VOGUE India

FOR THE PAST five years, I have yearned in a way that would qualify as ‘spiritually Gen Z’, a highschooler pining after a crush conjured up entirely in my mind. Finally, in November, the fantasy came to life—and did not disappoint. Both flirtations were brief, each lasting no more than 72 hours. But Chettinad, the land of cassata cottages and iron-willed achis, has firmly embedded herself in my soul. From my air-conditioned office hoisted high above a concrete cacophony, I replay a hot afternoon spent walking down streets where the only sounds were the screech of parrots dive-bombing into tamarind trees and the crunch of gravel under my leather sandals. In Chettinad, time trips and falls into itself. Shiny SUVs whiz past patinated mansions. Traditional sadhyas now boast vegan and…

Jacky Nayak Photographer, ‘They made history’, page 122 “When I feel overwhelmed, I ground myself by stepping away for a few minutes and focusing on my breath. It helps reset my mind and gives me space to think clearly.” Born and brought up in Odisha and now based in New Delhi, Jacky Nayak fuses fashion and feeling in his body of work. Tanvi Desai Thakkar Illustrator, ‘Be right back’, page 106 “I always take time in the morning to remove all external stimulation and pick a guided meditation to help set my mood for the day. My other saviours are the sea, the beach and watching the sunset at the end of the day.” Tanvi Desai Thakkar is a mixed-media artist based in Mumbai. Rooted in folk and tribal art,…

“Sometimes the colour combinations I choose are something I’ve just seen on the street, like the wall outside a shop or its shutters. Colour is everywhere in India, so it’s quite easy” —DARIBHA LYNDEM, tax collector, Mumbai “One of my greatest fears is walking into a room wearing the same thing as someone else—I’d have no choice but to go home” —KATRINA O’SHEA, finance professional, London “I wear a lot of suits and denim-on-denim looks, but every now and then, I’ll add a touch of whimsy—through accessories or an interesting silhouette” —SOMMYYAH AWAN, communications strategist, Toronto IF YOU’VE EVER found yourself at the receiving end of a “This is a school, not a fashion show” reprimand, having to style yourself for the corporate world as an adult can dredge up…

Melissa Joseph’s art career is rooted in a bittersweet irony: her late father, who had initially discouraged her from pursuing a career in the arts, is now one of the most prominent figures in the needle-point felt works that have earned her international acclaim. “My father was a general surgeon, and it’s not unusual that he would have also wanted me to do that,” shares the Indian-American artist, speaking from her home in Brooklyn. “I did one year in pre-med at Barnard College in New York City, and it just wasn’t for me. I’m squeamish around blood.” Joseph’s father, who hailed from Kerala and later made a life for himself in small-town Pennsylvania, passed away in 2015. By then, Joseph had scraped together an eclectic resume: she had a liberal…

Somewhere between “Is she wearing that?” and “Oh my God, she’s wearing that?” lives the naked dress. That shimmering, strategic illusion that has turned the red carpet into a dermatological showcase. This attempt to rebrand the oldest state of existence makes an appearance every few fashion cycles. You would think with all its milestone moments—like when Cher turned this sparkly game of déjà vu into a sport through the ’70s or Kate Moss unwittingly turned gauze into a statement of nonchalance in 1993—we’d be tired of the discussion past the point of Rihanna’s Swarovski exorcism of fabric in 2014. Yet here we are, over a decade later, still mystified in the comments section. In 2025, the red carpet has come to expect—no, demand—at least one naked dress, thanks to laser-cutting…

THERE’S A CERTAIN volume to life in an Indian city. Mornings sound like the hiss of pressure cookers, cars groaning under your balcony and alarms reminding you to join one Zoom call after another. On the day I decided to commit to a silent detox, the city was undeniably loud, but my mind was louder. What was supposed to be my inner voice had morphed into an impossible-to-mute group chat. My daily screen time was clocking double digits and I couldn’t remember the last time I sat still without tapping my feet. It had reached a point where I found myself unable to recall a single sentence exchanged over lunch with friends. I was emotionally checked out of every conversation. And it couldn’t go on like that. So I committed…