The word "rakish" carries a particular charge. It suggests someone who dresses well but doesn't make a religion of it, who knows the rules of elegance but isn't above breaking a few. It's the kind of word that sounds better with a slight grin behind it. Which makes it the perfect name for a men's magazine that refuses to talk down to its readers.
The Rakish Gent was born from a frustration that many men will recognise. Tajinder Hayer, its founder and editor, had been reading men's magazines for years and found himself increasingly put off by their tone — the laddish posturing, the assumption that male readers needed everything served with a wink or a pint. He wanted something different: a publication that was intelligent but never stuffy, aspirational but grounded in reality. So he built one himself.
Hayer, who goes by Taj, had cut his teeth writing for British GQ, The Guardian, and others before launching The Rakish Gent as an independent digital magazine. What began as an online platform has since grown into something more ambitious — a proper print annual, now seven issues deep, alongside a steady stream of digital content covering fashion, grooming, watches, lifestyle and the arts. The print editions are substantial objects: beautifully photographed, thoughtfully designed, and packed with the kind of long-form interviews and editorials that most men's magazines have quietly abandoned.
The roster of cover subjects tells its own story. David Gandy. Francisco Lachowski. Pietro Boselli. Harry Collett, fresh from House of the Dragon. Mo Gilligan. But what makes The Rakish Gent distinctive isn't celebrity wattage — it's the range of faces and stories behind the glossy shoots. Hayer, who is of South Asian heritage, has made diversity a quiet but non-negotiable principle of the magazine. A recent issue featured Karanjee Singh Gaba, an Afghan refugee turned Louis Vuitton model, alongside a Punjabi music star and a British comedian. It is a magazine that looks like contemporary Britain actually looks.
Beyond the print editions, there are the "Papers" — slimmer, more focused publications that spotlight a single figure or theme — and the online magazine itself, which operates with the pace and polish of a much larger operation. Recent pieces range from a review of the new Leica smartphone to a guide to London's best dining and drinking in March, written with the easy authority of someone who genuinely knows the city. There are fashion editorials shot on location from deserts to rooftops, grooming columns that skip the condescension, and a section called "Maison Rakish" that curates a small, considered selection of homeware and objects.
Taj once said in an interview that ambition matters more to him than talent. It's a revealing comment. He doesn't claim to be the most gifted writer or editor or stylist — his words, not mine — but he has a clear vision and the stubbornness to execute it. That combination has produced something rare in the indie magazine world: a publication that is both genuinely independent and genuinely polished, one that competes visually with the big titles while retaining the freedom to feature whoever and whatever it wants.
The magazine has even spawned its own clothing line, Rakish Gent Sporting Club — varsity sweatshirts, training gear, baseball caps — which feels less like a cash grab than a natural extension of a brand built on a specific idea of how men might want to present themselves: sharp, relaxed, unforced.
In a market where most men's magazines either shout or preen, The Rakish Gent does something more difficult. It speaks at a normal volume, with genuine things to say.
Explore The Rakish Gent at <a href="https://therakishgent.co.uk/" target="\_blank">therakishgent.co.uk