I won’t lie, I’ve always wanted to make clothes.
I’ve definitely spent more than 10,000 hours (thank you, Malcolm Gladwell) gleaning through different clothes on magazines, tv, people – even in my dreams. I still remember that NIFT interview in an enormous Kolkata room, where one had to almost catwalk to sit before a panel, which asked why I was wearing what I was wearing. “Because it’s imperfectly perfect,” I replied sheepishly, my all-white salwar kameez under a long white jacket, courtesy my tailor (and designed by me apparently), on display in its full shrunken and pink-tinted glory (from being washed with a red ghaat chola dupatta I wore with it the first time). I swear I felt like a million bucks in it though, even if only to myself!
For what it's worth, I did get a place at NIFT after all, though my dad put his foot down to me “becoming a tailor” who wouldn’t be able to fend for herself in the long run. In retrospect I now understand it came from love - I didn’t come from a family who’d be able to invest and make it a business. He asked me, “Who would buy from you, and why?” Good thing this wasn’t a pageant question, because I wasn’t winning any crowns that day.
Looking back though, I’m grateful for this longer drawn, unconventional journey that led me to fashion. I didn’t formally study clothes or jewellery – I just fell in love with them, and that’s the greatest study there is. I sponged everything I could from my surroundings – from my family (Ma, Nanima, Chachi, Mami, etc), from the streets, from nature, from people of all walks… quite literally, everything. One of my fashion icons growing up, in fact, was a neighbour – the youngest of three sisters, much older than I was. She used to pay for her tailor to go watch movies and imitate the looks of all the top heroines! Pooja Bhatt was a favourite. I wanted to grow up quicker (lol), get my own designs made by my own tailor, and be the coolest cat, just like her.
This did happen, and I made a million mistakes. Having people come up to you at a small town school function and ask why you’re wearing a night suit (and not a chic pink gingham pantsuit, excuse me, thank you) is not something you forget easily, but I was just as huge a rebel then as I am now, so I let it all slide and had a good old time! Fun fact: no one knew that the fabric was actually sourced from an upholstery store that my mother vehemently disapproved of. Anyway, about 20 years later, that look came to be a rage, and the 16 year old in me was so proud, just as I am now for having teamed up with tailors throughout my life, in all the little towns and cities Babuji was posted in. What I do today is a sum total of the mistakes I made, and everything I learnt along the way by being my own guinea pig.
A few years ago, I sat down with Ben (aka my husband, for the newbies here), and expressed my desire to make clothes, to which he asked how much investment I’d need. I had no clue and no money, but I also didn’t know as much about clothes then as I do today. All the learning I have now, I gathered from years of working in fashion retail, styling, and of course, crystallising my personal style along the way – the most laborious task of them all.
It was as a 22-year old nightmare, that my personal style truly emerged though, living away from family and breaking away from everything that stood for conventions – obviously, the things women wore came first. My salwar kameez sets and sarees went out the window and my wardrobe was anything I couldn’t wear in small town India which was everything that stood for freedom, in my mind. It still does, for a lot of young Indian women who migrate from small towns to bigger cities, chasing bigger dreams, and while I find that refreshing, empowering, and sweet, I also know now, that it all does come full circle, ladies! The salwar kameez is now a staple in my wardrobe, as you know.
During “this festive season” (as they put it), when every brand out there is pining for you to shop for the “tyohar”, the urge to spend on fashion this time of the year kind of becomes the “dream”... and I’m already sick of it. Huge props to all the people running these brands for never lacking in creativity, but the idea of occasion wear, despite all those beautiful colours and textures, feels like I’m being forced to do things a certain way at a certain time, and you and I both know I will not told be told what to do 🥴 It’s also probably deep rooted in the fact that I’m more the morning-after type of person – the morning after the tyohar, the morning after the wedding, or the morning after any big day when the feeling of celebration has settled and memories made. What about that day? And the day after that… For me, everyday dressing will always trump occasion wear! So while I love watching guests in their beautiful gowns, I often find myself more drawn to the grandmother in her plain jamdani and heirloom jewels, and I respect the kid who refuses to wear anything ‘pokey’. Maybe deep down inside, I am that kid 😂 All I want is just to be comfortable!
So why did I choose to make kurtas before making anything else?
Well, when I close my eyes and try picking one garment that transcends nationality and occasion, while being comfortable enough to spend my entire life in, it would be a white kurta. I can sleep in it, spend the day working in it, travel wearing it, and then go to the most glamorous party in it (with added baubles, of course). I’ve grown up wearing kurtas, bought hundreds of metres of fabric for them, and had many versions made by many different tailors – some good, some bad, some ghastly, some fab – but I now know exactly how I like my kurtas! Pristine white, sharply cut, and most often with the understated elegance of chikankari thrown in.
This quest for the perfect cuts led me to Nandini (Agarwal) — well, she found me, to be precise — on Instagram, as we do today. We exchanged numbers and I ordered a few duppattas from her that I absolutely adored. We talked endlessly about chikankari, many pictures sent back and forth about how the embroideries could be manifested. In one of these chats, I once half-jokingly told Nandini that I wanted to have the best chikankari wardrobe in the country, and she said, “I’ll make sure you do”. I knew then that I had not just found a work collaborator/partner, but a friend too. Thank you Nandini. The amazing work she's been doing for years now along with her mother, and with and for the women in Lucknow, stems from pure love for the craft, and the women they support. Eternally grateful to the universe for putting me in touch with her and her unparalleled understanding of the craft. Here’s hoping that we continue dropping our collabs of the coolest chikankari garments every season 🤞
It goes without saying, however, jewellery is and will always remain, my first love. I still think of clothes as a canvas for jewellery and always will, but #HandMadeInIndia getting its due in all its forms, has always been the goal. I want to explore them as much as I can and bring them back in ways I would flaunt them today, in ways where people on the streets of London stop and ask about them, and I’d then proudly go on to explain how they’re a shining example of what my country is capable of. I want to wear a sharara to a nightclub and velvet mojaris to a black tie dinner, and I want to wear them often. I want #HandMadeInIndia to be my way of life.
After having sort of fallen out of love with fashion all this while, I’m back in the throes of passion again! (I can hear you sigh, Ben) And I want the same for you. Not fall in love with that one outfit on that one occasion every year, but every single day. I wish for you to seamlessly blend your love for Indian crafts, with your personality and your imagination, and just go play! Give your heels a chance once in a while if they make you feel like a million bucks – even if they could be slightly uncomfortable for a bit, balance it out with a chikankari kurta 😉
I guess what I’m trying to say is, be your own heroine ♥️
