Priya Menon in a blue jamdani sari, photographed in Bandra for Bindee Issue 01
Cover Girl Issue 01 · Spring 2026

Bandra, Mumbai

Priya.

The quiet radical rewriting the sari script

The Story

Priya Menon, in her own words.

For our first issue, we sit with the twenty-six-year-old textile revivalist rethinking what softness looks like on a modern Indian woman.

Why she's our cover girl

Because she wears her contradictions on the outside — Bandra and Palakkad, altar and Spotify Wrapped, a grandmother's sari and a petrol-pump t-shirt — and makes all of it look like the most natural thing in the world. She's not a brand. She's a girl who got dressed.

“I don't want to be styled. I want to be understood. There's a difference, and Indian fashion has been confusing the two for a long time.”

— Priya Menon

The photo essay

Shot in Bandra, Mumbai
Priya Menon — photo essay
Priya Menon — photo essay
Priya Menon — photo essay

In conversation

Ten minutes with Priya.

Q01

What did wearing a sari mean to you at nineteen?

— Costume. It meant costume — someone else's idea of me. It took me until twenty-four to realise a sari is six yards of anything you want it to be.

Q02

Bindee is a magazine for girls who feel between things. Where do you feel between?

— Between my Malayalam and my Marathi. Between my grandmother's altar and my Spotify Wrapped. I think that's the whole point of being twenty-something in India right now.

Q03

One thing you're romanticising this season?

— The three minutes it takes to pin a dupatta. It's meditation if you let it be.

Her festive memory

Onam at her grandmother's house in Palakkad — the specific blue of a kasavu sari after the monsoon, jasmine pinned in without asking, and being told to stop fidgeting while someone older fixed her pleats.

Her everyday ritual

The three minutes it takes to pin a dupatta. "It's meditation if you let it be," she says. She does it every morning, phone face-down.

Three Bindee objects

01

Her grandmother's jamdani sari

Worn to a wedding in 1974, now worn to the chemist.

02

A single gold jhumka

She lost the other one and refuses to replace the pair.

03

A petrol-pump t-shirt

Bought in Alibaug, the least precious thing she owns.

“A sari is six yards of anything you want it to be.”
“Softness is not the same as smallness.”

The Bindee Take

Priya's whole practice is a small argument we happen to agree with: heritage survives by being worn, not archived. The sari that goes to the chemist outlasts the one saved for one wedding album.

Credits

The team behind the cover.

Photography
Aarav Kapoor
Styling
Simran Bedi
Makeup
Nyla D'Souza
Hair
Zoya Sen

Read the full interview

Priya, in Blue

Read the story

The Bindee Letter

Sunday mornings, jasmine tea, one story.