Meet Misha Sattar: The genius behind queer pop sensation Chappell Roan
Chappell Roan's BFF and creative director gives us the inside scoop on working with everyone's favorite new pop star
Misha Sattar combines her South Asian and American roots to create her unique and inspired world.
Lucy London McDonald
Words by Malavika Kannan
I feel like I’ve known Misha Sattar forever, even before she steals those exact words from my mouth. Known publicly as pop star Chappell Roan’s best friend and creative director, Sattar is the collaborative mind behind the biggest queer pop phenomenon in the United States. (“She’s just as much Chappell Roan as I am,” the pop star has said about Sattar.) Sattar is also curious and imaginative in combining her South Asian and American roots to build a world that is hers.
Sattar’s world is exuberant, dreamy, and deeply unserious, but also has a strong moral core, offering refuge for queer fans who are increasingly under attack. Her inspiration comes from drag queens who know how to laugh loud and raise hell, as well as Bollywood heroines who have navigated the patriarchy to achieve star power—both soft and strong. Despite her success, Sattar’s love remains with her craft, calling it “living in the moodboard.” It’s more than just a mindset. It’s literal, as while we chat, she’s sitting in her craft room in her family’s Texas home, which looks like the inside of her brain, spilling with posters, magazines, and art supplies. Her mom is prone to interrupting her Zoom calls with gifts of cut fruit. (“They don’t comprehend that I’m working. It looks like I’m playing,” Sattar jokes.)
Misha Sattar is a rising inspiration for queer, Desi women everywhere.
Lucy London McDonald
Throughout conversation, we use the words “fun,” and “love,” in every other sentence, and I can’t stop smiling. There is so much that feels uncharted, or existential, about making queer art right now—but there’s also so much fun to be had, so much love to be made, and I want to live in Sattar’s world.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Malavika Kannan: We’re both from red states with really grim headlines, and yet our artistry was nurtured there. What was it like to come into yourself artistically as a brown girl down South?
Misha Sattar: I found a lot of connection through the Internet and spaces like Instagram, Tumblr, and We Heart It. The Internet is how I was creative throughout it all. I think Florida and Texas are so similar! Luckily Dallas is super, super Desi. My college had so many brown people, but growing up in Nebraska, I feel like if I didn't have the Internet and crafting, I don't know if I would have been as creative as I am today.
MK: I love that regional girlies are having huge artistic moments. Florida, we have Doechii. You guys in Texas have had Beyonce, and now we have Chappell Roan. It’s been so cool to see the ingenuity and artistic production coming from the South. Are there particular parts of regional American culture that inspire you?
MS: I love the music. I love the graphic design, the fonts, the architecture of old Western buildings, also fashion—I love all the details on Western clothing. It sometimes feels very similar to Desi clothing, like how intricate the embroidery and everything is. I reference a lot of Western stuff in all my work.
MK: My friends and I often joke that the two worst things you can do to your Desi parents is be gay and an artist. And yet here we are making gay art. What is that like for you?
MS: My parents don't work in creative fields, but they've always nurtured creativity. I was always going to art class and being creative as a kid, and then eventually, when I graduated, I got a job in design. There was never a moment where I was like, “I'm gonna tell them I'm gonna do art.” I've always known that. I even found my old notebooks from kindergarten. It said, “When I grow up, I want to be an artist.” And I drew a picture of a painter. I think it would have shocked my parents more if I was like, “I think I'm doing pre-med.”
MK: That's so funny. You didn't have to “come out” as an artist. Do you have other crafters in your family who you look up to?
MS: I learned how to sew when I was in elementary school from my mom. But this December, I went to Kachchh, where my grandparents are from in India, and I did an art retreat where I learned all the local crafts my ancestors could make. Artisanship is something that gets lost when our families emigrate. I reference these (Desi) textiles all the time because I grew up around them, but I never knew how they were made. (In Kachchh) I did a lot of block printing and embroidery classes, which is something I grew up surrounded by—the pillows in our house are from there. It was so fun to actually meet the people behind them.
MK: Something I love about your work is how much permission it gives me to tap into what is queer and joyful about my two cultures that I have traditionally viewed as separate. You have such a recognizable voice. How did you arrive at your current voice?
MS: It's just combining different things that you like, that you wouldn't expect, and seeing how they mesh together. Doing riso prints was fun to find colors that resonated with me, because you have to be so intentional about color theory. Playing with photo work has been really fun because it's cool to see what you can source. For example, when I watch Bollywood movies, I am constantly like, “I need to rewind that and pull that screen grab!” But I think it all comes down to the colors and the mood. I want my art to be happy and silly, to feel like a little dream land that you can escape into. My art is just not that deep. It's very unserious, and I think it's so fun.
MK: That doesn’t feel fully true to me—that your work is not that deep—because of whose voice you center. We’re obviously in a different era than when Chappell blew up—queer and trans people are increasingly under attack. I’m curious if you’ve felt this reflected in your art.
MS: I think my art is a reaction to that. It's like, “Okay, the world is so crazy, and so much is happening, but I just want to spark joy and creativity, and be a little place to escape from that—and also encourage people to be creative.” Because I think so much of processing the crazy stuff that's always happening in the world is sometimes just picking up a pencil, whether you're journaling or writing something down, or just sketching out how you feel. Not a lot of people have that outlet.
Chappell Roan has credited Sattar as being just as responsible for her brand as she is.
Lucy London McDonald
MK: What is it like to be a collaborator with Chappell?
MS: Kayleigh (Roan) has such a strong vision for all the art. So when we get together, we just bounce off of each other's ideas, and we'll end up with things that are really silly and fun, and also really detailed and intricate. I always knew this project was going to blow up. I never doubted that this is gonna be everything, because she’s incredible, there’s no way it won’t be. A lot of it is just us crafting and being silly, and then someone will say, “We should put that on a t-shirt.” But the other half is, we have a big event coming up, and we get to put on a spectacle. What will it be? Kayleigh is so creative and the visuals and campiness are such a big part of the project. The visuals and music go hand-in-hand.
MK: I love that word “spectacle” because Chappell Roan is a whole aesthetic. An unapologetically queer world that exists on the mainstage, but also really knows its core audience. What is it like creating for queer Gen Z?
MS: One day I just looked around, and my room was crazy messy. My art is like the inside of my brain. So, the things I am consuming and loving just accidentally end up in my art. And I think that’s what all art is about: You are constantly referencing something, even if you don't know you are. There’s no thought that is original. Everything has been done before, so just reimagining and combining things is so fun. It’s like when you were asking me how to find what’s common between South Asian and Western art—it’s just a happy accident, it reappears in its own way.
MK: We’re living in a time where a lot of people feel oversaturated by the Internet and tired of their screens. As a digital creator, do you co-exist in the online and physical world?
MS: The Internet is a great tool to find resources you’re looking for, but you don’t ever want to create an entire moodboard based on stuff curated by an algorithm. It’s making sure you’re keeping your ideas sharp, going to bookstores, reading books, looking at old magazines, going on weird corners of the Internet. When I was in India, I found this guy who has archived all the old Bollywood magazines and movie posters in a warehouse. I got his number, Whatsapp called him, and said, “I have to look at your magazines.” I got to sort through his archives, some of the last copies of certain things, which I would never find on the Internet. My friend and I went, sat on the floor, and flipped through 500 magazines. I thought I needed to be in that warehouse for a week.
MK: What’s on your personal moodboard in 2025?
MS: I love the font Roboto Mono. I love polka dots, bad drawings, fun frames, old infomercials and postcards, the Victorian hair wreaths, doilies, Polaroids, gingham is so fun, and sparkly gel pens.
MK: If you could be a guest creative director for any artist past or present, who would it be?
MS: Oh my God, Spice Girls. That’s where my username is from—if I was a Spice Girl, I’d be Misha Spice! There’s nothing more fun than pop music.
MK: If you were stuck on an island with only three art supplies, which would you bring?
MS: A glitter gel pen: the silver Pentel SparklePop. A cute stamp, maybe a strawberry. And an ink pen.
MK: What’s on your book and playlist rotation right now?
MS: The Secret Life of Color. The Art of Memory Collecting by my friend Martina Calvi. There’s one season every year where I remember and love “Bangerz” by Miley Cyrus. And everything by Britney (Spears).
Published on April 23, 2025
Words by Malavika Kannan
Malavika Kannan (she/her) is a Gen Z Tamil American writer. Her debut literary novel, UNPRECEDENTED TIMES, about queer coming-of-age during the pandemic, will be published by Henry Holt in 2026, and her writing about culture and identity also appears in the The Washington Post, The Emancipator, Teen Vogue, and more. You can find her on Instagram, TikTok, and her website.