Lindsay Peoples doesn't care about fame. She's just here to do work that stands the test of time.

Clearly, Peoples has an impressive résumé. But it's what she's done with each job title that really shows her lasting impact.

She sparked a groundbreaking conversation about race and fashion in 2018 with her investigative feature, "Everywhere and Nowhere: What it's really like to be Black and work in fashion," where she interviewed 100 people in the industry about their experiences. She introduced herself as the new editor in chief of The Cut by publishing an interview with the mother and sister of Breonna Taylor, a Black woman who was killed by police in her home in March 2020. She turned Teen Vogue into an educational tool and resource for young voters. And she was the first to sit down and speak with legendary stylist Law Roach when he announced his retirement in March.

Peoples has worked her way up from a fashion-closet intern to a two-time editor in chief, taking the industry to new heights along the way. In a conversation with Insider for our ongoing series, Black Ensemble: Fashion for the Culture, she reflected on her journey and how she uses her platform to elevate aspiring fashion leaders.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

I want to start by talking about your piece "Everywhere and Nowhere." It's clear that you've given a lot of support to the people around you. Is that a conscious effort that you make?

It's 100% a conscious effort that I'm making. I often think about the fact that I never thought that I would be an editor in chief. When I moved to New York, coming from the Midwest, everything felt really far in a sense that no matter how hard I worked, there were some things that were going to be up to chance.

Once I got the opportunity to have a platform, to have some sense of responsibility, to have some power to use in the industry, I was like, "I have to use this to help other people because I didn't even think it was possible for me."

Did you have to fight to get "Everywhere and Nowhere" published in 2018?

I actually had the idea for the piece when I first started at The Cut [as a fashion market assistant in 2015]. But I was really junior, I was hungry, and, in hindsight, I don't think the piece would have had this same kind of impression that it did in the industry because there weren't enough people willing to talk yet.

I had been at The Cut for a few years, and I remember they were planning the fashion issue and an editor came up to me and said, "Hey, I remember you made this big chart about different Black fashion editors and editors in the industry. Where is that?" The chart was extremely outdated by that time, but I did still have it. It was something that I started to organize, and I wrote down in an excel sheet hundreds of different Black people in the industry that I wanted to interview, and I just started talking to people.

Do you remember what it felt like to watch that go live?

No, because I wasn't here. When I was writing "Everywhere and Nowhere," it was hard for me to see the forest through the trees. There were a lot of people who were like, "You're going to get blacklisted. You shouldn't be writing this kind of piece, it makes us look bad."

So by the time "Everywhere and Nowhere" actually came out, I was terrified, and I went to Mexico. I don't even take that many vacations, but I took one because I didn't want to be in the same time zone when it came out.

I felt very at peace, though, which is how I knew that I was doing the right thing. I was terrified, but also aware that if this was the last thing that I did and that if I had to go back to waitressing and go back to changing store displays, that was good enough for me because I really believed in the piece.

A couple of people quoted in the piece said that they came up in fashion during a time when "you had to be the right kind of Black." Do you think that's still true today?

I think it's still true today. There are still stereotypes and lanes that people want to be accepting of inclusivity. But we're all going to fight it in different ways. I see it as doing what is necessary and what I feel like I'm equipped to do. I don't think that has to be everyone else's task.

I talk a lot to Mama B, Bethann Hardison, about this because she always says that I'm a firecracker, which I don't know if I agree with, and she's always pushing me to have engaging conversations that are moving things forward in the industry.

You worked with Sandrine Charles to create the Black in Fashion Council. Can you talk about the impact it has had?

I love our showroom that we do with IMG every February and September. It's a free showroom for Black designers to showcase their work. We do it at Spring Studios, so it's where fashion editors already are. They can meet the designers, they can call in those brands, shoot those brands for their magazines. We have editors, stylists, buyers, etc. come.

Things like that take work on our end, but it's connecting all of these people we know and creating a resource and support for other Black people in the industry.

We started to do a lot more fellowship meetings for younger people in fashion so that they could ask questions in a less formal way. We want to be of service, and I want there to be a pipeline of younger people of color in the industry.

You've said that being "unapologetically Black" while working in fashion has aged you. Is that experience something you feel grateful for, or is that something you don't want others coming up in the industry to experience?

A little bit of both. I'm super grateful for the journey. I feel really grateful, especially in this season because coming back to The Cut was a dream that I never even had. At this stage in my life, being in my 30s and knowing who I am, I think I can appreciate it a lot more than I would have if it would have happened in my 20s.

I remember so much of when I was working a lot of jobs and trying to get my footing. I was just looking for the bare minimum of, "I need to be able to pay my bills, and I want to make great work." That itself aged me because it wasn't just a season of my life — that was years and years.

Fashion and media in general, the kind of storytelling that we do is so incredible and innovative, and I think that it shouldn't be something that's such a labor of, "Can I endure this?" for Black people in the industry.

What did that feel like for you to become editor in chief of Teen Vogue at 28?

I was really excited because that was my third time at Teen Vogue since I had interned there, and I had worked there out of school, so I had a lot of history with the brand.

It was daunting, but at the same time, surreal. I felt like, "This is a brand for upper-class white girls who have trust funds." Running that publication and realizing that I had the platform to make it really inclusive, cool, and modern in a way that makes people realize that you can love fashion, but also care about the world, politics, abortion rights, and other things and it not be so monolithic was exciting to me.

What went into your decision to go back to The Cut?

I'm a huge Toni Morrison fan, and I remember I was listening to one of her talks where she was challenging someone on the other end saying, "Who are you without racism?" And I remember thinking, "I want to spend time — before I get in my 40s — in a place where I can make work that is about what I want to make and not just the magazine that I'm at."

I didn't know that the Cut role was going to be opened. When it came about, that felt like, "This is the right door for me to open to see if I can make work that is more expansive." It speaks to the kind of work that I want to make that's indicative of the woman that I am — as a Black woman, as a young woman, as a person in my 30s, as someone trying to figure it out like everyone else.

You told WWD that as a person of color, you have "a different responsibility" in your job. How have you used your role to act on that responsibility?

Whether it be in the writers, the visual language that we use on the site, the photographers, or the brands that we shoot — every little thing is so intricate.

It's in, obviously, the structural things of who you hire, but also in the tone. The way that you talk to your audience, the way that you talk about other people in the work. It requires a level of accuracy and intentionality that I think everybody is not willing to do.

You've also said that The Cut has a "fearless usefulness." How have you seen that unfold over the past year?

We want to be of service to our readers, and I felt like our abortion issue last year was a big moment for us. We wanted to make sure that people had the resources and access to be able to get abortions wherever they are and to be able to have that information accessible and available, not behind our paywall.

And I think of the issue we did early last year on 10 years since Trayvon Martin had passed as this fearless usefulness because everybody had been swirling, post-pandemic: "What are the conversations around BLM?" I've written so much about Trayvon and Breonna Taylor, and there were so many things — the conversations around George Floyd, etc. — that felt surface level. There were important conversations that needed to be had.

Switching gears a bit, how do you feel about the luxury fashion industry's relationship with Black creatives now compared to the past?

I think Black creatives have more opportunities than they did in the past. There's also more transparency around pay and pay equity.

One of the biggest differences is that people are much more willing to come forward and have a lot of those conversations about what it's actually like working with brands and PRs. I think people saw that if they watched the Law Roach interview that I just did. The more that people are forthcoming, the better things will get.

Is there anything in particular in Black history and culture that inspires your fashion perspective?

I often think about innovation as a concept and understanding that Black people have started so much and not gotten the credit for it. I want to make sure that we're giving Black creators the space to be seen and heard in a big way.

I find a lot of inspiration from fashion things, but I often also find it from Black authors and Black creatives outside of fashion because I think it's all connected.

In what ways have you seen Black fashion leaders innovating and advancing the industry — both others and yourself?

A lot of the conversations now are requiring people to understand that there needs to be an infrastructural change. You have to choose what your values are.

If you really care about equity, equality, inclusivity, and diversity, you can't continue to hold tight to this idea that you have to work with the same people you've always worked with because those are the only people that understand your vision and those are the only people that speak your language, even though you know those people are racist and don't actually care about being progressive.

In the past, people would just do the front-facing thing, and it would be deemed as good enough. Now we know so much more and understand that that's just scratching the surface of what needs to be done.

I want the future of fashion to be less afraid to be honest.

I think because I'm not from here, and I'm from the Midwest and spent a lot of time in smaller places and not just big cities for fashion shows and things like that, the excitement and pure love that's not tainted by the industry that people have for fashion is really beautiful. I want that to be the future of fashion — not the politics, not the messiness of it.

What advice would you give to the next generation of fashion writers?

Oh, this is an easy one. I get so many amazing, lovely young people who love the industry but want to be famous. And I think you have to make that distinction quickly.

I don't care about fame. I don't care about the popularity of it. I'm here to do work that has longevity and stands the test of time.

There's usually a disconnect with young people of understanding that while I don't want you to have to suffer and endure certain things, you also have to work hard regardless of who you are.

I want young people to be less thirsty for attention and more hungry to do the work. Followers, being on panels, all this other stuff are additive, lovely things, but it doesn't matter. It fades away.

You have to focus on the things that are actually going to sustain you because I've seen so many people in this industry care more about the clothes, care more about how it looked on Instagram, care more about how it seemed to other people. That's the fastest way to lose track of who you are, your calling, your purpose, and your identity. So that's always my advice.