Asia’s Most Stylish 2025: the icons, the rebels, the game-changers

We first fell in love with Rebecca Lim in Mediacorp’s The Pupil—where, dressed in custom CYC shirts and sharp trousers, she portrayed Wendy Lim, a wide‑eyed trainee lawyer who tiptoed into the courtroom and walked straight into our hearts. It was only her third year into acting, but that performance—luminous, layered, quietly devastating—won her the Best Actress in a Leading Role award at the 2010 Asian Television Awards and sealed her place in Singaporean screen history. Since then, she has collected a list of accolades—among them, 16 nods at the Star Awards, and a best actress prize at both the 2020 Asian Academy Creative Awards and the 2023 Asian Television Awards—proving that she is not just a household name, but also a cultural constant; a woman who moves through the region with grace, grit and a gaze that commands the camera.

“My mum was my fashion icon,” she recalls, “always made up with her blue eyeshadow, shoulder‑padded blazers and beautiful brooches.” Lim’s own style is built on this foundation of elegance—white shirts she calls “versatile, classic, classy”; black leather platform loafers always waiting in the boot of her car; and timepieces by Longines, each marking a personal milestone. “Timepieces are a daily reminder to treasure time and to live in the moment,” she says.

Even now—as a mother balancing script, spotlight and son—she still makes time to dress up and show up, because “it’s true what people say: no matter how you feel, always dress up and show up”. And show up she does—radiant, quietly regal, and as arresting in life as she has ever been on screen.

In case you missed it: How V-Zug takes centrestage in Matthew Webster and Rebecca Lim’s gourmet kitchen

After a whirlwind few years juggling acting, medical training and running her skincare label Zyu, junior doctor Zoen Tay is rediscovering her creative core. Currently on sabbatical, she is leaning into her childhood love of acting—recently starring in two feature films and a Chinese drama—while reconnecting with loved ones and herself. The surest sign of this shift is her bleached blonde hair, a bold contrast to her once jet‑black strands.

“In the past, people used to say I was weird,” she says with a laugh, recalling how she wore five‑inch platform boots for school photos at age 11. That same playful irreverence continues to shape her style today, whether it is how she does her hair or her instinct to pair unexpected pieces. “Whenever I put on something different and unusual, I feel like a different version of myself,” she says. She cites Moschino as a favourite brand, admiring its courage to create niche pieces, alongside labels such as Maison Margiela and Balenciaga. But her style is not limited to avant‑garde designs. “I also love pastels and girly things,” she shares. “I alternate, depending on how I’m feeling.”

That duality extends to her business, now undergoing a rebrand reflecting her shift from minimalism to something more expressive. “I want it to grow with me,” she says.

Read more: Zoen Tay’s journey as a doctor, skincare entrepreneur and actress

Social media’s favourite stay‑at‑home daughter with a combined 1.3 million followers and 73.8 million Likes across TikTok and Instagram, Chloe Liem is not just idling at home quietly. The 21‑year‑old with a deadpan humour sharper than her heels might have first gone viral in 2023 with a “day in my life” video that blew up overnight, but behind the “soft life” aesthetic, the business administration student at the National University of Singapore is balancing studying finance, marketing and full‑time content creation with surgical precision. Her fashion origin story? A Louis Vuitton x Murakami Mini Speedy gifted at her one‑month birthday bash. “Marking milestones with timeless pieces is such a special way to celebrate,” she says. Liem’s style is equal parts clever and classic—think baggy jeans, pointed kitten heels and a Chloé logo tee she calls her inside joke. “I feel like not enough people appreciate my humour, but this T‑shirt is like an inside if‑you‑know‑you‑know joke and it entertains me,” she says. She has lived through a mint green vest regret and a dog‑mum merch era, and now invests more in jewellery than fleeting fashion trends. Case in point: she is partial to an off‑shoulder neckline for one very specific reason; so she can show off a necklace, and not just any necklace, but a Van Cleef & Arpels double-wrapped 20-motif Alhambra necklace, the quiet flex of the jewellery world.

And if diamonds are a girl’s best friend, her soulmates are her poodles, Lola Loola and Matilda Jane—the former, she swears, set off the cosmic domino effect that launched her career. Call it puppy love, with impeccable taste.

More than three decades in theatre have cemented Gaurav Kripalani’s place as one of Singapore’s most influential cultural figures. Thinking back on the early days of his time at Singapore Repertory Theatre (SRT), when there were just three staff members, he recalls: “When we first started SRT, there were only three of us. We’d sit in a bar, order martinis and dream up shows.” Today, SRT has its own venue, a full‑time team of 30 and seasons planned three years ahead. Despite the growth, Kripalani remains grounded in what matters most: “If I had to step away tomorrow, what I’d carry with me are the relationships.”

Just as his leadership style has matured with time, so, too, has his approach to personal style. “I’ve always been very conservative in my style,” he shares. “When I first started [in the industry], I used to love wearing ties. I was probably one of the only people in theatre who did that.” Dressing sharply gave him gravitas, especially when pitching to sponsors. “As I got older, my wardrobe choices have become more relaxed,” he admits. “I wear black jeans to work now. Ten years ago, I’d never have done that.” Tailored jackets—some custom, others by Hugo Boss and Armani—remain a staple, but these days, he often teams them with laid‑back pieces and breathable travel basics. “I’m slowly becoming more adventurous at my age,” he says. “I want to have fun with what’s right for my vintage.”

Born into a scholarly Chinese family where intellect was considered the highest form of elegance, Layla Pi grew up surrounded by books, fabrics and conviction. The daughter of a scholar‑entrepreneur recalls an incident where her grandfather, an always impeccably dressed economist, told her, horrified, that “a lady never wears slippers in public” after she arrived at the airport in flip-flops. He bought her a pair of black Ferragamos the next day and the rest, as the saying goes, is fashion history.

Now a private equity investor, entrepreneur and committee member for the National Gallery Singapore’s 10th‑anniversary gala—a role she says is close to her heart—Pi moves with quiet precision between boardrooms and cultural institutions, her style bridging worlds with Dior suits, silk skirts and heels that ground more than just posture. “Style is part of how I align my inner world with the outer one,” she says—and it shows.

Previously based in the US, Pi arrived in Singapore after the birth of her first child, trading Newport Beach for the gentle rhythms of this city‑state, and while it was not love at first sight, she now calls it home. She admires the boldness of Chinese fashion and the considered grace of Singaporean style, and dresses with a blend of both. Her most treasured piece? A contemporary terno, the national dress of the Philippines, worn while hosting a gala at the National Museum of the Philippines—a gown that speaks not of excess but of connection, culture and courage.

Style, to Pi, is not a performance—it is a philosophy. And she wears it like a well‑cut blazer: soft‑spoken, sharply defined.

In case you missed it: What went down at Tatler’s Louis Vuitton ‘Queen Bee Shopping’ afternoon with Layla Pi and friends

We crossed paths with Samuel Xun at the Lady Dior House exhibition in Singapore last year, where he—one of just three Singapore artists tapped by the French fashion institution for its Lady Dior As Seen By showcase—unveiled You Deserve It, his take on the Lady Dior bag. In homage to his past as a costume maker, he reimagined the iconic accessory into something that is part artefact, part love letter, and all attitude. A visual artist with a flair for drama and a past steeped in sewing machines and subversion, Xun treats style not as trend but as testimony—to selfhood, to storytelling, to survival.

His first fashion memory? Alexander McQueen. “He was my first real introduction to fashion … Even though I couldn’t physically access that world, his work shaped my understanding of drama and the importance of a good narrative,” Xun shares. And this is certainly apparent in his style, which is cool meets chic: black Tabi loafers, ear cuffs stacked to celestial heights, and a wardrobe where accessories do the heavy emotional lifting on lazy days. Even his first purchase—a black Loewe Puzzle bag bought with his first pay cheque as a designer—was a moment marked in leather, silver and triumph.

Xun knows that clothes are the first poem you wear into a room—soft armour, sly invitation, subtle defiance. He dresses not to impress but to imprint, to leave a trace of story behind long after the art is taken down. Polo shirts are history, his bags are heirlooms‑in‑waiting, and style—much like his work—is never just for show; it is ritual, revelation and a reminder that beauty, when worn with intent, can speak louder than words.

As folks say, the third time is the charm and working with Velda Tan for the third time only confirms what we already knew: grace, like great style, is effortless when it is real. The first time she stole our hearts was in 2023, at a watch shoot in her new home; she was all poise and quiet power, wrapped in white fabrics and a kind of calm only the truly stylish carry. Her inclusion into the Asia’s Most Stylish fold is not just personal—it is professional: Tan is the business of fashion.

Don’t miss: Velda Tan on her IVF Journey, suffering a miscarriage, and motherhood

Twenty years ago, she co‑founded her first fashion label Bonito Chico (later rebranded in 2010 as Love, Bonito), paving the way for a generation of Southeast Asian women to dress with confidence and clarity. She followed that with Our Second Nature, a poetic study in quiet style, and more recently, Atlas Kind, a love letter to sustainability. Style, she says, is the language of her professional life—and when she speaks, people listen. Her signatures include a crisp white shirt, understated, elegant and effortless all at once, and a Balenciaga Le City bag she bought to mark a career milestone—her way of saying she had arrived. Tan’s style has grown quieter over time, more intentional—never performative, always present. She once wore micro miniskirts, a trend currently making its comeback, but now favours pieces that hold space for all her roles: entrepreneur, mother, woman. One day, she hopes her children will inherit a simple shirt, threadbare with memory—a quiet emblem of resilience, ease and grace.

Anna Du Toit brings the same considered eye to everything she does, be it her style, her private dinner parties or her drawings. Best known for her meticulous ballpoint pen drawings and tactile sculptural installations, she creates work inspired by her surroundings, zooming in on overlooked details and reworking them into surreal meditations on home, identity and care. She applies this same creative philosophy to how she dresses.

“I like clothes that have a lot of shape and structure, but I’m still a utility‑forward person when it comes to what I wear,” she says. “Everything I wear should be suitable for any occasion. I should be able to exist in it.” Her wardrobe is functional yet unexpected—designed to take her from the office in the morning to a dinner or club at night. She favours local and regional labels such as Rye and Anaabu, choosing pieces that are, as she puts it, “well formed”.

Her hair, which has cycled through buzz cuts, bleached phases and deep autumn tones, is also key to her visual identity. As she explains: “Clothes can be easily changed, but you’re forced to change around your bodily modifications. My hair reflects or changes the way I style myself.”

Singer‑songwriter Shazza, whose real name is Shareefa Aminah, is known for her unflinching honesty—whether it is in the genre‑blurring confessions of her sophomore album Happy, Wretched & Terrified, or the way she shows up in a room. “I live out loud,” she declares. “When I walk into a room, I want people to see me and get a glimpse of who I am at the first glance.”

That instinct for self‑expression took root early on. “I was in polytechnic when I started to dress more like myself,” she shares. “The more I explored fashion, the more I found clothes that made me feel like me. I got addicted to that feeling.”

Read more: Singer-songwriter Shazza is igniting Singapore’s music scene—and it’s all thanks to her parents

Today, her style is eclectic, defined by bold pieces. “If I’m going to wear something that doesn’t feel like me, there’s no point,” she asserts. “It’s about how it makes me feel.” As a hijabi in the entertainment industry, that feeling carries weight. “I wear my religion on my head. It’s one of the first things people see,” she notes. “I carry that with pride and care.”

For Shazza, fashion is both a personal sanctuary and a public statement. “I represent multiple communities and I honour that,” she says. Inspired by modestwear fashion creators such as Hodan Yousuf, she embraces style as storytelling and rebellion. “I’m not compromising who I am to fit anymore,” she proclaims

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