
A small story to start
The first time I walked into New Market in Dhaka, a shopkeeper slid open a glass case and the whole counter blinked like a school of fish — bangles, watch faces, brooches, cheap and cheerful. I wrote a reminder in my notes — 33BD — a little code to remember “stall 33, Bangladesh.” (Side note: the same tag sometimes pops up in online-casino chatter — not a secret club, just my breadcrumb.) Shopping here isn’t a checklist; it’s a conversation. People look up, offer tea, ask where you’re from, and then quietly size up whether you want a quick souvenir or something you’ll remember in five years.
By the way, if you expect “bargain chaos,” you’ll get it — but there’s also a gentler rhythm: tiny bookstores smelling of dust and sunlight, sari shops where time slows, tea counters where the air is sweet with jaggery. Bangladesh has a range.
The lay of the land: where to go
Bazaars and street markets. This is the living room of a Bangladeshi shopping mall. Dhaka’s New Market, Chawk Bazaar during Ramadan nights, and the neighborhood haats (weekly markets) feel like a pulse — fabric rolls stacked like rainbows, spice mounds, knock-off sneakers that are oddly convincing. Prices are flexible, smiles are part of the math.
Boutiques and cooperatives. If you want to craft with guardrails, try artisan collectives and design houses that work directly with makers. You’ll find hand-loomed jamdani, nakshi kantha (embroidered textiles), brass homeware, and jewelry with real craft. The vibe is curated, the prices fair rather than “cheap.”
Malls and modern retail. Air-conditioning, fixed prices, reliable returns — this is where you go for standardized clothing sizes, electronics, and a quick food-court samosa that somehow hits the spot.
Side-street specialists. Some of the best finds hide in alleys: a lens repair shop that also sells vintage film cameras; a tailor who does perfect collars; a woman who strings glass-bead necklaces while her son does homework beside her. If a shop looks like it shouldn’t still exist — step in.
What to buy (and how to tell the good stuff)
Textiles. Jamdani is the headline act: feather-light muslin woven with motifs that look like frost on glass. If it feels airy yet crisp, if the motifs are sharp rather than fuzzy, you’re on the right track. For daily wear, consider cotton kurtas, linen blends, and hand-block prints.
Jewelry. Handmade brass, silver (often oxidized to show engraving), and terracotta pieces that feel like little sculptures. Flip earrings over: clean backs and smooth edges mean care. Clasps should feel solid, not wiry.
Leather. Locally made belts, wallets, and minimal shoes can be a great value. Smell the leather (yes, really). Good leather smells warm and slightly sweet, not like a chemical spill.
Home & table. Brass bowls, woven jute rugs, and ceramic cups with tiny imperfections that make them all the more lovable. Ask if the finish is food-safe and lead-free when it’s tableware.
Books. English-language fiction and translations are surprisingly abundant. Second-hand shops can be treasure chests; look for local history, cookbooks, and slim poetry volumes with flower-pressed bookmarks inside (I’m not kidding — it happens).
Tea & sweets. Seven-layer tea is an experience, but for packing, choose loose-leaf from Sylhet and boxes of roshogolla or mishti doi from reputable sweet shops (ask locals for the brand they bring to relatives).
How to bargain without being weird
Let’s keep this simple:
- Ask the price. Don’t gasp. (Even if you want to.)
- Counter politely. Offer 60–70% for bazaars; in boutiques, prices are usually fixed — don’t haggle.
- Use a reason. “I’m taking two,” “student budget,” or “I saw similar for X around the corner” — light, not pushy.
- Know your walk-away. If you can’t leave it, the price will own you.
- Remember the tea. If someone serves you tea and talks craft for ten minutes, don’t squabble over coins.
Bargaining here is more theater than combat. Keep it friendly; most shopkeepers have better memories than your Maps app. You’ll want to come back.
A mini-guide to clothes and tailoring
Ready-made sizes vary, but tailors are magicians. Bring a photo or sketch. For shirts: specify collar height, cuff style, and length (hips vs. mid-hip). For kurtas: ask about side slits and pockets. Turnaround time can be 24–72 hours, but it may be faster during festival rush, if you’re lucky. Always try on when collecting; tiny tweaks matter.
Payment, safety, and carrying things home
Cash is king in bazaars; cards work in malls and bigger boutiques. Some shops take mobile payment; others will look confused but charming. Keep small bills for rickshaws and snacks—split cash across pockets (common sense, big payoff). Bring a tote or buy a local jute bag — sturdy and photogenic.
Receipts: For anything pricier (leather, electronics, jewelry), ask for a simple receipt with the shop’s name, date, and phone number. It’s also a souvenir of sorts.
Shipping: Many shops will pack sturdily. For ceramics, ask for double wrapping and a “fragile” label that looks more hopeful than official — but it helps.
Markets by mood
- Festive nights (Ramadan/Eid): streets glow, late-night shopping turns into an open-air party — neon bangles, sherwani fittings, families everywhere.
- Monsoon afternoons: plan for malls and bookstores; carry an extra bag for damp umbrellas and spontaneous tea breaks.
- Cooler months: perfect for bazaar wandering; fabrics feel crisper, tempers kinder.
Etiquette & small kindnesses
- Try before you buy — but handle textiles with clean hands. (Vendor’s notice.)
- Ask before photos. Many will smile yes; a few will prefer no—respect either answer.
- Learn two words: dhonnobad (thank you) and apni kemon asen? How are you? Your accent will win you discounts you did not deserve.
The ethics bit (kept human)
If a shop talks about who made the product, how it was dyed, or where the cotton came from, you’re probably supporting something decent. If they dodge simple questions, move on. Paying a little more to someone who can tell you a maker’s story is like tipping the future — it keeps the good stuff alive.
City snapshots (quick hop list)
- Dhaka — New Market & Nilkhet: textbooks, trinkets, fabrics, chaos with a smile.
- Dhaka — Dhanmondi/Banani boutiques: Designers take on tradition; suitable for gifts.
- Chittagong (Chattogram): a port-city with grit; great tea and brassware to be found if you wander.
- Sylhet: tea country; ask for local leaf and handloom shawls.
- Rajshahi: mango season is a mood; find silk, slow streets, and long sunsets.
(You don’t have to cover it all. Pick a neighborhood and let it teach you.)
A slight detour: souvenirs with soul
If you want something that will evoke the essence of Bangladesh every time you touch it, choose one of these: a jamdani scarf that sparks a family argument (in a good way), or a set of clay cups that make coffee taste rounder. This hand-engraved silver ring knows your daily routine better than your calendar app. Objects remember.
Practical checklist (tear‑off in your head)
- Water, small bills, a tote bag, and patience.
- Screenshot a map and shop names; cell data can be misleading.
- Learn one polite phrase; offer a smile before an offer.
- Ask for care instructions (how to wash, how to polish, how not to ruin).
- If you love it, buy it. You won’t find the same thing later at “stall 33.” (Ask me how I know.)
Closing the loop
Remember 33BD from the start? I did find “stall 33” again — not because of the note, but because the seller waved when he saw me drifting past on day two. “Back for the blue scarf?” he said, teasing. I bought the scarf, a jute bag I didn’t need, and a jar of tea that made my backpack smell like a garden. That’s the thing about shops in Bangladesh: you come for a thing; you leave with a story.
If you go, go easy. Let yourself be curious, a little lost, a little charmed. Pay fairly. Ask names. And when you pack your suitcase, tuck in one small thing you’ll use every week — a cup, a ring, a scarf — so the trip keeps happening long after you’ve landed. (And yes, keep your own breadcrumb, whether it’s 33BD or something only you will understand.)