,” label lawyer Rollin Ransom argued Monday, at one point apologizing for having to use profanity while reciting some of the lyrics Drake aimed at Lamar in a track called “Taylor Made Freestyle.”

“What you hear in these rap battles is trash-talking in the extreme, and it is not, and should not be treated as, statements of fact,” the attorney said.

The lawsuit seeks unspecified damages.

Drake also went after iHeartMedia, claiming in a Texas legal petition that the radio giant got illegal payments from Universal to boost airplay for “Not Like Us.” IHeartMedia has denied any wrongdoing. That dispute was resolved in March.

Drake hasn’t sued Lamar himself.