Is London’s ‘diversity’ just a myth for South Asian designers vying for space?

As London grapples with economic challenges and rising xenophobia, South Asian designers confront a dual reality—thriving creatively while questioning the city’s viability as a fashion hub

There’s a certain pragmatism palpable when Harri KS speaks about London. “Out of all the fashion capitals [in the world], I’d pick London,” he says confidently. He’s specific—he’s talking about the city, not the country at large. “London is a very diverse city.” Armed with a postgraduate degree in menswear design from London College of Fashion, Harikrishnan Keezhathil Surendran Pillai or Harri KS—hailing from Kollam in rural Kerala, moved to the United Kingdom at a tricky period: 2020, right into the post-Brexit storm. London’s famed creativity pulse is a powerful draw for most designers, yet rising living costs, far-right extremism, and an anti-immigration outlook all cast doubt on its  future as a sanctuary for rebellious emerging creatives—particularly for those from South Asia.

For designers like Harri, London offers a paradox: it’s both a platform and battleground, a place that fosters creativity while testing resilience. 

Finding inspiration despite the othering

“London is always present in my work as I'm quite sentimental and often look at old photos from my growing-up years here for ideas,” says Priya Ahluwalia. Ahluwalia, a multi-award-winning menswear label by the designer was launched in 2018. Its experimental prints and colours—inspired by Ahluwalia’s Nigerian and Indian heritage—quickly gained the industry’s attention. 

Despite globalisation and the risk of being white-washed, London’s deep-rooted diversity—its long history of immigration, multicultural neighbourhoods, and influential diasporic communities—creates an environment where Indian designers like Ahluwalia can genuinely draw from several rich heritages without having to conform solely to mainstream standards. Rather than feel tokenised, designers can engage with their heritage in ways that are both authentic and meaningful within the city’s hybrid cultural fabric.

“I think London is especially good at supporting upcoming fashion talent. Being based here and having access to the British Fashion Council’s (BFC) resources and mentorship has been really helpful to me and my business. The city's energy and culture have shaped my work and helped me get to where I am today. I have always found creating my business to be fun, even when challenging,” shares Ahluwalia. While she is aware of her position of privilege, the many extraneous factors do cast a shadow on her work.  “Brexit, Covid, wars, and economic uncertainty—I have always felt confident in my vision and belief in what I am doing, so the difficulties outside of the business are the ones that have tested me the most. I have experienced discrimination in my career,” she notes. She particularly remembers an incident during an interview for a fashion role:  “The man interviewing me unexpectedly put his hand in my hair and commented on its size, which I found completely inappropriate.” This form of racial microaggression—subtle and often unconscious—reinforces a sense of otherness. 

Meanwhile, British-born, Sri-Lankan designer Amesh Wijesekera points to a more persistent issue. “Undertones of racism are always there,” he notes; it is a reality he endures daily,whether on public transport or walking down the street,, leaving him feeling like an outcast.“The first day I moved to London,” he recalls, “these gangs were shooting each other in front of my apartment.” 

British-Bangladeshi designer Rahemur Rahman, who is also a professor at Central Saint Martins, shares a similar sentiment. “Having grown up with rampant racism in the 1990s, on the Isle of Dogs, this feeling of dread and of unexpectedly being attacked was all too familiar. I thought times had changed in London, but I was very wrong.” 

A larger divide fuelled by racism

Both Rahman’s and Wijesekera’s experiences with racism are far from isolated incidents; they reflect a broader societal divide in Britain. For Rahman, being based in London is both a privilege and a disadvantage. The city’s image of being a multicultural haven often clashes with a more harsh, divisive reality on the ground.  “It becomes the echo chambers for hate and peace,” explains Rahman. “The contradiction I faced [growing up] was that the chances of an attack in a very overpopulated London were high,” he adds. Yet, unlike many others, he had access to a variety of safe spaces within the city.. “The many communities I am part of across the United Kingdom sadly don’t have that privilege,” he admits, noting that his thoughts are often with those who live in areas densely populated by supporters of extremist ideologies. 

The lack of urgency isn’t just a societal issue—it extends into the fashion industry as well. Rahman notes that fashion often aligns itself with the surface-level discourse on diversity and inclusion, yet fails to take meaningful action. “Fashion followed in the same footsteps of international politics,” he says, “it ignored pressing issues that impact the lives and experiences of people today.” Even at London Fashion Week, he notes, critical topics like Islamophobia are conspicuously absent. “London is built on the voices and lives of the marginalised,” he remarks. But the contradiction, he adds, is “that we celebrate the fashion and creativity of the most marginalised in history, while not fighting for their existence today.” 

The constant need to reinvent and evolve 

South Asian culture has long inspired global designers, who have embraced its rich crafts, textiles, and techniques. However, Diana Kakkar—founder of luxury womenswear atelier MAES London and a mentor at BFC’s Newgen (who also mentored Harri)—observes that designs rooted in South Asian traditions are often viewed as “niche,” which can hinder their commercial success. “These issues need to be addressed at both the institutional and cultural levels to foster a more inclusive, diverse, and fair fashion landscape,” she says. Speaking from her experience as a first-generation immigrant, Kakkar adds that adapting to London’s global fashion demands required constant evolution, from redesigning her portfolio to immersing herself in the local arts and culture. “I spent a lot of my time and money in making the UK my home and building a social currency. Having no family, I didn't have a safety net to fall back on,” she explains, emphasising the resilience required of immigrants in the fashion industry.

Forging success in a shifting retail landscape

Despite these barriers, some South Asian designers have managed to carve a spot in the competitive retail space, raising questions about what types of narratives or aesthetics appeal to global retailers. Kartik Research, for instance, saw its debut collection picked up by SSSENSE, Mr Porter, and Selfridges—an achievement that highlights the market’s increasing appetite for diverse voices. “It was like a real vote of confidence,” reflects Kartik Kumra, founder of the New Delhi-based artisanal fashion label, noting that post-pandemic buyers seek more varied  stories and aesthetics.

Yet, this success invites a deeper question: is the support of a few select South Asian designers and brands a sign of systemic change, or do they represent only a fraction of those who break through due to marketable narratives? As Wijesekera notes, “The entire market has shifted—consumers want a more personalised story, or they want to connect to a community. I think this has been an advantage for smaller brands, especially South Asian ones.” However, when it comes to industry prizes, Wijesekera and others feel tokenised, wondering if retail interest is more about fulfilling diversity optics than genuine industry evolution. Rahman echoes this thought, observing that South Asian designers often face pressure to lean into cultural stereotypes for recognition. 

The pressing need to adapt

The London fashion circuit, many designers agree, operates within a  “bubble” where the right connections hold considerable weight. “Growing up, I rarely saw prominent designers of colour showcasing at London Fashion Week,” notes Ahluwalia. While the industry has changed since then, creating “more space today for the South Asian community,” she points out that structural barriers persist. “More equitable access to funding, mentorship programmes, and platforms for showcasing one’s work could help foster even greater diversity and inclusion.” 

“There is a clear need for more inclusive support systems. Increased funding accessibility, mentorship programmes, and customised business development resources could significantly aid designers,” notes Kakkar.  The Family Mentoring programme by Anita Chiba of Diet Paratha is one such initiative, supporting emerging designers  like 2020 LVMH prize winner Supriya Lele and nominee Kartik Kumra. Similarly Rahman runs the BARI incubator at the British Bangladeshi Fashion Council, advocating for funding and aimed at working-class South Asian designers. “There won’t be an increase in working-class South Asian designers unless people fund creative projects for them,” he says, explaining that those who make it in the industry often come from wealthier backgrounds.    

Chiba concurs with Rahman on the concern around financial strain: “London is not supporting anybody. It's impossible to live here if you don't have money—it doesn't matter what your background [is].” Designers like Harri rely heavily on grants; his LCF-supported studio space ends in March 2025, and the NEWGEN grant that covered his production costs has already expired. “For my next presentation, I have to find sponsors or supporters who will help me host an event,” he says. “That search has to start right now.” 

While Newgen offers visibility, it doesn’t  guarantee commercial success, says Vikram Menon, Fashion Finance Consultant and Mentor at BFC, Founder at Fashionex Limited. Financial challenges have intensified, Kakkar notes, especially with MATCHES entering  administration this year. “The repercussions are being felt by the designers, and the domino effect continues,” she says. Yet, independent fashion designers are adaptable. Many are utilising  e-commerce and social media to reduce retail costs and some have embraced  made-to-order models to align with practices upholding sustainability. “Collaborations are a great way to bring the community together. Designers can bring their resources together to build collections, and host events and pop-ups,” adds Kakkar. Harri, too, benefits from direct-to-consumer sales, which increases his margins, notes Menon. Agility is key for smaller brands, says Ahluwalia, whose business adapted to challenges like Brexit, COVID, and the many economic shifts by diversifying income through accessories. Menon notes that many designers, particularly immigrants, take on part-time jobs to support their brands. Wijesekera, for instance, worked as a part-time chef in London before moving back to Sri Lanka, where he now manages his production. “I’ll be mostly operating from here,” he says, as the country stabilises. For Harri, London’s fast-paced lifestyle fuels creativity, but he depends on grants like the Global Talent Scheme, which support his visa.  Designer Namita Khade sees  the appeal of London for brand-building but prefers lower-cost production in other cities in the UK.  

“Economically it’s challenging for any emerging designer to start their business in London,” says Parisa Parmar, Creative Strategist and mentor at the Family Tree Mentoring, citing high rents, complex import/export rules, and limited funding. South Asian designers , in particular, struggle to access traditional financing like bank loans and venture capital due to limited credit history or an understanding of their business models. However, Parmar notes a strong cultural appetite in London for diverse brands.

Finding new ground to make a mark

Rahman, who was the first British Bangladeshi to showcase during London Fashion Week in 2019, believes change is slow. “I question why we, as South Asians, use these Western institutions as  benchmarks for success.” Despite London’s multiculturalism, the visibility of South Asian talent remains low, Parmar notes. However, she acknowledges that this is slowly changing, with brands like Louis Vuitton, Dior, and Gucci appointing Indian ambassadors. 

Additionally, she says, for Western markets to embrace South Asian designers, collections must adapt to local consumer preferences without losing authenticity. “Think of it as a language  translation but for your brand assets,” she says, emphasising that such adjustments can build trust and drive revenue. 

“London will always be a place where the weird and wonderful can exist and thrive [together],” says Rahman, acknowledging that for those planning to study, work or live there, the challenges in the UK may seem daunting. “I would advise leaning  on the institutions to work harder to make you feel safe.” 

Menon believes the fashion industry, alongside government agencies, could provide stronger support, while Chiba believes social media is an “incredible way for discovery.” “Eight-five per cent of consumers regard the virtual try-on feature as crucial in driving their purchasing decisions,” says Parmar, citing a report by Snap Inc. and Havas Media network from July 2023.  

Wijesekera, who wanted more focus on South Asian designers at London Fashion Week , notes a positive shift in June this year as LFW celebrated Black, South Asian, and queer communities’ contribution to menswear. Wijesekera envisions “South Asian takeover” or curated collections in major stores and institutions like the  V&A and the British Museum—which, at times, have special exhibitions focusing on South Asia—and significantly boost visibility. “Greater diversity on fashion boards, in the media, and at industry events would also help create stronger platforms for these designers,” says  Kakkar. 

Returning from the recently-concluded Lakmé Fashion Week held in New Delhi, Menon sees room for a deeper collaboration between the British and Indian fashion industries. “There's an opportunity to learn from each other, especially for young designers on both sides,” he says, praising the quality of contemporary menswear from India. “The opportunity for the world to see this level of design and craftsmanship would be truly exciting.”

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