Multihyphenate Simran Randhawa is at our photography studio in Porto, getting her makeup done — a lotus tattoo visible on the back of her leg — as she prepares to be shoot in our Spring/Summer collection, reminding us that you don’t just need to be one thing in life.

Inspired by is our ever-growing encyclopedia of women and non-binary people that resist the traditional way and think and show up to the world through the alternative.

We had a conversation with Simran about how it feels to be asked the questions that highlight being outside the stereotype, and how she turns it into an opportunity to discuss what’s below the line.

Laura: How was your childhood, and how did it shape the person you are today?

Simran: My childhood was spent between London and Malaysia, mostly at my grandparents' place. It was a really rich and fun time, always surrounded by family—cousins, aunts, uncles. That sense of community shaped me a lot. I was never isolated, and I think that’s something I carry into my life today. I naturally gravitate toward people, and I feel most fulfilled when I’m in a communal setting, whether in my work or social life.

L: Has your understanding of home changed over the years?

S: Definitely. At first, I thought home was Malaysia because of my childhood memories. Then I thought it was London. But over time, I realised that home is really the space I create for myself, where I have my routine, my rituals—like journaling or spending time with my cats. Now, I’d say home is London for sure. Having a fixed place matters more to me as I get older.

L: How do you stay connected to your heritage in your daily life?

S: I think heritage is something that’s just part of you—it’s not always a conscious effort. It shows up in small things, like the food I eat, the rituals I follow, and even the way I express myself. For me, it’s also about language and fashion. My mom connects with her heritage through music and religion, while I do it differently. It evolves over time.

L: Can you describe the moment you realised you wanted to tell stories for a living?

S: There wasn’t one defining moment—it was more of a slow realization. When I was at university, I got involved with a group of women who started gal-dem, a publication by and for women and non-binary people of color. It was focused on telling authentic stories from our own perspectives. That experience really opened my eyes to the power of storytelling. Being around that community helped me realise that sharing our narratives could be both powerful and necessary. At the time, that kind of representation was still rare, and it made me want to be part of changing that.

L: What was your favorite story to tell throughout your career?

S: One that was really personal to me was a documentary I made about how growing up without a father affects young women. It’s a story we usually hear told about young boys or from male perspectives. Telling it from a girl's point of view really resonated with people, which I didn't expect. It felt both powerful and necessary — and deeply personal.

L: What’s been the most unexpected or surreal moment of your career so far?

S: Honestly, the whole thing. Coming from a first-generation immigrant family, my parents never saw this as a viable career path. And even I didn’t at first. I’ve just been figuring it out as I go, and somehow, I’ve built a creative life for myself. That, in itself, feels surreal.

L: How do you practice self-compassion in an industry that can feel hyper-critical?

S: Self-compassion is an ongoing practice. It’s about staying grounded and having things outside of work that give me perspective—like friendships that aren’t tied to the creative industry, working out, therapy, journaling. It helps me take rejection or redirection with more grace.

L: What does self-acceptance feel like to you today?

S: It just feels like being me, and allowing myself to exist without constantly trying to meet expectations. Especially as a young woman, there are so many pressures. Now, I try not to internalise them. I wouldn’t say it’s perfect — but I’ve come a long way in giving myself space to just be.

L: What does authentic representation mean to you?

S: Authentic representation means that stories are told by the people they are about—people with lived experiences. It’s not just about diversity for diversity’s sake, but about real, nuanced storytelling that moves beyond stereotypes.

L: How do you feel about being asked these kinds of questions?

S: It’s interesting. Sometimes, I feel like I’m asked these questions just because I’m brown or because I’ve spoken about these topics before. While these conversations are important, I also wonder what’s actually changing beyond them. I want to see more action, not just repeated discussions.

L: How do you think the media landscape has evolved for South Asian representation since you started?

S: I think it's come a long way, but there’s still so much further to go. There are more South Asian creatives in different fields, but we often have just a few visible figures in each industry. I want to see more depth and variety—more nuanced, everyday stories that aren’t centered on being South Asian but simply reflect our experiences.

L: Thank you so much Simran!

S: Thank you!