Airport looks have become a trend in recent years. But long before they made it to Instagram reels and style blogs, they were already a silent signal of an unspoken language of identity, belonging, and success. Especially on early morning flights, the kind dominated by corporate travellers; what you wore and how you carried yourself felt like a quiet indicator of how far you’d come…or at least, how far you wanted others to believe you had.

The men wore their usual corporate armour – white or blue shirts, matching ties, polished shoes. The women had their version of the sharpness with blazers, heels, structured bags. Everyone looked like they had somewhere important to be, and knew exactly how to arrive.

And I remember thinking: this must be what it takes to belong.

So I tried. I mirrored it. For a while, I convinced myself that this was the formula, the uniform of success. But it never feel like me. It felt like learning a language I hadn’t grown up speaking.

And then the magic happened.

I joined Taneira. With it came not just a new workplace, but a new way of being. I started wearing sarees more often, first to work, then while travelling, and eventually even to meetings straight from the airport.

In a saree, I wasn’t trying to fit in anymore. I wasn’t copying someone else’s idea of professionalism. I was stepping into my own. The saree became something more than clothing, it felt like a return. To ease. To grace. To an identity I deeply treasure.

A crisp silk saree doesn’t wrinkle. It stays elegant all day, through flights, meetings, and everything in between. Quietly holding its place, not demanding attention, yet somehow commanding it.

With age and experience, has come the confidence to walk into any room without wondering if I belong. But doing it in a saree? That’s a very personal affirmation.

And the best part is that I’m not just wearing the brand for optics. I’m representing it. More importantly the woman it’s made for. The one who’s done trying to be someone else. The one who’s grown into herself.

That’s what makes this sense of belonging feel real. Not borrowed. Not performed.