Bollywood didn’t mean to influence queer fashion. It did anyway

From bold, over-the-top costumery to an unabashed sense of flamboyance, Bollywood has long been a subversive form of inspiration for queer fashion

When Rekha played Madam X in the eponymous 1994 film, it barely made a dent in Bollywood history. Even though a female-led feature was quite revolutionary at the time, the plot was a trashy mishmash of Don (1978) and The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) at best. But it was Rekha’s maximalist wardrobe of decadent epaulettes, velvet gloves, leather headwraps, fur ushankas, and chiffon capes—paired with umpteen costume changes, that most likely helped one sit through the two-hour train wreck. The character—part underworld boss, part style oracle—offered an unexpected blueprint for drag in India years before the term had entered mainstream Indian vocabulary. Her sequinned fits, smoky eyes, and mesh veils weren’t just Bollywood fashion but weapons of intimidation. Performer Violet Chachki once said it was Madam X who inspired her drag immensely—neither the film, nor the hero. But the anti-heroine and her iconic fashion. 

How Bollywood’s Bold Female Characters Became Queer Fashion Icons

Bollywood has always pulsed with an energy that goes beyond bargain entertainment—blurring the lines between ideology, fashion, and fantasy and playing a role in shaping the fabric of Indian society and its lofty diaspora. Among the earliest to decode and embrace the aesthetics of the industry were queer audiences, particularly the hyper-stylised sensibilities of the ‘bad girl,’ finding common ground in the unapologetic glamour and coded otherness. 

“We have often overlooked how the queer community, with their rich and vibrant lives, have taken Bollywood’s fashion and made it cooler,” says fashion and lifestyle journalist Bandana Tewari. What began as Bollywood's complex relationship with queer fashion has transformed from a tool of vilification to a powerful marker of self-expression, largely through the emergence of queer icons who shaped Indian style.

In the 1980s and 1990s, the portrayal of powerful women in mainstream Hindi cinema was often given a negative spin: relegated to the shadows, cast as villains or figures of ridicule. The ‘vamp’ archetype—Bollywood’s go-to for moral disruption—captured this dynamic perfectly. These fictional women who threatened the traditional family structure were visually marked by their departure from conventional femininity. Westernised attire, revealing sarees, pronounced make-up, and modern hairstyles stood in stark contrast to the conservative wardrobe of the do-no-wrong heroine. This sartorial othering served as a camouflaged representation of non-heteronormative sexualities during a time when explicit depictions were missing.

“Bollywood has always been a mirror and a magnifier. For decades, queer folks found fragments of themselves in its drama, its opulence, its yearning—coded into the songs, the sarees, the side characters. We learned to read between the lines, to find ourselves in the shadows,” says actor Trinetra Halder Gummaraju. Consider actor and performer Helen, whose dance numbers and Westernised attire in countless films often signified morally ambiguous characters, or actor Bindu Nanubhai Desai in Zanjeer (1973), whose modern styling set her apart from the saree-clad sanctity of the traditional heroine.

Transgender and Queer Stereotypes in Bollywood Films

The few queer-esque characters were often used for comedic relief or as antagonists. Effeminate male characters were draped in flamboyant clothing and attributed exaggerated gestures, as seen in films like Raja Hindustani (1996) or Dostana (2008). Even more insidious was the depiction of transgender characters as villains in horror films, linking trans and non-binary identities with malevolence and social threat. Films like Sadak (1991) and Sangharsh (1999) relied heavily on these tropes, further marginalising a community already struggling for recognition and belonging. Amidst this landscape, early attempts at more nuanced representation began to emerge. Films cautiously ventured into new territory, depicting lesbian relationships, as in Fire (1996), or focusing on gay men living with HIV, as in My Brother Nikhil (2005). However, these films often operated within the constraints of societal acceptance.

In the face of marginalisation, the queer community, long defined by its resilience, began to reclaim the demonised aesthetics: vibrant colours, ornate embellishments, and extravagant hairstyles were reinterpreted and reimagined. Gummaraju, who recently starred in the web series Made in Heaven, adds, “We found bits of our queerness in the campy hyper-femininity and unabashed sexuality of actors like Rekha and Zeenat Aman—unapologetic, magnetic, free. These women weren’t just stars, they were symbols of possibility.”

Kanjeevaram, Chiffon, and Camp: Bollywood’s Unexpected Influence on Indian Drag

Drag, in particular, played a pivotal role with performers incorporating Bollywood’s vampy visual codes into their acts, transforming them into powerful statements of identity and artistry. Drag artist and queer activist Patruni Sastry says, “Older women and mothers-in-law, who have often found themselves cast in a negative light, have also been seen as icons in the Indian drag scene. Actors like Manorama decked up in clashing patterns and over-the-top jewellery, have influenced me to experiment.” Sastry also recollects how certain textiles like Kanjeevaram and chiffon were associated with the villain or the ‘other woman’—eventually to be dubbed ‘chic’. 

The captivating and subversive glamour of actresses like Aruna Irani in Caravan (1971) and Qurbani (1980), and Padma Khanna in Sanyasi (1975) and Muqaddar Ka Sikandar (1978), provided rich sources of inspiration. These styles in Bollywood, however, were far from being isolated. They drew heavily from the eclecticism of global queer subcultures—from Burlesque and Ballroom culture to Black dandyism—empowering Indian queer creatives to forge a uniquely reinterpreted visual vocabulary. “The arts, and within it the film industry, rides on so much queer talent, and it is apparent that these sensibilities are translated on screen. Translucent shirts on Shah Rukh Khan in the song ‘Suraj Hua Maddham’ from Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham (2001) and Hrithik Roshan in ‘Ek Pal Ka Jeena’ from Kaho Na Pyaar Hai (2000), or Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s [portrayal of] larger-than-life worlds—it is all so inherently queer,” says artist Anwesh Sahoo. More recently, more actors have challenged traditional notions of gendered dressing, like Ranveer Singh in Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani (2023) or Sushant Divgikar in Thank You For Coming (2023), resonating with a new generation of queer masses. The icons of the yore and new-age stars have a common factor—a sense of theatricality aligned with the experiences and sensibilities of the LGBTQ+ community.

How Queer Fashion Designers in India Shape Bollywood Style

Aiding this shift, the 1990s and the early 2000s saw a plethora of queer fashion designers and entrepreneurs emerge—shaping trends and tweaking binaries to build new worlds for Indian fashion. In 1989, Wendell Rodricks launched his eponymous label, spoke unrepentantly about his sexuality, reimagined resortwear, and revived the Goan Kunbi saree. James Ferreira launched his namesake brand in 1992, dressing Bollywood stars and international celebrities alike. Even though many of the designers did not come out publicly, their work reflected queer codes, becoming instrumental in transforming the landscape for openly queer talent. Designer Manish Malhotra lionised maximalist costume design in popular cinema, making it a vital ingredient of cinematic storytelling, while Sabyasachi reinvented Indian textiles through global silhouettes before taking over the bridal market. These shifts undoubtedly cleared the path for drag artists and actors like Glorious Luna, Durga Gawde, Trinetra Halder Gummaraju, and Sushant Divgikar, who have gone on to be featured on covers of fashion magazines and cast in commercial films, both otherwise reserved for cis-het Bollywood stars.

The tables have turned: Bollywood’s fashion, once a beacon for queer aspirations, has finally found its muse in the very community. The queer reclamation of ‘badness’ has elevated it to icon status. The fearless experimentation and the celebration of individuality has hopped off the silver screen, characterised queer style, and made its way back into the mainstream. In what is a bittersweet full-circle moment, queerness and its contributions to a larger sartorial evolution have begun to be acknowledged, along with the women who weren’t afraid to misbehave on camera. Now more than ever.

Curated by Gaysi Family

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