Get to Know: Offcuts by Sanah

An exclusive interview in conversation with: the founder of Offcuts by Sanah, the first winner of The Sanxtuary Spotlight 10K Giveaway.

For Sanah, clothing has always been a way of creating worlds. After studying costume production and working backstage in the West End, they founded Offcuts by Sanah (@offcutsbysanah) in 2024, transforming discarded garments and materials into colourful ravewear, queer fashion and what she calls “soft kinkwear.” As the first winner of Sanxtuary’s 10K giveaway, Sanah speaks to us about finding belonging in queer nightlife, building sustainability into every stage of their practice, and creating clothes that make space for softness, freedom and unapologetic self-expression.

Firstly, could you tell me a little bit about the brand? Why did you choose to start it? Was there something missing from the market that you wanted to fill?

I have been making clothes for years. I decided that I wanted to become a fashion designer at seven years old, which is the most Capricorn thing I could ever do. I studied Costume Production at drama school to build the skills needed to create for stage and screen, with the eventual goal of designing costumes.

Since graduating, I have spent my time working backstage on musicals in the West End, which has been so much fun, but I missed using all the skills I had developed at university to create things that I genuinely loved. I started making commissions for friends who were attending various awards shows and queer events, and they gave me so much freedom to simply create. Sustainable values have always formed the basis of my practice, so I was happy to make pieces as long as I was able to stay true to them. From there, the demand continued to grow. Everyone seemed to recognise a style they loved, something unique that could not be replicated.

As much as I enjoyed that era of commissions, after a while, I started craving the opportunity to design again. At the time, shifting from made-to-order pieces to ready-to-wear felt like such a risky move, but I wanted to create a world of “Sanah” that was fun, bright and good for the environment, and share it with my community.

The issue was not necessarily that something was missing from the market. In fact, I was afraid of the opposite: that I was entering an oversaturated market and would not have a place within it. However, I have been incredibly lucky to find a community and fulfil a style and ethos that people were searching for.

You emphasise that you are a queer and sex-positive brand. Why was it so important for you to highlight this?

Queer and sex-positive spaces are pretty much my origin. I have been going to those spaces for years and making fun, sexy outfits to wear in them. It was a community that welcomed me with open arms and gave me my first real sense of belonging within nightlife.

I grew up clubbing and going on nights out in straight, white spaces, so seeing another side of nightlife made me realise that I did not hate going out. I simply had not found my music or my people yet. Eventually, I started making pieces for people to wear in clubs. Alongside the commissions I was already creating, it felt like a natural progression towards what my brand is today.

I never want to forget the community that welcomed me so wholeheartedly. I want to remember the people and spaces I began creating for and continue to create for. It is almost my way of giving back.

Another integral part of your design practice is sustainability. Has it ever been a struggle to maintain this?

Sustainability has always been such a significant part of my practice. Even as a child, I would get so upset about throwing things away. It created a sense of guilt that I could never shake. Once I began learning about fashion waste, I knew that I could not contribute to it.

For the most part, maintaining my sustainable values has been really easy. I am incredibly lucky to be surrounded by people who sew and who allow me to go through bags of clothing when musicals finish so that I can take pieces away and upcycle them. People also give me haberdashery supplies that their mums or grandmothers have collected for years because they know I will find a use for them.

It only becomes a struggle when the demand for my work is greater than the amount of time I can dedicate to sourcing materials. I have had to learn when to say no or step back from markets and commissions because of it. In some ways, that is positive because I understand how much I can realistically create with the materials I have or can source. However, it can sometimes hold me back from opportunities, which, as a very small business, is difficult to admit.

How important has the queer community been in building and maintaining your brand?

Oh my God, it has been so incredibly important. I only ever sell at events in queer spaces, and I treasure the community more than they will ever know. I feel so seen when queer people come to my stall and completely fall in love with this beautiful world that I have had the opportunity to create.

I love meeting someone and thinking, “I know exactly what you will like. I know exactly what will make you feel seen in the same way that I have.” I think it is one of the only spaces where I have ever felt fully accepted as a fat femme of colour with this fun, expressive fashion style.

I hope that people within the community can see that I exist as I am, that my brand exists as it is, and that they can too.

A lot of your designs feature colour and maximalism. Was this intentional, or did it become a natural theme within the brand?

It has definitely been a natural theme. I love overlapping textures, patterns and colours. I am constantly looking at things and thinking, “Something is missing.” I have an ability to fit together elements that might initially look like a lot but ultimately work really well together.

I have leaned into this much more over the past few months, specifically because I have also been embracing my own personal style again after coming out of a slump in my life. That has naturally been reflected in the things I make. Somehow, everything feels more “me.”

I used to dress in a very hyper-feminine way, and I feel as though I am beginning to reconnect with that. I am very much enjoying it.

You describe the brand as “soft kinkwear”. Could you explain what this means in your own words and how it inspires your creativity?

I used to feel so embarrassed about using the term “soft kinkwear”. It is not a widely used term, and because people do not always understand it, it can easily be dismissed.

I used to make many of my own outfits for sex parties. I loved wearing harnesses and latex, but I wanted to create more outfits without overconsuming. I began experimenting with denim and curtain rings to create a denim harness. The material made it appear softer than the harnesses I had previously worn, while the bright blue denim felt less harsh than traditional kinkwear.

I never felt that leather, latex or conventional kinkwear reflected the way I existed within kink and fetish spaces. I am playful, colourful and soft, and I wanted my fashion to represent that.

I think it is important to create space for softness within these environments and demonstrate that hyper-feminine styles also belong within the scene. It shows that tenderness can coexist with agency. In this context, softness becomes a visual language of chosen identity and embodied knowledge, rather than simply providing shock value among the hardness that already exists.

I hope people understand that this softness does not dilute kink fashion. Instead, it expands it.

What is one thing you want people to take away from your brand?

I hope people find freedom in my brand: the freedom to discover their style while knowing that everything they acquire from me has been given a second life.

Finally, what does Sanxtuary mean to you?

For me, Sanxtuary is an extension of how I feel within the queer community: it represents a sense of belonging. Seeing BIPOC people placed front and centre within fashion is unbelievably important. It reminds me that fashion is not, and does not have to be, white-centric.

It is also a feeling that I can share with other people, a space I can show them and say, “Here is somewhere that looks like us and exists for us.”