OPINION: Right now, South Asian culture is trending. Its people are not.

Remember the "Scandinavian scarf"? 

It came from a now-deleted TikTok from fashion rental brand Bipty, where sheer scarves were draped across shoulders and called "very European," "very effortlessly chic." 

Except ... they weren't Scandi scarves.

Watch: For context, one TikToker has broken down Bipty's "Scandi scarf" moment. Post continues below.

They were dupattas. And a dupatta is no ordinary scrap of fabric. It is six feet of history. 

Worn for centuries across South Asia, the dupatta moves with its wearer through every stage of life: tossed across a bride's shoulder, drawn over a grandmother's head in prayer, caught in the crook of an elbow at a market stall.

It brushes against bangles, carries the scent of incense, and holds the imprint of both rituals and everyday moments.

In South Asian films, lovers chase its trailing edge through mustard fields. 

In my mother's wardrobe, they hang in a spectrum of memory.

Which is why seeing one declared the latest "Scandi-chic" staple felt ... confusing. It is not exactly the staple of a Copenhagen winter.

The comments section was a scrollable delight: certified Scandi girls chiming in with "I'm Scandinavian and I've never seen this," while South Asians gleefully flooded the replies with "I have! I have!"

The video disappeared. The trend, however?

Thriving.

South Asian textiles and techniques are reappearing everywhere, newly tagged and newly detached from their roots.

Enter the latest obsession: the Tory Burch mirror dress.

The dress in question. Image: Tory Burch.

I can't open Instagram without seeing it.

Soft buttery silk, mirrored discs catching the light, it's everywhere: weddings, brand shoots, carousel posts.

It is beautiful, albeit a bit overdone already. You know a trend has reached full saturation when you start counting it at events.

But those mirrors?

That's sheesha embroidery — a centuries-old craft from Gujarat, Rajasthan, and beyond. In some Indian traditions, they were sewn in to ward off the evil eye, dazzling it back on itself. Others believed they would catch and hold good fortune, drawing light into the cloth. Tiny mirrors, once cut from shattered bangles or bottle bottoms, stitched by hand into cotton and silk. 

The work was slow, often done by women gathered in courtyards, trading stories as they embroidered. 

The finished pieces hung in homes, layered into dowries, wrapped around brides, carried across generations.

Today, they gleam across feeds, their story mostly left untold.

Once you start seeing it, you can't stop. 

Take for example, the new Devon Lee Carlson x Reformation collection, which features a two-piece ensemble — a lehenga by another name.

Mango's "boho tunics"? We just call those kurtas at home. And TikTok's latest round of "desi beauty hacks"? That may just be my grandma's Sunday kitchen routine with a lot more views.

The Devon Lee Carlson collaboration features a chic two-piece, otherwise known as a lehenga in South Asian culture. Image: Reformation.

And it is so fun. I love seeing our fabrics and rituals out in the world. I want them shared. I want that excitement.

But keep scrolling, and it turns. 

Fast.

Just as these aesthetics are going global, another side of TikTok is going viral.

Videos like "the one race I wouldn't date," where Indian is the constant punchline. Clips marvelling that attractive South Asians even exist (the 'great shift', as TikTok says), and comment sections on South Asian creators flooded with "smelly" and "dirty" slurs. 

One quick search will show a million like this. Image: TikTok/@periodtgirlll and @rkbadp2dm.

I'm nervous to put my name and face on this very piece, knowing what comes with being too visible, too loud, too brown online.

The data tells the same story. 

A report by the Asian Australian Alliance documented over 500 incidents of racism targeting Australians of East, Southeast, and South Asian descent during the pandemic, spanning verbal abuse, physical intimidation and online harassment. Another national survey found that women in particular bore the brunt of this abuse, with many incidents occurring online. South Asians were amongst those targeted; a reminder that while our cultural markers light up moodboards and runways, our communities still face the very real sting of racism.

We've always known there's a line between cultural appreciation and appropriation. 

So what do you call this?

Cultural admiration with ... selective amnesia? Cultural cherry-picking? 

This isn't about gatekeeping or shaming anyone for loving the look. 

Please wear the dress. Learn the moves. Share the beauty.

Just know that the culture didn't appear in your feed by magic. We've been building it, carrying it, wearing it for centuries.

We've been here. And we deserve to be seen for all our beauty.

Feature: Amazon Prime and Reformation.