On a winter evening in Kolkata, as marriage officials began ruffling files, Anupriya Paul walked into her wedding stage wearing an original Sabyasachi Mukherjee lehenga.
There was no mandap. No banana leaves tied to pillars. Just a handful of family members, a few close friends, and a government official preparing documents for signatures. And yet, Paul looked every bit the bride of a cinematic wedding.
She wore a vivid pink lehenga, richly embroidered in antique gold florals that bloomed densely across the skirt. The blouse, intricately worked but sharply cut, framed layered jewellery at her neck. A sheer dupatta with a fine gold border softened the intensity of the ensemble, falling gracefully over her shoulders. Green bangles punctuated her wrists. The skirt, when she moved, caught air and curved outward in a near-perfect arc.
Even though the ceremony was minimal, the garment was grand. This contrast captures something essential about the contemporary Indian bridal market. Between November 1 and December 14 last year, weddings in India generated Rs 6.5 lakh crore business from 46 lakh weddings, as estimated by the Confederation of All India Traders. According to a Jefferies report, the domestic celebration wear market is a significant portion of the larger wedding industry, which is valued at around Rs 10.5 lakh crore annually, in which womenswear accounts for nearly 75% of the total market.
Yet, even as ritual formats are diversifying and guest lists are shrinking or expanding as per preferences, the lehenga remains untouchable. “Growing up, I was kind of obsessed with designer bridal lehengas, so it made my decision easier when it came to my own wedding,” says Paul.
For a Bengali bride, the choice is not merely aesthetic. The red Banarasi saree has long functioned as ritual inheritance. Woven in silk and zari, passed down across generations, it anchors the visual grammar of Bengali weddings.
Paul does not reject that history. “Personally, I love wearing sarees, I can wear a saree anytime, anywhere. But for my wedding, I wanted to wear something I wouldn’t otherwise choose. I wouldn’t buy a lehenga to wear to someone else’s wedding or for another function, I would always pick a saree. So I felt that if there was ever a moment to choose a lehenga, it had to be my own wedding.”
Catalyst for change
“The lehenga wasn’t always the default bridal choice,” says designer Varun Bahl. “Three or four decades ago, the Banarasi saree reigned supreme. The Bengali bride had her Banarasi, the Tamil bride her Kanjivaram. The lehenga was ceremonial, not specifically bridal.”
Historically, the lehenga-choli-odhni silhouette emerged from north Indian court dressing, particularly under Mughal patronage. But it was regionally concentrated. Its transformation into the pan-Indian bridal default required two accelerants: cinema and liberalisation. “Bollywood was the biggest catalyst for change,” Bahl says. “When you saw Bollywood stars in the 90s in iconic lehengas, the entire generation fell in love with that. Then came economic liberalisation, which created a new class of consumers who wanted grandeur, and nothing says grandeur like a lehenga.”
The silhouette’s architecture—skirt, blouse, dupatta—lends itself to surface elaboration. Embroidery can be layered in varying densities, colour can be deployed dramatically, fabric weight can signal opulence. In the age of high-definition photography and choreographed wedding reels, the lehenga performs.
“The lehenga became the quintessential bridal garment through a natural evolution of Indian ceremonial dressing,” says Abhinav Mishra, a sought-after Indian designer famous for mirror work on textile. “Historically, royal courts across Rajasthan and north India embraced the lehenga-odhni silhouette as a symbol of celebration and status. Over time, as weddings became more elaborate and multi-event affairs, the lehenga offered the perfect canvas for craft including embroidery, zardozi, gota and mirror work, all techniques that define Indian artistry.”
At JADE by Monica and Karishma, co-founder Monica Shah places the shift within a longer cultural arc. “Historically, different regions of India had different bridal garments. The lehenga as we know it today draws from north Indian court dressing, particularly from the Mughal era, where flared skirts paired with cholis and odhnis became symbols of royalty and ceremonial dressing. Over time, cinema amplified it. Designers began elevating bridal wear into spectacle, and the lehenga offered scale.”
Shantnu & Nikhil, meanwhile, views lehenga through an architectural lens. “The lehenga is not approached as a static emblem of tradition, but as a silhouette that continues to evolve alongside the modern bride. Its enduring relevance lies in its ability to command presence visually, emotionally, and ceremonially,” says Nikhil Mehra. “Our interpretation is rooted in the Maison’s design codes of structure, precision, and sculptural drama. We approach it architecturally: engineered volumes, controlled drapes, sharply contoured blouses, and a calibrated balance between strength and fluidity.”
For JJ Valaya, the lehenga’s centrality was never accidental. “The lehenga did not ‘become’ central, it has historically been a part of royal dressing in India and, for a long time, the natural bridal silhouette in large parts of India. It has deep ceremonial roots. What’s changed over time is not its relevance, but its scale and treatment,” he says. “As weddings became larger and more visual, the lehenga evolved from traditional attire into couture. Designers amplified its craftsmanship, volume, and drama, but the emotional anchor was always there. I am glad it remains dominant.”
Business of bridalwear
The bridal segment is resilient even during economic slowdowns—families may trim guest lists or venue budgets, but rarely compromise on the bride’s outfit.
JADE’s Shah is candid about the numbers. “Lehengas continue to form a significant share of bridal revenue. They remain the emotional centerpiece for most brides, and historically they’ve also been our strongest-performing category,” explains.
At JJ Valaya, lehengas account for roughly 60% of womenswear bridal revenue. “What has shifted is the price architecture and expectation. Brides today invest more deeply in one defining lehenga… often making it the single largest wardrobe decision of the wedding.”
The distribution is more balanced for Shantnu & Nikhil. “Within womenswear, lehengas contribute approximately 30% of our business, although this proportion remains dynamic across seasons. The landscape today reflects a broader distribution across lehengas, volume gowns, and sculpted cocktail silhouettes,” says Shantnu Mehra.
Creativity vs reinvention
Critics argue that the dependence on lehenga can create creative inertia. But designers disagree. “For me, the lehenga is not restrictive. It is expansive. It becomes a storytelling surface,” Mishra says. “Creativity comes through surface embellishment where mirror work is explored in scale, density and layering to create movement and reflective play. Textile choices allow us to build depth by combining silks, organza, tulle and heritage weaves.”
Bahl frames constraint as opportunity. “Constraint is where the most interesting creativity lives. The form is essentially fixed and that’s precisely the condition that forces you to go deeper rather than wider.”
He is wary of radical reinvention. “A radical reinvention that unmoors the lehenga from its traditional scaffolding? I’m not sure that’s even desirable. The wedding is not a runway. The bride will look at photographs of herself for the rest of her life, and the garment carries the weight of that.”
Nikhil frames reinterpretation differently: “We think reinterpretation of the lehenga is often quieter than people expect. The silhouette carries a strong emotional and cultural familiarity. Reimagination doesn’t always require altering the lehenga itself. Sometimes, changing the context, the pairing, or the attitude is enough to make the silhouette feel entirely new.”
“At JADE, brides come to us very specifically for lehengas, especially now, with our more customised pieces where we’ve reimagined techniques like Kasab, a Mughal-era craft, or worked with pure silver thread. These pieces that incorporate a strong storytelling have directly influenced demand.” While other categories grow, the lehenga remains dominant, though engagement is more nuanced. “There’s a shift in how brides think about longevity. Many are actively asking, ‘Can I wear this again?’ Versatility is becoming a norm now.”
Redefining aspiration
If couture ateliers represent the apex of bridal aspiration, Delhi’s Chandni Chowk represents its democratisation. On a crowded October afternoon, Gaurika Babal Saluja—a Punjabi bride—stood outside Om Parkash Jawahar Lal, one of the oldest bridal stores in the area, waiting her turn. The queue spilled onto the street. She had to wait for 45 minutes.
But her lehenga hunt had begun elsewhere. “I started my lehenga hunt in Mehrauli, at the designer boutiques there,” she says. “I really wanted to map the season, to understand what the design language was, what colours and embroideries were trending. Of course, the customer experience there is excellent. You’re treated beautifully, everything feels very curated and premium.”
From there, she moved to Shahpur Jat. “There were mostly smaller designers. The pricing was more comfortable, but it didn’t feel very next-level in terms of craft or finish.”
Eventually, she headed to Chandni Chowk, following recommendations for Lalit Dalmia, Om Parkash Jawahar Lal and Asiana. “Around these stores, you’ll find every possible dupe, and the pricing is a mix. It honestly depends on the finishing of the lehenga, that’s what changes the cost. I think it’s a myth that just because it’s Chandni Chowk, everything will be cheap.”
Inside Om Parkash, she encountered a tiered pricing system that mirrored luxury retail logic. “The range starts from about Rs 10,000 and then goes up across all kinds of price brackets,” she says. “Once inside, the shopkeeper took me to different stalls and asked me about my price range, the colour, the kind of design I was looking for. Based on that, he started pulling out options.”
The experience was transactional yet attentive. “When I finally chose my piece, they made me try it on with their jewellery so I could understand the full look, how it would actually come together as a bridal outfit. I paid 50% as a booking amount. It’s made to order, so it took about one-and-a-half to two months, and then it was delivered home.”
She overheard customers requesting specific references. “They had everything, from Sabyasachi saree dupes to Kiara Advani’s ombre lehenga replicas. I could overhear other customers asking for those by name. And the interesting part is, almost everything could be personalised.”
That assessment aligns with what shopkeepers say. “About 60-70% of brides now come with reference pictures,” says Lokesh Kumar, a staff at Mahavir Collections nearby. “Earlier they would say, ‘heavy dikhaiye’. Now they say, ‘yeh Nupur Sanon wala shade chahiye.’”
Designers’ names are invoked freely. “Original is around Rs 7-8 lakh,” Kumar says matter-of-factly, adding, “ Saree is cheaper but people prefer lehenga mostly,” when I asked him about saree sales. He said seven out of 10 brides would get a lehenga and sarees are mostly opted by the mother of the bride or groom. Another shopkeeper, Renu at Rajesh Paul Bridal Shop, explains the pricing logic bluntly. “We can make a fresh piece in Rs 70,000-Rs 80,000 which is originally worth Rs 3-4 lakh by a designer. Work pe depend karta hai,” she says.
This phrase is repeated often in the lanes. Embroidery density, fabric quality, finishing, and delivery timeline determine cost. Kumar spreads his arms wide when describing what brides want. “Stage pe spread hona chahiye,” he says.
Rewear & rationalisation
The most persistent critique of bridal lehengas concerns utility. Unlike sarees, which can be re-draped across occasions, lehengas are perceived as one-time investments. Paul anticipated that question. “I did get the occasional comment—‘You’re never going to wear your wedding lehenga again, so why invest so much?’—but I didn’t give that too much thought. I figured I would find ways to reuse it, and I did. I paired my lehenga blouse with a saree later, and I’ve also worn the lehenga skirt with a different top. You can keep reworking it.” That modular approach, breaking the lehenga into components, reflects how younger brides reconcile luxury with pragmatism.
There is growing emphasis on versatility. Brides are curating wardrobes across functions. Lighter silhouettes for haldi, experimental drapes for sangeet, heirloom sarees for receptions. Yet the wedding-day lehenga remains sacrosanct.
For global-facing designers like Prabal Gurung, India’s concentration on occasionwear is not creative stagnation but strategic strength. “I do not see India’s deep connection to occasion wear as a limitation. I see it as extraordinary power,” he says. “In India, weddings and festivals are not transactions. They are cultural rituals. They are multi-generational, emotional, spiritual events. The level of investment in craftsmanship, embroidery, and textile artistry that surrounds these occasions is unparalleled anywhere in the world.”
He argues that the opportunity lies not in abandoning bridal, but in leveraging its craft ecosystem into other categories. “India’s roots are not an obstacle to global scalability. They are its competitive advantage.” In that sense, the lehenga is an economic engine—sustaining weavers, embroiderers, karigars, retailers and designers across price tiers.
Back in Kolkata, after the registrar stamped the final document, Paul stepped outside the hall. Photographers urged her to twirl. The skirt lifted, catching air. Fun followed. For future brides, her advice is pragmatic. “If you don’t love wearing a saree or feel you can’t carry it comfortably throughout the day, then definitely consider wearing a lehenga. And honestly, twirling videos are much more fun.”