Every wedding season, without fail, a groom asks me some version of the same question. He has his sherwani sorted for the pheras, his bandhgala pressed for the reception, and then he pauses and says, "I'll just wear the same thing for the baraat, right? It's basically the same day."
It is not the same day. It is not even the same job for the clothes to do.
The baraat is theatre before the ceremony even begins. You are on a horse, in a car with the sunroof open, or dancing down a lane surrounded by drums and cousins who have had two drinks too many. Your ceremony look is built to be seen up close, under soft mandap light, for the length of the phere. Your baraat look has to survive movement, distance, dust, and a hundred phone cameras held up at odd angles. Treating them as the same outfit is where I see grooms lose the moment they will actually remember most.
The Case for a Separate Entrance Outfit
I think of a wedding wardrobe the way I think of a film score: different scenes need different cues, even when the story is the same. The baraat is your entrance scene, and entrance scenes are shot wide. Fine embroidery that reads as exquisite at arm's length turns into a blur from thirty feet away on a moving horse. What reads at that distance is color, silhouette, and shine, not detail.
This is why I almost always steer my grooms toward something bolder and simpler for the baraat than for the phere itself. Save the densest hand embroidery, the family heirloom buttons, the layered jewelry for the ceremony, where guests are seated close and the photographer has time to linger. For the entrance, give me a strong silhouette and a color that carries.
The Aesthetic: Built for Movement, Not Just for the Mandap
This wedding season I am seeing a real shift in what "works" for a baraat. Ivory has quietly overtaken deep red and maroon as the most requested entrance shade for my grooms, paired with rich jewel tones like bottle green, navy, and a deep wine for anyone marrying in the cooler months ahead. Velvet is having a real moment for winter baraats too, in those same jewel tones, because it catches light beautifully even from a distance and photographs with a depth that flat silk sometimes lacks.
Silhouette-wise, I am styling a lot more structured, double-breasted bandhgalas and sherwanis with a longer, sharper jacket line this season. A longer silhouette simply holds its shape better on a horse or in a moving car than something shorter and fitted at the waist. If a groom is dancing his way down the street instead, I lighten the fabric and drop the layers so he is not drenched in embroidery and sweat by the time he reaches the mandap.
The Stylist's Touch: The Layers That Do the Real Work
The entrance look lives or dies in its layering, and this is where I spend most of my styling energy. A well-tied safa with a kalgi pinned at an angle adds height and presence that photographs beautifully from a distance, something no amount of embroidery can replicate. I am also bringing the kamarbandh back for more of my grooms this year, not just as an accessory but as a structural piece that defines the waist and keeps a longer jacket from reading as shapeless on camera.
For grooms getting married between November and February, I build in an angavastram or an embroidered stole that can be draped for the entrance and removed the moment he steps inside for the ceremony, so he is not stuck sweating through a heavy shawl indoors. Mojaris matter more here than people think too. A groom walking or dancing through a baraat needs a pair that is broken in, not brand new and stiff from the box. I have had more than one groom limping through his own reception because nobody told him to wear his mojaris around the house for a week first.
Small personal touches are trending into this too. I have styled a few grooms this season with monogrammed buttons or a hidden embroidered message stitched into the inner lining of the entrance jacket, a detail nobody sees except him, and somehow that seems to matter more than anything visible.
Here is what I tell every groom before his baraat fitting:
Choose a bolder, simpler silhouette for the entrance than you would for the ceremony itself; fine detail gets lost at a distance.
Pick a color that carries: ivory, bottle green, navy, and deep wine are all reading beautifully on camera this season.
Break in your mojaris at least a week before the wedding, never on the day itself.
Build in a removable layer, a stole or angavastram, so you are not overheating once you move indoors.
Let the safa and kalgi do the work of adding presence rather than piling on extra embroidery.
Save your most intricate, most personal pieces, heirloom buttons, layered jewelry, for the ceremony where people will actually be close enough to see them.
Why This Matters to Me
At SGK Styles, I see myself as the Creative Director of a wedding wardrobe, not just the person who picks pretty clothes. That means thinking about where a groom will be standing, how far the camera will be, and how his body will move through a day that asks completely different things of him from morning to night. The baraat is the one moment where the groom, not the bride, gets to be the entrance. I want every one of my grooms to walk into that moment looking like the most confident version of himself, dressed for the scene he is actually in.
If you are planning your baraat look and are not sure whether it should match your ceremony outfit or stand entirely on its own, I would love to talk it through with you. Every entrance deserves its own wardrobe moment, and I am always happy to help you find yours.
With love and style,
Shreya Gupta Kedia
Founder, SGK Styles
