By Durrah Aman
On a sunlit morning, with the city’s rhythm fading behind us, we slipped into a quiet, almost nostalgic street where Kamiar Rokni’s studio rests tucked away. His dog greeted us first, a cheerful sentinel perched on the steps. Inside, the studio pulsed with life — clients slipping into half-finished outfits, others were lost in intimate consultations with the maestro himself. From a corner, I watched Kamiar glide through the space with effortless authority, sketching, adjusting, advising, orchestrating — often all at once. When the fittings paused and the bustle softened, we settled into conversation, tracing the journey of a designer shaped by heritage, family, and an enduring devotion to the art of craft.
We’ve heard you designed your first outfit at seven. Is that true?
It is — maybe I was seven, maybe even younger. I was that classic bacha, drawn to fashion from an early age. My glamorous Aunt Nina would visit us in Iran, and I would open her suitcase, pull out her clothes, and hide in the closet with them. I used to cut scraps of fabric to make clothes for dolls. In the 1980s, my grandmother would take me to cloth shops and ask me to choose prints. Colour always spoke to me instinctively.
There’s a culture of art in my family — painters, people with a strong sense of colour. Once, when I was very little, I told a relative that a shade of green didn’t suit her. They assumed someone had told me to say it, but I said it myself. That instinct was always there.
Your heritage is beautifully layered — Iranian roots and Bahawalpur lineage. How has that shaped you?
My father is Iranian, and my mother is from Bahawalpur, from an agricultural family whose forefathers served as home ministers to the Nawab. My parents met in Lahore as students, fell in love, married against convention, and moved to New York before returning to Iran. After their separation in 1979, my mother brought us back to Bahawalpur, and that city became the backdrop of my childhood.
I identify as Pakistani, and more specifically as Saraiki. South Punjab shaped my sensibility in profound ways.
Tell us about your education and what formed your creative path.
I studied at Sadiq Public School in Bahawalpur – a tough all-boys school. It was hard for an artistic child, but it made me resilient. At seventeen, I moved to Lahore College of Arts and Sciences for A-levels, where I studied history and politics, met lifelong friends, and discovered possibilities.
Soon after, the Pakistan Institute of Fashion Design started, and I joined its third batch in 1996. After graduating in 2000, my mother bought me a sewing machine and pushed me to start. With friends, we began tailoring clothes at home. Clients started coming, and Karma was born – a small ghar ka business that became one of Pakistan’s first ready-to-wear fashion houses.
After six years, I wanted independence and started my own label in 2006. Nearly twenty years later, the House of Kamiar Rokni is still growing.
How difficult was it to start over after leaving Karma?
Not at all easy. I had to rebuild everything from scratch. Family support carried me through, and clients helped simply by placing orders. I’ve always been a made-to-order designer — not just for brides, but for real women with real lives. Slowly, the business grew, and with limited funding, craftsmanship became my greatest strength.How much of Bahawalpur do we see in your work?
A lot. Bahawalpur is rich in craft – gota, shadow work, tarkashi, rilli, appliqué. I grew up watching artisans make Mayun and Mehndi joras at home. Those memories live in my work. Karachi visits exposed me to great Pakistani designers early on, so I saw proper fashion from childhood.
How important was family encouragement in your journey?
It was everything. My journey is proof of what can happen when parents truly support a child’s passion. Success isn’t about safe careers – it’s about commitment to what you love.
After more than twenty-five years in fashion, how does it feel to be considered a senior voice in the industry?
In my head, I still feel young. But I’m grateful. If people see you as someone who has set a standard, you have to carry that responsibility with care.
What is your design philosophy?
Clothes must serve the person wearing them. The outfit matters, but the wearer matters more. Design begins with the cut — the engineering — followed by careful planning and then decoration. There must be balance, imagination, and movement. Above all, women should be able to move freely in their clothes.
Your return to the runway at LAAM Fashion Week was highly anticipated. How did it feel?
It was very emotional. I had been waiting for the right platform to bring my designs to the ramp, and the response was overwhelming. Young designers and audiences approached me with so much warmth, reminding me that my work is far from done.
Tell us about your collection ‘Return’.
Return had many meanings – returning to the runway, to craftsmanship in a technological age, and to oneself. Handmade traditions must be preserved and reimagined. Fashion shows also exercise creative muscles – styling, music, storytelling, collaboration.
How has the audience changed over the years?
Social media has changed everything. Reviews used to appear in newspapers; now audiences respond instantly, and authenticity matters more than ever. Still, my clients remain loyal — sometimes their children return, wearing my designs decades later.
What is non-negotiable in your designs?
Quality – fabric, craftsmanship, and cut. I work with tradition and modernize it for today. I always think about who the woman is and how she will wear and re-wear the clothes.Would you ever venture into lawn or new categories?
Maybe luxury unstitched first. There’s also a side of me that wants to explore casual clothes someday. Who knows what the future holds.
How do you overcome creative blocks?
I read. Books always help.
What does a typical day look like for you?
I wake up early, take care of my dog and plants, and enjoy a slow morning before heading to the workshop. Appointments run until evening, but I try not to work late and encourage my team to do the same.
If you hadn’t been a designer, what would you be?
Something in the arts – actor, musician, maybe a professor. There’s a nerdy side to me too.
As a mentor, how do you see new talent?
Pakistan has incredible talent. Mentorship is a way to give back. Helping young people is service to the country.
Where do you see Pakistani fashion heading?
With new platforms, creativity will return to the forefront. We need that energy again.
What are you looking forward to next?
Staying healthy, growing organically, exploring new markets for handcrafted heritage clothing.
Lastly, what does being mindful mean to you?
Being mindful is being aware of your actions – reflecting and course-correcting when needed.
