There was this element that always made part of your grandmother and mother’s dressing—an object so little it hardly mattered, and yet it did. The tiny nose pin—often no more than a sparkly dot, sometimes a flower or a star—was the daily rite. It went through day and night, weaving into a different design at birthdays, weddings, for other customs or just for a whim. Across generations and over time, the nose pin has evolved in form and function. In Maharashtra, you’ll find the nath, while in South India, the piece gleams as a subtle stud or twin-ring style and for brides in Rajasthan and Punjab, it often takes on a dramatic flair, with ornate chains and filigree work.
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Today, this ornament stands not just as an heirloom of the past but as a contemporary fashion accessory with a compelling story. Considering that nose rings and pins are now finding versatile flavour—worn with jeans as confidently as with saris by Gen Z, a new brand pays homage to that transition, giving the nose pin fresh meaning. Mookuthi has tapped into renewed fascination for the accessory, giving it a fresh spin. Founder Sarath Selvanathan, shares how the quest took him into the heart of Indian culture, especially South India, giving a voice to “invisible art” and lesser-known motifs and meaning. Excerpts from an interesting chat with him.
ELLE: What inspired you to build a brand around something as specific and symbolic as the nose ornament?
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Sarath Selvanathan (SS): Well, it happened by chance, simply led by curiosity—one thing led to another, and I found myself designing jewellery for people. That was lovely in its own way—you sketch something, you get to bring it to life, and someone looks at it and says, “Oh wow, it’s beautiful.” There is this kind of a validation loop there—satisfying, definitely—laced with excitement, etc. But when I made the first nose ornament, something very different happened. This was sometime in November 2015, when I made the first nose ornament. It wasn’t even a complex design—in fact, it was probably the simplest piece I’d ever worked on. A typical South Indian seven-stone floral pattern—I made it for a dear friend and when she switched to it from her extremely small, single diamond nose pin; that’s when it hit me—her face changed! The way she looked changed. The ornament wasn’t large or elaborate, but it had presence. And something about that moment—it just stayed with me. At the time, I didn’t think of it as a eureka moment. I didn’t even know what I was witnessing, exactly, but it made me feel something I hadn’t felt before through the other jewellery — like I had stumbled onto a different kind of emotion. Quiet yet powerful. That feeling, I didn’t know then, became the seed. The smallest ornament I’d ever made was the only one that truly changed the way someone looked — and maybe, over time, how they felt about themselves. That stayed with me.
It didn’t start with a plan or strategy. It started with a sensation I couldn’t ignore — that something this small could hold such weight. I think repeating that emotion — recreating that moment — slowly became an obsession. And that’s how Mookuthi began.
ELLE: How do the Mookuthi nose ornaments symbolise culture and narrate different tales from around the country?
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SS: Mookuthi started as a college project. In early 2017 I did a program that focussed on building lifestyle businesses and when I had to pitch a project — I pitched Mookuthi, a brand that only makes nose ornaments. At that time, I did not think much about the genesis or design language of Mookuthi. Until I was about 24, I hadn’t travelled much beyond South India. And when I did venture north, I realised how underrepresented the South was — I would often find myself in conversations with people who were curious about the south, where I’d be painting them a picture. Some of them, I went on to host them too, in the South. It’s wonderful to show where you come from; and in turn, I’d also enjoy seeing it through another’s perspective. I loved it! So, when I had to make my first few collections, I subconsciously took to the South. It was just natural.
Of the three debut collections, the first took cues from the region’s architectural details — its lines, its balance. The second was based on Athangudi tiles — I’m from Chettinad, and Athangudi is my neighbouring village. And the third collection was simply a curated homage to iconic South Indian nose ornament patterns. At the time, I wouldn’t even call it “design” — it felt more like collecting, collaborating, and bringing together what already existed in memory. This formed an obsessive loop — of returning to what feels known and deeply lived — this invariably became the foundation for Mookuthi in a way. And now, I find myself exploring my roots with more curiosity – this, now, consciously shapes Mookuthi’s relationship with culture, through subtle reflections.
ELLE: Balancing modern design with deeply-rooted Indian cultural sensibilities, what are the techniques used in the making?
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SS: I really wish there was a technique — a defined process or formula, to make a nose ornament at Mookuthi. It would make things easier to put together and consistent. And maybe someday we’ll arrive at that. But right now, it’s more instinctive. It’s a personal lens, which constantly looks for both the old and the new in the same place. On one hand, I’ve been rooted to the South. The way I see things, the way I dress, the choices I make, the music I listen to — they are shaped by a sensibility I’ve grown up with. Perhaps one could call it cultural – or simply personal? Sometimes it comes from family, sometimes from the broader community. Together, they do shape the way you respond to the world. On the other hand, education, travel, friendships, technology or just everyday worldly modern influences one cannot escape today, have brought in their own new perspectives. Exposure to modern design — whether through gadgets, architecture, fashion, or just how we live today —also leaves a mark.And somewhere, I think there’s a thread that quietly connects all of it, between what I knew to what I’m getting to know. That balance — between the old and the new, the rooted and the evolving — is something we hold close at Mookuthi. It’s the lens through which we decide whether something is a Mookuthi or not. And maybe that’s what makes it a Mookuthi.
There’s something intimate about the nose ornament. It’s not a keepsake tucked away in a safe, reserved for special occasions only — it becomes part of the wearer’s own self. I’ve even met sons who inherited their mother’s nose ornament and now wear it as a single earring — as remembrance, as love, as continuation.
ELLE: The nose pin is something that carries nostalgia, identity, and feeling — it can be considered an heirloom in that sense. Would you agree?
SS: Absolutely. I’ve always been fascinated by how it becomes part of the wearer. I can only speak from all what I’ve witnessed, quietly, at Mookuthi, for I don’t wear a nose ornament myself. The nose ornament carries something far beyond adornment. Especially when inherited, it becomes a vessel of memory. There’s a particular sparkle in the way someone talks about a nose ornament passed down from their grandmother or mother. It’s not just a piece of jewellery — it’s like borrowing that person’s identity, carrying them with you. Wearing their strength, their softness, their story — quite literally, on your face.
Of course, pins and earrings can be passed down too. But there’s something intimate about the nose ornament. It’s not a keepsake tucked away in a safe, reserved for special occasions only — it becomes part of the wearer’s own self. I’ve even met sons who inherited their mother’s nose ornament and now wear it as a single earring — as remembrance, as love, as continuation. So yes, it carries nostalgia, identity, emotion. But sometimes, one person’s ornament becomes another person’s anchor.
I met Harminder — a master Meenakari artisan from a family that’s been in the craft for generations in Jaipur. When I showed them the tile-inspired sketches and explained that I wanted these made as nose ornaments, they were intrigued. Especially by the fact that the Meenakari would be on the front of the piece — not hidden at the back, as is traditionally done in jewellery. “It’s going to be seen?” Harminder asked. And something about that — about an invisible art finally being visible— struck a chord.
ELLE: Can you share a story behind one piece that particularly moved you or your team?
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SS: To each person at Mookuthi, it might be a different piece. But for me, personally, it goes back to 2017 — when I was in the thick of exploring what Mookuthi, the college project, could be. I was still prototyping designs, curating, speaking with artisans, speaking with women with nose piercings and trying to understand how to build a brand around something so specific. I had very little exposure at that time and honestly, it was quite a challenge. Not many artisans wanted to work on something so small. The nose ornament wasn’t a lucrative canvas — it demanded time, effort, precision, and in return, the payouts were minimal. Even designers I approached were reluctant to work on just nose ornaments, for they feared it would skew their portfolio and hurt their chances elsewhere. But somewhere in that mess of uncertainty, I had this idea of creating a series inspired by Athangudi tiles — simple, tile-like motifs within a one-square-centimetre frame. I didn’t know where to begin, but I knew it needed colour and detail. That led me to Meenakari. And that meant going to Jaipur. I didn’t know the language nor the technique. I gathered some basic Google knowledge, some sketches and some hope and left for Jaipur.
Through a friend who translated for me, I met Harminder — a master Meenakari artisan from a family that’s been in the craft for generations. His father, nearly 80 at the time, still sat at the bench. There was so much pride in that room —in the work, the lineage, the storytelling through enamel. When I showed them the tile-inspired sketches and explained that I wanted these made as nose ornaments, they were intrigued. Especially by the fact that the Meenakari would be on the front of the piece — not hidden at the back, as is traditionally done in jewellery. “It’s going to be seen?” Harminder asked. And something about that — about an invisible art finally being visible— struck a chord.
When the first pieces were ready, he called me back to Jaipur. And I remember holding it in my hand for the first time — and just… feeling something. I don’t know if I cried. That piece — that whole journey — quietly set the tone for Mookuthi. We put that piece up for sale when we launched in February 2018. It sat on the shelf on the 16th and 17th. And I secretly hoped no one would buy it. It holds everything for me — the chaos and the clarity, with which I built Mookuthi. It’s not just an object. It’s memory, effort, and meaning — all folded into that one square centimetre.
ELLE: You collaborate with artisans from across India — how do you find them, and what have their interesting inputs been for each nose ring?
SS: Finding an artisan is an exploration in itself. Our country is blessed with diverse crafts and craftspeople. As for finding them, while they aren’t easily accessible through phone or mail, one can always find them in specific regions in the country – you’d have to go there of course. You read up, gather enough, go in person and try building a relationship with the artisan.
As for their inputs, given their rich experience and relationships, they’d suggest directions you had not even considered. It’s always enriching exploring the craft with the artisan, for you are directly leaning into their tich experience. The more they trust you, the more they open up and the more you learn. It’s a slow process but if you enjoy learning, they enjoy sharing. Their inputs to each nose ornament is often felt than seen.
ELLE: In particular, the nose pins draw a lot from South India — from tiles to designs and other motifs. Please tell us more.
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SS: It’s really just what I’m most familiar with. I didn’t consciously set out to focus on South India, or to build a body of work around it. In fact, in the beginning, I thought Mookuthi would represent all of India. That was the vague idea — to explore different regional languages of ornamentation. But over time, as I kept designing and collecting, I began to notice a pattern. When I look back now — at the 10 collections we’ve put out over the last six and a half years, and the 120 nose ornaments available today — I see something clearer. They’re all reflections of my childhood. That’s what’s been shaping the work all along.
Everything you see displayed at the store in Chennai — every piece on the table — is in some way drawn from a memory. A rhythm. A pattern I’ve lived with. And so, yes, the pieces today mostly represent South India. But they do so not as a strategy, or a conscious cultural statement — they do so simply because that’s where I’m from.
I’m constantly observing noses around me. At a bar, at the salon, on a flight, or while picking cake — I notice noses, their shapes and begin visualising forms that would be interesting on her, on her nose.
ELLE: Is there a move to make the nose ornaments find appeal with Gen Z?
SS: To be honest, I haven’t thought about designing for Gen Z specifically. That’s never been the intent. We just put our heads down and try to make things that feel meaningful, well-crafted, beautiful, and ergonomic. That’s about it as far as the design process is concerned. That said, thinking about the Gen Z —they are deeply self- aware and do not shy away from being themselves or expressing themselves. My body of work, when I look back, is quite bold in the category of nose ornaments and I guess it would invariably resonate with anyone who has learnt to be unapologetically themselves.
Over time, I’m tuned into seeing large influences or everyday elements around me as a nose ornament —whether it’s a motif, a gemstone, a restaurant’s logo, the handle of an old armchair, a knob on a radio, or broadly nature itself. On the other hand, I’m constantly observing noses around me. At a bar, at the salon, on a flight, or while picking cake — I notice noses, their shapes and begin visualising forms that would be interesting on her, on her nose. I guess I’m always caught between these two ends: the nose and everyday inspiration.
ELLE: What’s next for Mookuthi? Are you planning to expand into other categories or continue deepening your exploration of the nose ring?
SS: For now, the nose has me hooked – I’m not looking to expand to other categories. There’s still so much more to explore within the nose ornament. That’s what keeps Mookuthi exciting for me — the depth of possibility inside this tiny, specific form. There are different styles, techniques, materials, and storytelling approaches to explore. And I’m really enjoying that journey — the process of piecing emotion and meaning into something that eventually sits quietly on the face. Seeing all that obsession come together at the tip of a nose…it hits differently. It’s seven years now and I still feel we are just getting started.
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