Drawer menu
Ruhi's version of a work trip is a calendar invite and a carry-on. Mine is a camera, four shirts I couldn't decide between, and a plan to extend the return flight by two days without telling her until we'd landed.
The meeting was Friday afternoon. Everything after that was me.
She wore the wine shirt on the flight buttoned, tucked into taupe trousers, belt on, sleeves down. The most sensible she has ever looked.
I wore dusty rose with chocolate brown trousers, sleeves pushed up, because I was not going to the meeting and I wanted that to be visible from a distance.
By afternoon, we were in the boardroom, laptops open, coffee on the table, looking exactly like two people who had come to Jaipur for work.
And technically, we had.
By evening, the laptops were shut and Jaipur was still warm.
Here is the thing nobody tells you about packing light: you don't run out of clothes, you run out of ideas.We had two more days and the same suitcase, so we walked to the market instead of solving it.
Down past Hawa Mahal, into the lanes where the fabric shops begin. Ruhi was still wearing the wine shirt from Friday, but everything about it had changed. Sleeves rolled. Shirt untucked. Belt gone.
Same shirt, completely different mood.
Then she stopped at a stall and held up a lehenga skirt. Cream base. Kalamkari-inspired print. Tiny figures and detailed borders. The kind of thing you photograph and don't buy.
Around ₹2,000. She held it against the wine shirt, looked at me and said:
“This works, right?”
It absolutely worked; neither of us could explain why.
The Trial Room, Which Was Not a Room
It was a mirror at the back of the shop with a curtain that didn't quite close. Ruhi tried the skirt on, and suddenly the whole outfit made sense. The formal shirt did something interesting to the traditional print. A kurta would have been expected. A crop top would have been the obvious choice. The button-down was neither. It made the skirt feel modern without taking away what made it Jaipur.
This is the photo.
If you've seen one image from this trip, it's this one.
Ruhi in the white Purple Imli shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, tucked into the new printed skirt.
Me behind the camera. Those painted arches doing most of the work.
She spun once. Then again, I took far too many photographs.
I want to be precise about what's happening in that picture because it's the whole point of this trip.
That is a formal shirt. The same kind of shirt that could sit across a boardroom table on Friday afternoon.
Now it's holding up a hand-printed skirt in Jaipur, and it doesn't look like a compromise between two things.
It just looks like an outfit.
By sunset, we were ready to stop taking photographs for approximately five minutes.
We went up to the fort, found a quiet spot and sat down. Ruhi changed into the pink shirt with cream trousers and boots. I wore brown with denim.
We talked about the trip, the photographs, work, and eventually everything except clothes That's probably my favourite part of travelling with a friend.
At some point, the content stops being content. You just sit there.
The rooftop was our last stop.
Cold coffee. Jaipur turning gold underneath us. The wine shirt back in the picture, this time with black trousers.
No styling notes, No posing.
Just two friends talking about absolutely everything.
Here's my favourite part.
Ruhi wore the wine shirt to the airport.
But this time, it was with the Jaipur printed skirt and white sneakers.
Suitcase in one hand.
Coffee in the other.
Same shirt. Different rules.
Buttoned. Tucked. Belted. Sleeves down.
Friday.
Boring on purpose — the baseline everything else is measured against.
Shirt worn open over a tank, sleeves pushed up and paired with relaxed trousers.
For markets, travel and evenings.
A formal shirt tucked into a printed Jaipur skirt, sleeves rolled up, silver jewellery and sneakers.
Unexpected.
But somehow completely right.
The skirt is from a market in Jaipur, not from Purple Imli.
The shirt is ours.
That's the point.
We're not selling you a look.
We're making the piece that can survive the whole weekend.
