Everyone calls her Badi Mami.

In our family, the eldest aunt is not just a relative. She is the final word on weddings, the loudest laugh at dinner, and the person whose taste in clothes everyone quietly copies. So when she decided to open her own shop, nobody was surprised. When she refused all offers of help and said she would run it herself, nobody was surprised by that either.

House of Amroha is entirely her venture: owned by her, run by her. She sources every piece, checks every stitch and hem herself, sets the prices, packs the parcels, and replies to every message, often with a voice note longer than your order. What you get is what she would put her own daughters in. Nothing less clears her bar.

How she runs things

The house rules

Fabrics she would wear herself

If a cotton scratches, a seam puckers or a colour looks tired, it does not enter the shop. She checks by hand, not by photo.

Fair prices, no drama

Honest rates, clearly written. No fake sale timers, no games. If something costs more, she will happily tell you exactly why.

Packed like it is going to family

Every order is folded, wrapped and sent the way she sends clothes to her own people, because as far as she is concerned, you now are.

The name on the door

Why Amroha?

Amroha is our ancestral home, an old city in Uttar Pradesh known for its poets, its craftspeople and its unhurried sense of style. Jaun Elia and Rais Amrohvi wrote here; Kamal Amrohi carried its name into cinema. It is a place where elegance was never something you bought, it was something you simply had.

This house carries that inheritance. The clothes are for today; the eye that picks them was trained in Amroha.

Come see what she picked

The rack changes when she finds something worth adding, and only then.

Browse the shop