What purpose do fashion weeks serve if senior and upcoming designers alike host standalone shows, is a question the industry has been asking for some time. With Tarun Tahiliani at the British Residency in Hyderabad, Ritwik Khanna at Mayo College in Ajmer, Vaishali S. at the Asiatic Library steps in Mumbai, and Péro launching its home line at the AD show last year, it was a blockbuster year for brands wanting to make a singular point and stand out.

“A few years ago, fashion weeks were serious business. Our line sheets were ready, buyer appointments were locked, and we sold clothes after our Indian shows,” explains Aneeth Arora, founder of fashion brand Péro. “Now, for lack of a better word, it is entertainment. So we use them to tell our stories.”

For brands like Péro, who’ve religiously showcased at trade shows such as Tranoi in Paris, Premier in Berlin, and Pitti Uomo in Florence for the last 17 years — 34 seasons in all, by the time Indian fashion weeks arrive — the collection has been made, shown and sold to her key buyers in Europe and the U.S. (she stocks in 300 stores globally). So, the mood last month was celebratory for more reasons than one. In a way, the work was done, and the fun could begin.

At Lakmē Fashion Week 2026, Péro’s ‘Out of Office’ was perhaps the best show, rivalling its own Hello Kitty collab collection in 2025. The soundtrack, produced by long-time collaborators Stiff Kittens, was built around office sounds: ringtones, typewriter clicks, the hum of conversation around the water cooler.

The collection stayed within a palette of blue and white azo-free dyes — a combination developed over two years, and echoed the 9-to-5 theme of sponsor Lakmē’s newest make-up line.

All about teamwork

Five days later, when I sit down with her, Arora tells me how that morning “my weaver from Punjab called me to congratulate us on the show. His first question was, ‘How did you like the fabric?’ I turned around and asked him: ‘What did you think of the final design, since you’re the one who made it?’”

Arora, who has made a case for committing and growing with the same team, is not pressed. For her, inspiration is not something you pick up on a trip abroad, but the result of constant riffing with people who have raised your brand as closely as you have. She has stuck to the same PR, stylist, band, weavers and artisans for over a dozen collections, if not all. She looks at Péro as a collective — an entity separate from her, and to that end, does not believe in taking a bow at the end of the show. She has quietly taken her name off the brand and marketing materials over the last few years as well.

Old friends and threads

Outside the show, Anuj Sharma, designer and educator, known for his Button Masala technique (constructing clothing using buttons and rubber bands), was there to support Arora. The two began their journey together at the fashion week’s Gen Next category in 2009, and she’s the first in their group to get a finale.

The crowd waited for the show to open while admiring the Péro textiles that people have turned up in. I’d chosen a kala cotton twin-set with the floral embroidery of Kolkata’s famous bedsheets, but far more refined, from her Autumn-Winter ’25 show. A Japanese buyer insisted I turn up to Harajuku (Shibuya’s district known for its youthful fashion) in my exact look, because I’d fit right in. Japan is one of Péro’s biggest markets.

“With the little heart brooch or ribbon that we shared in the welcome kits, we’d already made the audience a part of the show,” Arora shares. As I look around my own room, the keys to my cupboard are adorned by a fabric heart from Péro. I’ve been wearing a micro purse from the Hello Kitty press kit everywhere. Péro’s unabashed pursuit of joy is contagious. Talking about fashion in these dark times seems banal, but each time I open the tiny bag in a restaurant, a child or people sitting at the next table always smile.

Modern alternative to the pinstripe

It is this innocence that Arora nurtures in all her shows and collections. “When a child approaches something, they are not wondering: what will people think. They just do it because they want to,” she says. So, when people ask her why her models are always dancing [to their own tune] on the runway, it is her joy that has transferred seamlessly from the design table to the runway.

The collection was full of Easter eggs and whimsy, too, in true Péro style. Looped merino wool stitches that gave a shearling effect on jackets and oversize trousers; ties worn at the back; plenty of finishes; a life-size fabric calculator as a bag. And an assembly line of striped pieces perfect for the office, a modern alternative to the business-wear appropriate pinstripe, but repping India’s textiles: mashru from Gujarat, handwoven silk from the South, ikat from Telangana.

Despite the loyal following and annual sales in Mumbai and Delhi, Péro’s price points remain aspirational. Arora insists that the market has balanced out to 60-40, with the 60% amounting from international numbers. She is keenly aware of what the market is willing to spend on. The brand will be relaunching a line of ‘pernials’: her response to cheap copycats — classic, fan favourite Péro shapes, at pocket-friendly prices. And her ‘Out of Office’ colection will hits stores in September.

Arora has not let the need of an algorithm or market force her to be front and centre of her brand’s narrative. And perhaps this is why its success (and the finale) feels like a collective moment shared by so many fashion people. They whistled and gave her show a five-minute standing ovation, and she watched it all, standing backstage.

The writer is a Mumbai-based fashion stylist.