The Drawing
Every garment begins with a single line on butter paper — a silhouette drawn at the studio table, redrawn, then traced onto muslin for the tracing board.
Hand embroidery is not decoration. It is patience made visible — thread, softened by the hand, catching light in a way that only time can teach it to do.
— From the atelier journal →Rajasthan's embroidery vocabulary is wide and old. Zardozi, gold-wire work that travelled from Persia to the Mughal courts. Gota patti, flat ribbons of metal lace once reserved for royal courts. Dori, raised cord work. Sheesha, the small mirror set into bridal odhnis. Resham, silk thread laid like ink.
At the Surbhi Sabnani atelier in Jaipur, hand embroidery is not a flourish added at the end. It is the language the garment is drafted in. Every silhouette from the house is measured in hours of hand — not days, not weeks, but the slow arithmetic of a karigar and a needle.
We work in partnership with families who have kept the craft alive through four generations. The payments are named; the hands are named; the craft is named.
Every garment begins with a single line on butter paper — a silhouette drawn at the studio table, redrawn, then traced onto muslin for the tracing board.
The muslin is stretched across the adda, a wooden frame taller than the karigar. Working beneath it, he raises a hook to the surface and draws a single thread — gold, silk, or silver — through the cloth, ten thousand times.
A single lehenga carries between four hundred and eight hundred hours of hand embroidery. Before it leaves the atelier, it is blessed, pressed between muslin, and folded in hand-stitched cotton.
Details from the adda — embroidery, drape, and the quiet hand behind each piece.
Ustad — Master of the adda
Thirty-two years at the frame
Karigar — Gold-wire & gota specialist
Twenty-one years at the frame
Karigar — Finishing and dori
Eleven years at the frame