Anaita Shroff Adajania: “For me, my wedding sari remains timeless, infused with my story.”

I’m not a delicate person by nature. My style has always reflected that—strong and a little rough around the edges. For my wedding, lacy pastels were never in the running. I didn’t want the traditional Parsi sari; I wanted to live my white-gown fairy tale in an unmistakably Indian silhouette. On a tight budget and harbouring a dream, I went to Dhiren and Hemant Trivedi at Sheetal Design Studio with an idea that was unheard of 25 years ago—a sari that wasn’t quite a sari. They created a fixed lehenga with a hidden zipper, a fluid drape and a pallu that dissolved into a veil. It moved like a gown, yet carried the grace of a sari. Crafted in delicate net with intricate embroidery and long sleeves, it became the perfect canvas for an heirloom Art Deco necklace my grandfather had gifted me at my Navjot. That piece anchored the look—a thread of history running through something entirely new.

I met Homi [Adajania] at St. Xavier’s College. We were friends first, inseparable in that easy, unspoken way. He was free-spirited yet steady, balancing my restless energy. We were different in many ways, but our values lined up perfectly. And yes—the fact that he was a sun-kissed, hot scuba instructor with an insatiable appetite for adventure didn’t hurt.

We married at my mother-in-law’s home in Panchgani where an open aisle lay beneath swaying silver oak trees and ended at the edge of a cliff that dropped into a sweeping valley. It was more beautiful than I had ever imagined. The ceremony melted into a champagne brunch, then into a night-long celebration under the stars that vanished as the sun rose. My four-year-old ring bearer, now in her 20s, recently wore that same sari with a shimmering contemporary blouse—a sight that unlocked a rush of one of my most special memories.

Archival images from Anaita Shroff Adajania’s wedding, where she paired a
custom pre-draped sari-gown designed by Sheetal Design Studio with an Art Deco necklace gifted by her grandfather.

Our marriage has always been rooted in trust. When we travel separately, we’re present where we are, knowing the other will hold down the fort—home and kids. In our early years, we’d hide little scraps of paper in each other’s luggage and pockets of our packed clothes—fragments of affection discovered in faraway places. We rarely argue and if we do, we agree to disagree. We never sleep on a bad note; life is too short for that. Before you marry, ask yourself: when it gets hard, will you still want to stand beside each other? Will he still make you laugh decades later? Will those inner qualities remain? That, more than anything, is what endures.

On Anaita Shroff Adajania: Wedding sari, Anaita’s own. Belt worn as blouse, Pankaj & Nidhi. Crystalline jacket, Kilang Aier.

When I work with brides now, my aim is the same as it was for myself—to make a dream tangible. No two brides are alike. Some want quiet sensuality, others want tradition. My process is instinctive, shaping a look that belongs only to her, whether it’s for a grand wedding or a simple puja at home. My own trousseau— saris from across India—has lasted me decades. That’s the point: don’t build a trousseau ‘of the moment’. Choose pieces that will evolve with you and jewellery you’ll actually wear, not lock away. For me, my wedding sari remains timeless, infused with my story. I want that for every bride—that instant when she stands there, feeling wholly herself, radiant and unshakable. That moment is magic. And to help create it isn’t just my craft—it’s my privilege.