When it came time to title his forthcoming memoir, the Nepalese American fashion designer Prabal Gurung drew from an unusual source: childhood bullies. He was inspired, he told Vanity Fair, by “the words that were hurled at me” at his all-boys school in Nepal. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with me; I was an effeminate kid,” he says. “It became my mantra.”
Walk Like a Girl, which Viking will publish in May, traces the designer’s life from his upbringing in Kathmandu through his move to New York, and on to the founding of his namesake label, which counts Kamala Harris, Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Kate Middleton, and many others among its fans.
To reveal the cover for Walk Like a Girl, Gurung spoke to VF about moving from the runway to the page, and capturing his own personal American dream.
Vanity Fair: What does the phrase “walk like a girl” mean to you now?
Prabal Gurung: It is, personally, everything that I stand for. Even before I understood the word patriarchy or matriarchy, I was surrounded by female power and energy. To grow up in a household where there was such strong female energy, and then to walk into a world where that was something to be ashamed of—for women to have ambition was almost looked down upon—it was such a shock.
Everything that we talk about right now is a heart-led conversation. Growing up it was all about ruthless ambition, success at any cost. There was such a celebration of characters, like in American Psycho. What was entertaining was how campy and ridiculous it was. I just felt like, wait a second, look at the state of the world, at these dogmatic dictators that we have—not just in the political forum, but also in our real lives. I know for a fact—we all know for a fact—what happens when you have a patriarchy versus matriarchy. What is happening in American politics right now is a perfect looming example.
How did you decide on this cover?
We’re positioning this as a literary memoir, rather than as a celebrity memoir. It was important for me. We talked about having no picture of me. But at the end of the day, what was really important was that this book reach many people, for various reasons. I realized someone who looks like me, which is not necessarily always on the cover of a book or a magazine—I thought it was important not to shrink in this particular moment.
My nephew Arhant is a photographer who studied at Bard College, and then he moved to Nepal. He came out when he was 13 years old. He took the photo when I was back home in Nepal last year in my mom’s apartment, near her balcony and the natural light. I felt completely myself.
Your mother is central to the memoir. You dedicated your 2019 monograph to her as well, writing that she always made sure that you had the correct shade of lipstick. Is there a specific story behind that dedication?
I don’t want to cry, but recently I had a conversation when I was back in Nepal and I said to her, “You are in Nepal. What made you—at the risk of getting yourself into trouble— allow me to wear makeup if I wanted? To wear heels or dresses and everything?” And she said to me, “I would be rearranging your sister’s dresses and I would see the look on your face. So I would always say, do you like it?” And I would just apparently nod. And then she said, “Do you want to try that?” And I would nod vigorously. She was like, “as a mother, I don’t think about anything else except for your joy.”
You’ve explored very personal experiences through your designs. Your fall 2024 collection, you’ve said, was an ode to your father. How did the experience of writing the memoir compare to that? Was it more exposing?
Absolutely, yes. With fashion and what I do, I talk about politics. I talk about my conflicted, fraught relationship with my father—I understood his plight, also. But at the same time, I am safe, surrounded by the swathes of fabrics and models and the runway.
