Roots in Indore: A Creative Childhood
I grew up in
Indore, Madhya Pradesh, in a vibrant Marwari joint family. Life was always
bustling — filled with color, laughter, and a house full of people. As one of
three sisters, our childhood was a whirlwind of activities. If one of us showed
an interest in something, all three were enrolled. From classical music and
kathak to painting and craft, our mother made sure we experienced it all.
Though singing didn’t stay with me, I still hum classical tunes when I’m alone — usually in the middle of Bombay traffic. But art and craft? That was my solace. Even in school, while I wasn’t the top scorer, I was always engaged, eager to learn. Daly College — my alma mater — wasn’t just an educational institution; it was an architectural marvel spread over 120 acres. Growing up in such a beautiful, historic space was a privilege I deeply value.
From a young age, I was insatiably curious. While most kids looked forward to summer breaks as a time to relax, I was the one pestering my mother with, “What should I learn this year?” That hunger to create, to learn, to do something with my hands — it never really left me.
Discovering My Path in Fashion
Like many children, my dreams shifted constantly — one day a pilot, the next an astronaut, then a chef. But growing up in a business-oriented family, with a mother who was both an entrepreneur and designer, creativity and commerce were always around me.
At first, I considered hotel management, thanks to my love for cooking. But the requirement to cook non-vegetarian food was a deal breaker. I explored interior design next — it made sense with my father in the construction business. But watching my cousin work late nights on tiny architectural models made me realize it wasn’t for me.
Eventually, I came full circle — fashion felt right. It was expressive, playful, colorful, and didn’t involve science. In hindsight, the clues were always there. I had an elaborate Barbie collection — complete with a dream house, a car, and endless wardrobe options. I would make accessories out of tiny stolen trinkets from my mother’s drawer, stitch little outfits, and stage entire stories through clothing.
I pursued fashion design at SDPS College in Indore, affiliated with SNDT University. I chose to stay home during college — not out of convenience, but because I wanted access to my mom’s workshop. Each time I came home with a creative spark, she encouraged it. Even when I ruined fabrics experimenting, she would gently say, "You’ll only learn when you try." That trust and support built my confidence.
Learning from the Ground Up
Post-college, I interned at an export house in Bombay. This was in 2008 — internships weren’t structured, and certainly not glamorous. My first task was to clean out a dusty storeroom filled with fabric swatches and embroidery samples. What could have felt like a mundane chore turned out to be one of the most enriching experiences. I spent hours absorbing patterns, studying textures, and learning simply by observing. My love for detail — and perhaps a touch of OCD — kicked in, and the place sparkled by the time I was done.
No task was beneath me. Whether it was photocopying documents or visiting thread shops, I found a lesson in every errand. I’d read every document I copied, and ask questions about every thread I came across.
After that, I returned to Indore to work under my mother. I expected a relaxed schedule — I was wrong. She became my first real boss: punctual, precise, and no-nonsense. A 9-to-6 job meant no phones, no distractions, not even on birthdays. I managed the workshop, met clients, and handled demanding customers — including the legendary Indian aunties with blouse-fitting woes. But if you can convince an Indian aunty that her blouse fits perfectly, you can handle any client in the world.
Sharpening My Craft: London to Milan
During those six formative years, I also took short courses at the London College of Fashion. Eventually, I moved to Milan to pursue my Master’s — a decision that came seven years after my undergraduate degree. It wasn’t just for the diploma; it was to fill the gaps I had sensed in my own knowledge.
Milan was both humbling and transformative. I arrived mid-winter, unfamiliar with the language, culture, and academic rigor. I cried — often. But I also adapted. The fashion world had evolved in ways I hadn’t kept up with — techniques and tech that were now the norm were completely new to me. I started sneaking into undergrad classes just to catch up. Fortunately, kind professors allowed it, and soon I found myself juggling both Master's level coursework and foundational learning.
Despite the hardships, Milan was magical. I made friends from around the world and gained a new perspective on life. I also landed my dream job — working as an embroidery designer in Italy, contributing to labels like Valentino and Dolce & Gabbana. And yet, I lived out of a single IKEA wardrobe, sharing an apartment with eight others. Weekends were for shopping, and still, I’d say I had nothing to wear.
That frustration was the spark for Twee.
The Birth of Twee: Solving a Real Problem
Twee didn’t begin as a business idea — it started as a personal complaint. Limited closet space, constant outfit changes, and no time to change before events made fashion feel like a burden. As I spoke to more women, I realized I wasn’t alone.
That’s when I imagined a line of smart, reversible, and transformative garments. I returned to India not just to build a fashion label — but to create a purpose-driven, Made in India brand.
At House of Twee, we stand against fast fashion. We keep our turnaround time to just 2–3 days, and ensure that nothing goes to waste. Leftover fabric becomes kidswear, packaging bags stitched by women who lost their livelihoods during the pandemic, or filler for cushions that we donate through NGOs. We pay our labor ethically, avoid deadstock, and continuously innovate with designs that offer multiple looks in one.
I also consult for home grown brands — helping them scale sustainably, think in small batches, and tell stories through their work. And today, I’m pursuing a PhD in sustainable fashion — because I believe learning never really ends.
Love, Partnership, and Growth
Along the way, I met Harnesh — now my husband. A fashion and advertising photographer, we met during a fashion accelerator program, paired randomly for a test shoot. I emailed him; he replied in two minutes. The rest, as they say, was destiny.
We dated for six years, and one day spontaneously decided to get married over a weekend. Today, we share an office — otherwise, we’d barely get to see each other. Our conversations are a constant exchange: he updates me on AI, I share insights on fabric innovations. We grow together, travel together, and try to leave work at the doorstep when we return home.
Vision, Values, and Moving Forward
Twee is still growing, and so am I. I’m emotional, yes — when I’m overwhelmed, I cry. Not one to scream or shout, I let the tears flow, feel the emotions, and move forward. Maybe it’s the Scorpio in me — I embrace the chaos and the calm equally.
I’m known for my persistence. When faced with a challenge, I don’t take no for an answer. There’s always a way — you just have to look for it. In fashion, there’s no such thing as a smooth day. And that’s the fun of it.
My vision is simple: I want every woman to own just one Twee dress. Just one. If we can achieve that, we could stop a beach from turning into a landfill. Because sustainability isn’t only about organic fabrics. It’s about conscious decisions — about longevity, durability, and minimizing waste.
At Twee, we may use polyester blends where it makes sense — especially for our reversible pieces. But we upcycle, we reduce, we reuse, and most importantly, we respect. From fabric to labor to the woman wearing our designs — we are committed to doing better.
This is my story. This is Twee.