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There was a time when fashion collaborations were watershed moments in themselves. Think Elsa Schiaparelli with Salvador Dalí in the ’30s, Emilio Pucci with Ermenegildo Zegna in the ’60s, Karl Lagerfeld joining hands with H&M in 2004, or closer to home, Sabyasachi and H&M in 2021.
But in 2026, it’s no longer a milestone; it’s the norm. Luxury brands are teaming up with streetwear labels, designers with artists, fashion houses with cafés. Which is why the question is no longer who is collaborating with whom, but what these collaborations actually mean.
A 2024 article by The Business of Fashion put it well. The best collaborations, it argued, are ones that feel authentic — where the coming together of two brands feels either “glaringly obvious or glaringly unobvious.”
On that note, the Rajesh Pratap Singh x Nicobar collaboration has a lot to say.
“I mean for me, it’s glaringly obvious,” says Raul Rai, Nicobar’s co-founder, almost instantly. He speaks to Esquire India over a video call, just days after the collection hit the stores and the brand celebrated a decade in the business.
Rai is ridiculously candid. When asked how the collection is performing, he doesn’t slip into media-trained talking points about ‘synergy’ and ‘shared visions’. Instead, he shares his screen and scrolls through his WhatsApp chat with Rajesh Pratap Singh.
The texts read like two old friends talking — a random screenshot here, a passing observation there — followed by something unexpectedly heartwarming. “Our relationship and trust is more important than a collection,” Rai wrote to the couturier in one such message, offhandedly summing up their dynamic.
“I’ve known Raul for many years now,” Singh says. “There was never any rush to collaborate, but over time, it became clear that we were both interested in a similar idea of modern India, something quiet, functional and rooted.”
While Nicobar may still be a relatively young brand, the Rajesh Pratap Singh label will complete 30 years in 2027. So when Singh walked into a Nicobar store last year and messaged Rai to say that his daughter thought it was fabulous, it wasn’t just another passing compliment.
“Well, if it’s nice and meets your standards, let’s collaborate,” Rai replied casually. And that conversation turned into the collection one can shop today.
He had long admired Singh’s work, and after moving back to India in 2005, he bought his first Rajesh Pratap Singh Bandhgala — and noticed that people looked at him differently. The feeling stayed with him, and made him dream of a future where every stylish Indian man owned one too.
So it’s hardly surprising that the Tahr Bandhgala has emerged as one of the collection’s best-selling pieces.
But beyond driving up sales and grabbing headlines, what’s the mark of a truly successful collaboration?
“If it changes the way you think a little,” Singh explains. Unlike most others these days, he believes it should bring two worlds together without forcing a trend or a logo. “It brings in a fresh audience and a different energy. But more importantly, it allows you to revisit your own language through another perspective.”
For Rai, the foundation lies in shared values, trust and mutual respect. He explains that Nicobar Men used to be narrowly defined, especially compared to their women’s line. “And I know you can’t say this,” he laughs, “but Indian men need more style help than women.”
That said, Singh adds that Indian menswear is finally changing. “Men are becoming more comfortable with softness, ease and individuality,” he says. “Earlier, masculinity was expressed through rigidity. Today, confidence comes more from comfort and authenticity.”
That gap is now most visible in ethnicwear, which for many men remains reserved for formal occasions. Rai, for one, loves the ease of walking into an event wearing white jodhpurs, a relaxed kurta, and a pair of juttis.
And that balance — modern without feeling westernized — is exactly where this collection steps in.
“Nicobar never has tried too hard to be ‘Indian’,” Singh says, admitting that’s what he loves about the brand. It has ease, restraint and a lived-in quality that feels honest. “They understand that luxury today is often about simplicity and clarity.”
It’s also what they have in common with Singh’s own label, which is why the collaboration came with complete creative freedom. In terms of design, Rai only had a few practical inputs — adding more colour, for instance, since it tends to sell well.
“He just loves research. And even if he doesn’t want to [take an input of mine], that’s okay,” Rai says with a laugh. “But Pratap is such a shy guy. If he doesn’t like an idea, he won’t say it directly.” So Rai learned to read between the lines — a skill, he jokes, sharpened by working in an organisation that is “70 per cent women.”
At the heart of it was trust. “There was one visual direction we were exploring where I could sense he wasn’t fully happy,” Rai recalls. Singh was willing to compromise, but Rai refused to let him.
“Raul did give me a very free hand creatively,” Singh accepts. “Of course, there were discussions, as there are in any collaboration. But we were never trying to overpower each other’s language.” In his words, it felt “unusually aligned.”
They eventually found a balance where structure didn’t feel stiff and ease didn’t feel careless. As Singh puts it, “Good design usually sits somewhere in between.” He points to the denim pieces in the collection that especially reflect this mindset. “Getting the weight, construction, and finish right took time.”
But let’s be honest, isn’t compromise inevitable in any collaboration?
“You’re asking such philosophical questions,” Rai says, smiling. He recalls advice from a business school professor: if you approach something too puristically, you may never achieve everything you want. Compromise can be necessary — the key in is knowing what is non-negotiable.
Once their non-negotiables were in place, everything came together rather quickly. Rai explained to Singh that while his shirts sit in the ₹5,000 to ₹6,000 range, Singh’s are closer to ₹20,000 — and the challenge lay in finding a middle ground.
“His price point excludes a large section. I told Rajesh that the world deserves more of him. He doesn’t talk to people, but has so much to say, so I said, ‘Let me say it for you’.”
That thinking, of bringing Rajesh Pratap Singh to the world, shaped the campaign, which featured men and women across age groups. Nicobar’s strength, Rai adds, lies in its distribution and its “north star” — a purpose-driven approach that allows it to amplify interesting, India-forward voices.
He continues to scroll through their shared WhatsApp chat and read out the moments from the stores that bring the collaboration to life. A mother and son discovering it and buying clothes worth ₹97,000. A first-time visitor from Boston drawn to the detailing. A guest buying pieces as a gift for a Russian friend. “I keep sending these stories to him,” Rai says.
He adds that Singh was struck by how unusual it was — that in three decades of retail, he had never seen both teams so actively sharing customer feedback, creating a continuous loop of learning and improvement.
In the end, thanks to all the feedback they’ve received, the collaboration lands on a simple idea: that modern menswear no longer needs to choose between tradition and modernity, or between structure and ease. More importantly, it also doesn’t have to make a statement.
“Sometimes, quieter brands take more time to be understood, but they also build deeper relationships with people,” says Singh.
Rai adds that while he’s often heard the advice that one shouldn’t work with friends, some of his closest friendships have, in fact, been shaped through Nicobar — and this collaboration is no exception.
That’s what, ultimately, separates a good collaboration from a great one: it can’t be achieved through business sense alone, but through trust — between friends, between disciplines, and between two distinct design languages slowly learning to speak as one.