My father is from Kanpur, so conversations about kebabs and Awadhi culture were commonplace. Chikankari kurtas as gifts were the norm. Still, it wasn't until I began documenting Indian textiles that I understood what made this city so special.

Over the years, work and friendships have taken me to Lucknow more than a dozen times. I've attended family weddings, followed village trails to meet Chikankari artisans, had the privilege of studying heirloom mul and chikankari textiles owned by the Dudhoria family in Kolkata—an old zamindar family that has painstakingly preserved textiles from the Mughal period through generations—and listened to talks by Paola Manfredi, whose book Chikankari: A Lucknow Tradition can be found in almost every workshop and artisan gathering across Lucknow.

So when Lopamudra was enthusiastic about bringing a handful of niche, IYKYK labels from Lucknow for a special pop-up at AltaRasa, focusing on Chikan, Badla, Zardozi and other Awadhi crafts as a pre-festive nudge to Delhi, I didn't need much convincing. I put my curator's hat on immediately.

According to Paola Manfredi, references to white embroidery on fine muslin appear as early as the fourth century BCE in Megasthenes' accounts of the court of Chandragupta Maurya.

Manfredi outlines two possible origins for the craft. One traces it to Persia, perhaps where the folklore of Mughal empress Nur Jahan introducing Chikan to India originates, supported by miniature paintings depicting noblemen in flowing white garments embellished with delicate surface embroidery. The second suggests that Chikankari—with its 32 colloquially recognised (but perhaps more than 75 across iterations) stitches—evolved as a more accessible alternative to Bengal's gossamer Jamdani weaving, prized by royalty for its almost diaphanous quality.

As artisans travelled to Awadh and found patronage under its rich and indulgent Nawabs, Chikankari became part of the wardrobe of the affluent across the subcontinent. Even as we constantly discuss the fear of losing India's textile traditions, the love for this hand-embroidered, dainty work has held strong. In some form or another, at least one piece exists in most wardrobes. (You'll forgive me for taking the death pun too far, but Bollywood has adopted the white chikan kurta as its default funeral uniform!)

One detail from Manfredi's research has always stayed with me. Most surviving historical examples of Chikankari are garments and accessories made for men—angrakhas, shawls, wraps and children's garments appear frequently in museum collections. Today, that picture has almost reversed. The embroiderers are largely women, and so are the patrons.

Every time I visit the artisan clusters, I am struck by another irony. Many of the women who spend their afternoons embroidering Chikankari rarely wear it themselves. "Not even one stitch should be for free," one artisan once told me. For many families, embroidery by the women in the house is supplementary income, work done after the day's household chores have been completed, and the kids and cows have been cleaned and fed. The finished garment leaves their home for someone else's wardrobe.

Perhaps that is why wearing Chikankari has come to mean something more to me. It is a reminder of the labour, both physical and emotional, behind every stitch.

For Badass Begums—our pop-up on 6, 7 and 8 August 2026—Lopamudra and I wanted to bring together contemporary Chikankari alongside festive favourites. Pieces that can be worn every day, without waiting for an occasion or stretching a month's budget.

Chikankari is already well loved, so for this curation I also wanted to focus on three other Lucknowi textile traditions. The first is Daraz, a uniquely Awadhi appliqué technique that creates wave-like, fish and floral motifs. Most people know it as detailing on white kurtas, but brands like Tapas and Anai by Raghav have expanded it into entire coordinated sets. The second is Awadhi Leheriya. While Leheriya is more readily associated with Rajasthan, Awadh has its own tradition of vibrant, multicoloured dupattas, perhaps most memorably seen on Rekha in Umrao Jaan. And finally, Kamdani or Mukaish. Often used alongside Chikankari, Badla deserves attention in its own right. Fine beaten metal wires are shaped into delicate motifs that catch the light across sarees and dupattas. Tiny dots of silver scattered across fabric can look almost like stars against the night sky.

With that in mind, here are the labels we're bringing together.

Sanatkada is a social enterprise based in Lucknow that works with hundreds of women artisans across the city, producing not only Chikankari but also Mukaish and Awadhi Leheriya. Their accessible price points make them a wonderful entry point for anyone building a wardrobe around handcrafted textiles.

Tapas is one of Lucknow's best-kept secrets. Started by the wonderfully understated Mr Kailash and now run by the next generation under his tutelage, the brand draws inspiration from museum collections and archival textiles to reinterpret historic Chikan and Daraz techniques.

Sahar Samad's expertise has quietly shaped collections for many brands over the years, and we're delighted to bring her own label to AltaRasa. Her overlays, jackets and salwar kameez sets showcase the versatility of Lucknow's embroidery traditions.

Raghav Minocha's Anai brings a younger perspective to Awadhi crafts. His colour combinations, playful silhouettes and spirited use of Badla offer a different way of looking at familiar techniques.

Finally, Pleats Please presents Chikankari in a more celebratory mood, embellished with pearls and metallic accents. If you're looking ahead to Rakhi or Diwali, these are pieces worth trying on.