When Deepak & Fahad first entered the fas-hion landscape, they didn’t arrive quietly. They came with intention — and a clear sense of aesthetic that instantly set their menswear apart.
Structured and experimental — and always aware of the intersection between traditional South Asian masculinity and contemporary form — the duo quickly became a mainstay on runways and red carpets alike. But nearly a decade and a half later, a curious shift is now underway: the launch of a womenswear line titled HER — and with it, a new definition of ease, wearability, and design integrity.
Where many fashion brands expand for the sake of expansion, Deepak & Fahad have opted instead for a recalibration. HER isn’t about noise or novelty. It’s about asking a simple question: what does a woman want to wear when they’re tired of being dressed up?
This isn’t an abrupt pivot, nor is it a calculated attempt to capture a new market segment. What Deepak & Fahad have done instead is arrive at a thoughtful evolution. One that comes only after time, clarity, and a genuine interest in designing for real life.
At a glance, HER may appear minimal, but behind that simp-licity is a design philosophy rooted in intention. In a sea of overdesigned, overlayered wom-enswear — where embellishment often takes precedence over ease — HER asks a different question: what does it mean to dress without performance?
For the duo, the answer lies in undoing the excess.
“We kept seeing women’s fashion being pushed into this cycle of constant dazzle,” Fahad Yaqoob shares. “Everything had to sparkle, flare, shine, or shimmer. And somewhere along the way, the idea of comfort got lost.”
That sense of design fatigue becomes the very starting point for HER. The brand focuses on clean lines, relaxed tailoring, and a focus on breathable fabrics. It’s far more interested in how clothes feel rather than how loudly they announce themselves.
The idea didn’t come overnight, however. Deepak & Fahad had been approached time and again to create womenswear. Requests came from celebrity stylists and long-time clients who had seen their menswear up close. There were occasional flirtations: capsule looks for friends, styled bridal party com-missions, an odd kurta here, a jumpsuit there. But it was never something they felt the need to pursue until now.
“People assume you can just pivot into womenswear because it’s a bigger market,” Fahad explains. “But honestly, it’s harder. Women are sharper dressers. They notice the cut, the drape, the seam that’s a half-inch off. You can’t fool them with styling.”
The launch collection — a capsule of 25 pieces — is split into three mini-series, each bearing its own distinct identity while staying true to the larger vision of simplicity and ease. There’s Heer, a love letter to traditional craft, where black-and-white Sindhi embroidery forms the visual language of the designs. The silhouettes remain soft and rooted in culture. Think long tunics with delicate mirror work, wide-leg trousers with restrained detailing.
The dupattas that feel like they belong to a woman with both memory and modernity stitched into her wardrobe.
People assume you can just pivot into womenswear because it’s a bigger market. But honestly,
it’s harder. Women are sharper dressers. They notice the cut, the drape, the seam that’s a half-inch off. You can’t fool them with styling.– Deepak and Fahad
Volume 2 of Heer softens the palette even further, introducing faded pinks and cloudy blues through hand-blocked prints. There’s a delicacy to this sub-chapter that doesn’t feel overly feminine — it just feels calm. The kind of pastel that doesn’t shout spring, but rather whispers ease. The cuts are generous and forgiving, made to move as women do, without structure demanding attention.
The second series, which shares its name with the brand itself, explores more expressive ground. There’s a light-hearted irreverence to the prints: over-sized florals, sketches of fruit, and graphic abstractions unfold across boxy cuts and cropped hems. These designs lean urban, styled for movement — the kind of clothes that work just as well at a breakfast meeting as they do on a spontaneous evening out. Fahad notes that this is where they “let loose a little,” choosing to embrace play without sacri-ficing poise. “Women don’t dress for one mood anymore,” he explains. “So why should their clothes?”
But it is in the third and final capsule, Draft, that the brand’s design restraint truly shines. There are no prints here, no motifs, no embellishments. Just solid-colour co-ord sets, ren-dered in neutral tones, with cuts so fluid they adapt to context without fuss. A slightly oversized shirt paired with tailored pants in earthy taupe can shift from a meeting room to a weekend lunch effortlessly — and that versatility, the pair say, was always the point. “We weren’t trying to create momentwear,” they clarify. “We wanted pieces that would just live with you.”
The team worked with an all-women atelier for sampling, a decision that was both logistical and emotional.
“It felt important that women had their hands in this — literally,” Fahad shares. “From the embroiderers to the pattern-makers, we wanted the people wearing these clothes to also be the ones shaping them.”
In fittings, they asked the women working on the pieces to wear the samples — not models, not influencers — to get real feedback on movement, fit, and function.
What ties all three series together, apart from the consistent use of breathable cotton, is the underlying commitment to comfort. There’s a sense of quiet luxury to the collection, not in an aspirational sense. Instead, it lies in how the clothes prioritise how a woman feels in her skin. The garments are structured enough to flatter but never restrictive. There are no cinched waists or aggressive necklines. Instead, the brand embraces a relaxed form that still reads as intentional. It’s fashion without the pageantry, and that, in the current moment, feels like a radical gesture.
The brand’s manifesto, too, reads more like a conversation than a declaration, and that in itself is telling. “We’re not here to break the wheel — and we’re definitely not reinventing it,” it states plainly. “The wheel’s doing just fine. We’re just adding something to it: value, intention, and a sense of ease.”
It’s also worth noting that HER doesn’t seem to be chasing trends. Instead, the palettes are restrained, the silhouettes are classic, and the pieces feel unburdened by seasonal edits.
This, fortunately, is neither
an ode to fast fashion, nor aspirational couture. It lives somewhere in between — a middle ground that has often been overlooked in Pakistani womenswear — especially by designers known more for their flair than their function. And yet, Deepak & Fahad manage to make that space feel not only viable but desirable.
The timing of HER is significant too. It arrives at a moment when the fatigue around overdesigned clothes is being quietly, but firmly, felt.
The past few years have seen an oversaturation of bridal showcases, lawn campaigns, and influencer-led styling. The result is often a blurred line between fashion and performance art. HER steps back from that. It doesn’t try to impress, it simply offers ease. And in doing so, it puts the power back into the hands of the wearer.
That kind of design philoso-phy clearly doesn’t come from trend forecasting, but rather from maturity. And in many ways, HER feels like the result of Deepak & Fahad entering their own creative prime. Their brand was built on a foundation of tailoring, fabric experimentation, and craftsmanship. Now, they carry an intuitive understanding of balance — how to pare back without flattening a garment, how to gesture toward beauty without indulging in excess.
It’s evident that HER has plans to evolve. More silhouettes. Natural dyes. A closer look at seasonless dressing. But for now, the brand is content introducing its new identity slowly — letting the clothes speak, breathe, and find their way into wardrobes without the usual fanfare. There’s an honesty to that approach. In a space where everything often feels urgent, HER offers a different message.
It’s a reminder that fashion can still be thoughtful, lived-in, and most of all, real.
Because sometimes, as they say, the most powerful thing a woman can wear is ease.