Across New York’s sidewalks and tucked-away alleys, young Muslim women glide on skateboards, chat in leafy parks, and pose for rooftop selfies with the skyline behind them. Draped in patterned hijabs styled in creative twists and buns, they became the face of a growing subculture in the early 2010s, presenting a new kind of cool rooted in individuality and a distinctly Muslim aesthetic.
In crafting their own visual language of ‘cool’, which was bold, colorful, and unapologetically different, these women turned New York’s streets into their fashion runway. It became a space to showcase a self-made subculture, one that redefined what it means to be young, Muslim, and feminine in today’s world.
Long before fashion was created in ateliers or polished for glossy magazine spreads, passing through layers of edits and approvals, it had just one birthplace: the streets. It was unfiltered, spontaneous, and deeply rooted in community and culture. From Tokyo to London, youth subcultures used fashion as a form of expression and defiance.
It was their way of staring back at a world that constantly watched and judged them, using street style as a mirror, a challenge, and a declaration of identity.
In Egypt, youth subcultures are often associated with rap music and street art, but fashion remains a less explored avenue for expressing cultural identity beyond the mainstream. Young creatives like 23-year-old Syrian photographer Osama Attar, based in Cairo, are helping shift that narrative.
His photography series Eternal Youth (2021) stands out for its colorful and high-energy portraits of Egyptian youth on Korba Street (located in Cairo’s Heliopolis area), capturing a new visual language of self-expression. His inspiration moodboard pulled from global icons, like renowned British photographer Elaine Constantine, celebrated for her colorful, upbeat portraits of young women, and Japan’s FRUiTS magazine, the cult street style publication founded by photographer Shoichi Aoki.
Yet beyond these international references, his truest inspiration came from closer to home: the streets of Egypt and his immediate surroundings. “Each time I roam around this city, my soul is fueled by the energy and light it carries. I often catch myself people-watching, noticing how each person behaves, talks, and walks,” he tells Egyptian Streets.
In a conversation with Egyptian Streets below, Attar uncovers the vision behind his photography project and the creative journey that brought it to life.
Can you tell me more about how you ventured into fashion photography?
It all really started with photographing my friends. That’s what got me into it. I’ve loved photography since I was younger. I even had a YouTube channel at one point. I was always into media, into making things, creating and documenting whatever was around me.
I used to shoot my friends a lot, but I never just photographed them randomly. I always had a certain vision, something I was feeling or something they were expressing. Even though it wasn’t structured fashion photography back then, there was always an intention behind the mood and aesthetic.
Then came this one project, one of the first where I had complete creative input. That’s actually when I discovered I was good at styling, which surprised me. Before that, I didn’t really have a defined concept of what fashion photography was. But with that project, my vision was very clear: I wanted to capture youth.
At the time, I was 19. It was such an intense and beautiful age, so much was happening, so much growth, and so many emotions under the surface. I felt like I needed to document that energy.
So was that your first project where you directed everything yourself?
Yes, exactly. Before that, I’d done smaller things, like shooting an ad campaign for a brand my friend owned, or more casual shoots. But this was the first time I brought people together and said, “Okay, here’s the idea, here’s the vibe, let’s make it happen.” And we did.
It was honestly one of the most spontaneous shoots I’ve ever done, nothing was planned. No set locations, no fixed looks. I just gathered a group of people and said, “Let’s see what happens.” We went to my friend Zeina’s house and raided her closet, mixing and matching pieces until outfits just started to form. The styling came together in the moment, really.
I still remember one of the girls who was supposed to model didn’t show up on the day. So I called a close friend of mine, Susana. I told her, “I need you to come right now, and bring these pants and that top from your closet.” She showed up and ended up being perfect for the shoot.
Honestly, the whole thing felt like organized chaos. At some point, I remember thinking we looked like a circus. Somehow, it all worked. It was wild, but also really beautiful because it was so raw and real.
You mentioned that the shoot was meant to reflect your life at the time. Can you walk me through what it actually felt like to be 19 and living in Egypt?
So I actually grew up here, but I’m originally Syrian. I came to Egypt in 2013. I was just seven years old at the time. We left during the war, not after it. It was supposed to be temporary, just for school, but we ended up staying much longer than we expected.
I remember feeling disconnected. I didn’t have extended family around, I didn’t understand the language very well, and school felt totally foreign. I was honestly pretty lonesome in those early years. There was this constant feeling of, I want to go back to Syria, because I had such beautiful memories from there.
But things started to shift when I turned 16 or 17. That’s when I really began exploring Egypt, seeing it with fresh eyes. I started noticing the beauty and chaos and magic of Cairo, such as the little details, the people, the stories.
And because I had come from such a different background, I think I saw Egypt differently than someone who had lived here all their life. That perspective gave me something unique.
And how did that feed into your creative work?
I had so much energy inside me, years of it just bottled up, and I needed a way to let it out. So I started connecting with people who were like me. People into art, people who dressed how they felt, people who didn’t care about fitting into social expectations. We kind of formed our own little circle, almost like a cult, in the best way.
When I was 19, just out of high school, with no clue what was coming next, that energy was everything. It was about being a bit of a rebel, living in the moment, acting on instinct without overthinking. That’s exactly what I wanted to capture with the shoot; the rawness, the freedom, the messiness of being young and uncertain, but also alive and full of spirit.
Were you inspired by any Arab cultural references for this shoot?
Yeah, definitely. One film that really stuck with me was Banat West El Balad (2005). I was honestly so inspired by the girls in that movie; their energy, their freedom, how outgoing and unfiltered they were. There was something so bold and authentic about them. That film captured a side of Arab, and especially Egyptian, femininity that I rarely see reflected today.
Back then, in those films, you would see girls dressing freely and existing in public space without hesitation. That really stayed with me. Because today, it’s honestly not that common to see girls dressing like that in public, especially in areas like Korba, where I shot the project.
Why did you choose Korba street specifically?
I live in Heliopolis, and I grew up hanging out in Korba, so it’s a place that means a lot to me. I’ve seen firsthand how judgmental people can be when women express themselves through fashion. But at the same time, I also grew up around these amazing girls –my friends– who dressed exactly how they felt and didn’t care what anyone thought.
Those memories are so vivid for me. We’d always dress up, meet in different spots across the city, and just exist freely. So, I wanted the shoot to celebrate that spirit, to challenge the stereotype and reclaim the right to take up space without apology.
Were you initially nervous that the shoot wouldn’t work out, especially since it was done in public streets?
I was super nervous right before we stepped outside. I remember everyone had just finished getting ready and they all walked out, and I just looked at them thinking, “This is ridiculous. What am I doing?”
I think it was just the reality hitting me. Like, we were about to walk into Korba, which is a pretty heavily surveilled area. And, to be honest, just the idea of us showing up there dressed the way we were, to do this kind of shoot. I was genuinely scared something would happen.
But weirdly enough, it worked. No one said a word to us. Not a single person bothered us, which still surprises me. The second we stepped into the street and I pulled my camera out of my bag, all the fear disappeared. It was like something clicked. I just started directing everyone, telling them where to go, what to do. I didn’t have any of the actual shots done beforehand, but I had images in my head: girls walking, girls standing, those kinds of scenes.
No one stopped us, no one told us to leave. It felt surreal.
Is there a specific context or story behind each photo in the series?
One of the photos was taken while the girls were getting ready, and I really wanted to capture that kind of behind-the-scenes energy, such as the intimate moments, the messiness, the chaos, and the excitement. There’s actually one shot where you can see one of the guys kind of peeking into the room while they’re getting dressed, and I loved how that added to the feeling of spontaneity and reality. It wasn’t staged, it just happened.
In another photo, for instance, a girl is playing with jewellery, and it’s meant to reflect that childhood moment when, especially as a girl, you look at jewellery or fashion and think it’s kind of off-limits. Like, “That’s too grown for me,” or, “I’m too young to wear that,” even though deep down, it’s what you deserve and desire. I wanted to tap into that tension; the line between girlhood and womanhood, between aspiration and access.
Ultimately, the whole shoot was about showing women being dynamic, messy, playful, and real. I didn’t want it to feel polished or posed. I wanted it to reflect all the moments in between, the ones that are usually invisible.
Does this shoot mean something different from the kind of work you do now as a professional photographer?
Absolutely. I really do. That shoot holds a special place for me, even after everything I’ve worked on since. Back then, I was in a completely different state, creatively and emotionally. I had no real outside pressure, no clients to please. The influences I was drawing from were super pure. It was all intuition and instinct.
Now that I work professionally as a photographer, there’s naturally more of a commercial lens involved. You can’t help it. You start thinking about what would appeal to consumers, what would “look nice” in a portfolio or on a campaign, not just what feels right to you.
So what makes that particular shoot stand out in hindsight?
It was so raw. So unfiltered. Everything that came out of it felt organic. There was no moodboard, no shot list, no pitch deck. Nothing was packaged. Now, of course, when you’re working with brands or on campaigns, there’s a whole process, you need to have a concept deck, a full moodboard, a presentation, sometimes even a shot-by-shot breakdown.
But back then, none of that existed. People just trusted me, trusted the vibe. And that freedom, that kind of trust, it’s rare. So yeah, this shoot was something else. It was just… honest.
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