“The wedding industry profits from insecurity.”
It is a striking thing for a designer to say about the very industry he works in, but Ayush Kejriwal has always brought a distinctly personal point of view to his work. Perhaps that is precisely why the wedding fashion industry could use more designers like him.
For Kejriwal, Indian fashion does not need to be Westernised to be modern, handloom does not need to be reinvented to be relevant, and a bride certainly does not need to be transformed beyond recognition to look like a bride. His ideas draw from Indian textiles, colour, craft and tradition, but his approach to them is anything but deferential. He questions the rules around who gets to wear what, challenges the obsession with perfection and pushes back against the constant demand to make traditional fashion look “new” simply for the sake of it.
That point of view comes through with unusual clarity in this conversation. From growing up in Kolkata watching his mother and grandmother wear sarees to building an independent design language in Glasgow, Kejriwal speaks about why he refuses to dilute the qualities that once made his work “too colourful”, “too theatrical” or “too eccentric”. He talks about meaningful experimentation, the value of going deeper into India’s textile traditions, and the kind of bride he believes should be at the centre of her own wedding.
And that bride, in his words, is not asking for permission. She is not looking to become an imitation of a celebrity bride, nor does she need to be corrected before she can be celebrated. As Kejriwal puts it, “The convention I would happily destroy is the belief that a bride must be corrected before she can be celebrated.”
This is Ayush Kejriwal at his most candid and unapologetic, on Indian brides, the textiles he continues to champion, the rules he chooses to question and the wedding industry he believes could benefit from a rethink.
Manifest (M): You grew up in Kolkata and now live and work out of the UK. What parts of that upbringing still show up in your work today, and how has living away from India changed the way you see Indian fashion?
Ayush Kejriwal (AK): Kolkata did not simply influence my aesthetic. It formed my character. I grew up watching my mother and grandmother wear sarees. They were not styled by professionals or dressing for an audience. They wore them as an entirely natural extension of themselves. That taught me something important: clothes become powerful when the person wearing them is still visible.
Kolkata also gave me my love of colour, old-world beauty, visual abundance and the ability to find inspiration in ordinary life. There is a bit of Kolkata in everything I make.
Glasgow gave me the space to turn that instinct into an independent voice. Living away from India made me look back with greater clarity. It made me appreciate how extraordinary our textiles are, but it also allowed me to question the social rules that have been built around them.
I do not believe Indian fashion needs to become Western to be modern. It needs confidence in its own identity. Distance has made me less interested in seeking approval from the fashion establishment and more determined to present India on my own terms.
M: Your work has never really followed the conventional rules of Indian fashion. When did you realise that the things that make you different could actually become your strongest design language?
AK: I realised it when I stopped trying to correct myself. I have never been formally trained in fashion. I did not begin with investors, a large team or an industry blueprint. I began with £300, an instinct and a need to create. Because I did not know the accepted formula, I was free to make my own. My work was often considered too colourful, too theatrical, too traditional, too eccentric or too difficult to categorise. Those were precisely the qualities that made it recognisable.
I did not need to dilute them. I needed to own them. Being different is not a design strategy for me. It is the result of refusing to pretend to be someone I am not. I do not design to satisfy an algorithm, manufacture a trend or win the approval of a fashion circle. I make what I believe in.
My brand is an extension of me. If that makes it difficult to fit into a conventional box, the box is not my problem.
M: You work with everything from Banarasi and Kanjeevaram to Chanderi, Kalamkari, Patola and more. What keeps you curious about India’s textile traditions, and is there still a weave or craft you’re itching to explore?
AK: India’s textile traditions are not one story. They are thousands of stories, created across generations by people with knowledge that cannot be learnt from a trend report.
A textile is never just a surface. Its fibre, construction, motifs, colours, regional history and the hands that created it are all part of its identity. That is what keeps me curious.
I am not interested in collecting crafts so I can announce that I have worked with all of them. That approach turns heritage into a checklist.
I would rather go deeper. Hand-painted Kalamkari continues to hold my attention because the hand of the artist is so present. It is painting, mythology, storytelling and textile in one form. No two pieces can ever carry precisely the same energy.
There are many other traditions I would like to understand, but I will explore them only when I can give them the time and respect they deserve. I do not want to borrow the most recognisable motif from a craft, call it a collection and move on.
M: Colour is such a big part of your world, and you often put combinations together that shouldn’t technically work but somehow do. How do you know when a colour clash has crossed the line from chaotic to beautiful?
AK: I reject the idea that certain colours should not be worn together. Who decided that, and why are we still listening to them?
Colour is instinctive for me. Inspiration can come from the most ordinary place. I once spoke about noticing green and beige while cooking lady’s fingers with chickpeas. That is how my mind works. I do not sit with an approved colour chart and ask for permission.
I am not always looking for harmony in the conventional sense. Sometimes a little visual discomfort is exactly what gives an image its energy. Beautiful does not have to mean safe, polite or immediately agreeable.
M: You’ve spent years taking familiar Indian textiles and making them feel unexpected. But where do you draw the line between meaningful experimentation and change for the sake of attention?
AK: I need to make an important distinction here. I break rules that police people. I do not break the identity of a textile merely to prove that I can.
I reject rules that tell women they are too dark for a colour, too large for a print, too old for a particular style or too unconventional to look beautiful. I reject the idea that a bride must be fair, thin, young and transformed beyond recognition. Those rules deserve to disappear.
But I do not believe a saree needs to be draped backwards, belted, cut up, worn with trousers or paired with something deliberately odd simply to make it modern. Different does not automatically mean intelligent. Very often, it is just styling created for attention.
A traditional saree worn with a beautiful blouse, a bindi, flowers and Indian jewellery can be far more powerful than an unnecessarily complicated reinvention.
The point is not to make a saree look unlike a saree. The point is to allow the textile and the woman wearing it to speak. Experimentation is valid when it has a reason. When the intervention has no thought behind it, the styling becomes the story and the textile becomes a prop. That does not interest me.
M: Who is an Ayush Kejriwal bride? If you had to describe her without mentioning her clothes, what would she be like?
AK: She is not asking for permission.
She knows what she likes and has the courage to choose it. She may be quiet or outspoken, traditional or rebellious. I do not want to reduce her to another carefully manufactured personality type.
What matters is that she is comfortable in her own skin. She is not trying to look fairer, thinner, younger or more acceptable. She does not want to become an imitation of a celebrity bride.
She understands that confidence is more powerful than perfection. She can value family, heritage and ritual without allowing them to erase her individuality.
Most importantly, she wants to be present at her own wedding. She is not dressing for strangers on social media or for people who will criticise her regardless of what she wears. An Ayush Kejriwal bride looks like herself. That should not be a radical idea, but within the wedding industry, it still is.
M: What do you think today’s Indian bride is getting right when it comes to fashion, and what is one bridal convention you would happily see disappear?
AK: The Indian bride is becoming more decisive. She is increasingly willing to trust her instincts, mix inherited pieces with new ones and choose textiles that have meaning beyond one day.
I am also pleased to see brides return to traditional sarees without feeling that they need to disguise them as something more fashionable. A handwoven saree, a considered blouse, flowers, a strong bindi and beautiful jewellery do not need a modernising trick. They already possess power.
The convention I would happily destroy is the belief that a bride must be corrected before she can be celebrated.
She does not need lighter skin, a different body, false hair, layers of makeup and an outfit so heavy that she can barely move. She should not have to become unrecognisable to prove that she is the bride.
The wedding industry profits from insecurity. It sells women a fantasy version of themselves and then convinces them that their real face and body are not enough. I fundamentally oppose that.
M: Looking at your previous collections and body of work, what has felt like the clearest expression of your creative values, and where do you feel your practice is headed now?
AK: I have never operated through conventional seasonal collections. An idea comes to me, and I bring it to life. The work grows organically.
Across my campaigns and collections, the message has remained consistent. Beauty does not belong to one colour, age, size, religion or type of woman. Style can challenge prejudice, but it should never make people feel inadequate in order to sell them something.
Beauty by Deception remains one of the clearest expressions of my values. I used my own transformation to expose how easily fashion can manufacture an image and then present it as reality. It was uncomfortable, but it needed to be.
My work with real women, including my mother, is equally important to me. I have deliberately shown darker skin, ageing, different bodies, crooked teeth and visible human characteristics because that is what people actually look like.
Creatively, the work I am making now feels most complete because fashion, art, interiors, photography and sculptural objects are beginning to exist in one world. I no longer feel the need to explain which category I belong to. I am a designer, stylist, artist and storyteller. The work can carry all of that.
M: As we head into the upcoming wedding and festive season, what are you working on next? Are there any textiles, colours, silhouettes or craft combinations you’re particularly excited to bring into the conversation?
AK: I am not designing around a seasonal colour forecast or trying to manufacture the next wedding trend. Trends are designed to expire. I want my work to remain desirable long after the industry has moved on.
I will continue working with exceptional Indian textiles, especially hand-painted Kalamkari, Kanjeevaram, Banarasi, Patola and Chanderi. I am interested in strong colours, unexpected contrasts and blouses that can transform a saree without overpowering its identity.
The styling will remain distinctly Indian. I have no interest in adding a Western element simply to make a traditional textile appear current. Indian textiles do not require validation from another design vocabulary.
Alongside the clothing and jewellery, I am developing the Ayush Kejriwal Art Project. This brings my love of colour, pattern, Indian visual culture and storytelling into hand-painted sculptural pieces.
It is not a departure from fashion. It is the same world expanding beyond the body. I am not interested in producing more for the sake of being constantly visible. I would rather make fewer things with a strong identity than fill the market with things nobody will remember.