Loud, proud, and unapologetic—these queer creatives are keeping maximalist fashion alive

It’s hard to miss the memo stitched into a thousand corseted gowns and sequinned bodysuits: Quiet luxury is out; excess is back on the menu. This year, runways from Schiaparelli, Louis Vuitton, Gaurav Gupta, and even Sabyasachi, confirm it—fashion isn’t whispering anymore. It’s screaming, stomping, and demanding our attention. Eccentric, exuberant, and louder than ever.

But this revival of maximalism isn’t just about stacking up jewellery or layering textures. It’s about dressing with the urgency of someone who refuses to be ignored. Fashion has laid a bouquet of pristine lilies on the grave of stealth wealth, clearing space for the rebirth of ‘more is more’. After years of pandemic-era minimalism (a nod to all those laid-back sweatpant sets we once called ‘chic’ and ‘nonchalant’), we’ve developed a renewed appetite—for colour, texture, and surprise. But here’s the thing: The queer community never left the altar of maximalism.

For them, dressing loud has never been just about turning heads—it’s about survival, resistance, and unfiltered joy. Long before runways caught on, the queer community was rhinestoning denim jackets, clashing prints with religious fervour, and transforming sidewalks into technicolour spectacles. While the mainstream flirted with normcore and neutral palettes, queer fashion refused to shrink. It expanded—loudly, glitteringly, unapologetically.

Cosmo India spoke to six dazzlingly stylish, queer creatives who prove that maximalism isn’t making a comeback. It never left. It’s a way of life.

Rani KoHEnur, 34, performing artist & human rights activist

Maximalism is life force, insists Rani KoHEnur. “In my life, I think more is more. Nothing is plain, nothing is simple,” she says with the kind of conviction that makes you want to add five accessories to your outfit immediately. On stage and off, Rani is a living, breathing ode to extravagance—temple jewellery dripping from every limb, winged eyeliner that stretches boldly past her brows, and saris so intricate you could get lost in them. “If you see me dressed plainly,” she goes on, “I’m probably having a very bad day, or I just didn’t step out at all.” For Rani, maximalism isn’t just performance—it’s protection; an armour. “I also use it to intimidate negative energy. I bounce it right back with my fantastic, over the top looks.” Her fearless embrace of OTT glamour tells the world to back off. Being called “campy” isn’t an insult...it’s a compliment. “It means they understood the assignment,” she laughs. “Camp is what you make it. My Camp is my own. And if someone doesn’t get it, guess it just wasn’t meant for them.” After 18 years of pushing boundaries in fashion, art, and drag, Rani sees her maximalism as a legacy move. “I pushed the envelope so the next generation can fly even further. And if someone can’t handle it—there’s the door.”

Suunny Pandey, 26, digital creator

Fashion is an act of joyful defiance, and no one lives by it more than Sunny. “I’ve always thought ‘subtle’ was just code for ‘boring’,” he adds. From the moment he realised clothes could be “wearable personality billboards”, there was no looking back. Maximalism, for Sunny, isn’t about excess for excess’ sake, it’s about storytelling. “One day, I’m an eccentric twink at brunch, the next, I’m a pop art explosion. It’s less about matching the vibe and more about matching the mood.” His influences stretch from ’70s disco glam to ’90s street style to old Bollywood drama—and sometimes, “just my midnight existential crises,” he jokes. But underneath the rhinestones and neon, there’s a core purpose: Refusing to shrink. “I grew up realising the world low-key wants you to shrink yourself to fit in, and my outfits are like, ‘Nah, I’ll take up all the space, thanks.’” He looks back at the time he wore a rhinestone-drenched bodysuit to a family event and scandalised his aunt. It wasn’t just a fashion moment—it was a life moment. “I’ve learned the only reaction that matters is the one you have when you look in the mirror.” Maximalism, for Sunny, is permission: To be big and bright, to take up room, and to love it.

Toshada, 26, social entrepreneur & model

Maximalism is about claiming agency in a world obsessed with definitions, Toshada believes. “I like to think of my style as fully customisable character design,” she says. “Some days call for maximalism, others for a relaxed fit—I never ignore my intuition when it comes to self-expression.” While her palette leans towards dark and desi, her spirit is undeniably maximalist—layering textures, stacking jewellery, reinterpreting black basics with a fierce sense of individuality. “Traditional Indian garments taught me texture, structure, ornamentation,” she shares. Her saris? She wears them everywhere—from art shows to errand runs. But her relationship with maximalism is also practical. “A lot of my wardrobe came from model castings where we had to wear black, fitted clothes. I just kept finding ways to make it mine,” she says. For Toshada, maximalism isn’t about louder colours...it’s about louder ownership. Her advice for beginners? “Play with what you own. Try a new style. If it doesn’t work, switch it up. Thrift. Mix prints. Have fun. Style should feel like play, not pressure.”

Agou Hengoulal Sitlhou, 24, content creator

Maximalism is both expression and resistance for Agou. “I’ve always been a maximalist. I love layering, going extra with hair, makeup, accessories—it helps me express emotion and feel powerful,” he says. His work is rooted in storytelling and community. “As someone from the Kuki community in Manipur, there’s so little representation in mainstream media. I use fashion to uplift my culture and show people we exist—boldly, beautifully.” His aesthetic is fluid and fierce, drawing from icons like Lady Gaga and David Bowie. “Fashion goes beyond gender,” he says. “Men look beautiful when they embrace both their feminine and masculine sides.” Every look is a form of defiance. “Maximalism helps me push back against stereotypes. Growing up queer with no roadmap, I turned to creativity to feel seen,” he explains. “There are so many like me from marginalised groups who deserve to feel proud of who they are.” For Agou, maximalism is a tool for shifting perspectives. “My art exists to question and challenge the norms set by society. I create to shift perspectives and make space for the queer community to thrive”, he says. “Going bold with my styling is more than just a creative choice—it’s a statement.”

Saikat Chakraborty, 33, national artist at MAC Cosmetics India

If maximalist fashion is the main serve, maximalist makeup is the cherry on top—and for the queer community, it’s always been second nature. “Bright colours, glitter tears, graphic liner that could cut—honey, that’s just a Tuesday!”, Saikat says. For queer folks, makeup becomes more than beauty—it’s pure joy, resistance, and liberation, painted right onto your (or your muse’s) skin. “It’s not about fitting into a mould, it’s about smashing the mould and painting the pieces in neon.” At its core, queer maximalism is about pushing back against decades of respectability politics that demanded us to be “tasteful”, “subtle”, and “palatable” to earn crumbs of acceptance. In a world that still tries to erase, censor, and normalise queerness, maximalist dressing becomes an act of survival. Maximalism isn’t about looking expensive. It’s about being impossible to ignore. It’s a glitterbomb lobbed directly at conformity. It’s sequins at noon. Velvet at brunch. Mixing prints and textures just because you can. And if life is the stage, queer maximalism is the show-stopping, rhinestone-doused number that’s always sold out.

Shachi Ankolekar, 24, visual designer & tattoo artist

A deeply emotional concept, maximalism, for Shachi, is reclaiming space after feeling boxed in for years. “Growing up as a queer ballet dancer, I saw how queerness was celebrated in men but made complicated for women,” she says. “Ballet is tied to a fragile kind of femininity. It made me feel like I didn’t fit.” Leaving ballet pushed her towards a new stage: Personal style. Inspired by Japanese avant-garde icons like Rei Kawakubo and Junya Watanabe, Shachi sees fashion as fantasy architecture—building shapes around her body, layering textures, bending the structure itself. “I like wearing things the wrong way, inside out, upside down,” she says. “It’s a metaphor. The expected way isn’t the only way.” Colour, architecture, folklore—everything seeps into her aesthetic. “I’m extremely sensitive to light, colour, textures, and it’s helped me shape my visual world,” she explains. Her clothes tell layered stories, just like the tattoos she creates. “Permanent decoration for temporary bodies,” she calls them. For Shachi, maximalism isn’t about extravagance; it’s about remaking the world into something you can finally live inside of.

This article originally appeared in Cosmopolitan India, May-June 2025 print issue.

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