KUALA LUMPUR — A few years ago, a young woman wearing a hijab began playing the guitar at music cafes around the Malaysian capital, singing songs of love and heartbreak.
With her combination of Muslim head scarf and skinny jeans, Yunalis Mat Zara’ai drew attention for her appearance as much as for her music.
Since then, under the stage name Yuna, she has won a clutch of Malaysian music awards, moved to Los Angeles, signed with an American music label, appeared on “The Tonight Show” with Jay Leno, started a clothing business and in the process has become the poster girl for a group of young Malaysian Muslim women, dubbed hijabsters, or hipsters who wear the hijab.
“I love music,” said the 27-year-old singer and songwriter, who sings in English and Malay. “I’m just like any other girl out there.”
The accolades for Yuna — as a musician and as a cultural force — have come from the West as well as the East. This fall, she appears in an ad campaign for Barneys New York, shot by the photographer Bruce Weber.
In Malaysia, where she has won Anugerah Industri Muzik honors — the local equivalent of the Grammys — every year since 2010, Yuna is already one of the country’s biggest stars. In 2011, the news and opinion website Free Malaysia Today ran an article titled “How to spot a hijabster” by the columnist Zaidel Baharuddin, where he described the phenomenon sparked by Yuna as akin to a “feminist awakening,” even as he poked gentle fun at the hijabsters who hung out at Starbucks and the frozen yogurt chain Tutti Frutti.
While hijab fashion emerged first among young Muslims in Europe, Mr. Zaidel reckons it has spread so quickly here as to become a potential cultural export of Malaysia. “This is ours. This could be our K-pop or our Korean drama,” he said in an interview.
On a recent trip back to Kuala Lumpur for Eid al-Fitr, the holiday that marks the end of the fasting month of Ramadan, Yuna performed at an MTV concert at a giant water park before an audience of thousands. Coming onstage after the K-pop band Boys Republic and before the American hip hop artist B.o.B., she appeared, backed by her band, wearing red lipstick, a gold turban — she sometimes swaps her scarf for a turban — and a gauzy white pantsuit that fluttered in the wind.
“Who do you think you are? This love, you’re throwing away,” she sang in the Malay song “Lelaki” or “Men,” her voice sounding a little bit Norah Jones. In the English-language song “Rescue,” she crooned: “She don’t need no rescue, she’s okay.”
After another smaller show at a mall, she was mobbed by fans bearing smartphones. “She expresses what we feel,” said Azimah Sharipuddin, a 21-year-old student, who snapped a picture of herself with Yuna. The song “Rescue,” for example, “is about girl power,” she said.
For fans like Ms. Azimah, Yuna is the role model they’ve been waiting for, a dynamic young career woman who is also an observant Muslim.
“These are not real hipsters or rebels,” said Mennah Ibrahim, a Beirut-based branding expert for the marketing and communications firm JWT Global, who has researched young Muslim consumers around the world. “They work within — rather than against — the rules.”
In Malaysia, where 60 percent of the 30 million population is Muslim, people practice a moderate brand of Islam distinct from most of the Arab world. The head scarf has proliferated since the 1980s, inspired by the Iranian revolution, but here, the decision on whether to cover up rests on a mix of religious obligation, societal pressure and personal choice, rather than law or decree. Veils are still rare.
Dina Zaman, a Malaysian journalist who writes about Muslims, said she started noticing a renewed interest in religion among young Malaysians about a decade ago, after the Sept. 11, attacks polarized countries and communities.
At the same time that more young women were donning the hijab, they were also experimenting with fashion. Magazines such as the Malay-language glossy title “Hijabista,” which now has a circulation of 45,000, began crowding newsstands. A fashion industry has grown around this: the online retailer FashionValet, for example, sells a popular line of head scarves in gift boxes and is owned by the fashion blogger Vivy Yusof, who has more than 120,000 followers on Instagram.
These young women, said Ms. Dina, “were recreating their own boundaries. They want to be fashionable, but they also want to obey God.” She added: “Yuna is a leader in that sense.”
The daughter of a judge and a high-school teacher, Yuna began singing at talent shows in first grade. She grew up listening to Fiona Apple and Coldplay and performed in jazz cafes through college in Kuala Lumpur, where she obtained a bachelor’s degree in law.
Her decision to wear a head scarf came about 10 years ago. Her motivation was simple: “I wanted to be a better Muslim.”
Her family supported her musical ambitions and her mother is often present at her gigs. But until Yuna, female Muslim entertainers in Malaysia tended not to cover their hair, and those who did generally left the industry. As she remembers it, “even Malaysians were a little bit shocked.”
Her decision to perform with a head scarf opened her to a higher level of scrutiny. Conservative Muslims took issue with her skinny jeans. “Some people have a problem with that,” she said. “People think they’re too tight.”
In general though, she said she noticed she was treated better after she started covering her hair. “It’s a cliché,” she said, “but people are more respectful.” She’s careful not to sound preachy but said she’s pleased that wearing the hijab is “not something that’s weird anymore.” She added: “If I inspired people to embrace their faith then I’m really happy, Alhamdulillah!”
By the end of this year, she will have toured more than two dozen cities in the United States, promoting her latest album, “Nocturnal,” released by Verve Music, part of Universal, last year.
She has also been busy on the home front. In May, she opened a store in a suburb of Kuala Lumpur called November Culture — after the month she was born. The store reflects her interests and pet causes — there are long-sleeved sequined gowns of her own design, Yuna CDs, terrariums and a donation box for the humanitarian aid organization Mercy Malaysia.
She’s inspired, she said, by the growing numbers of young women dressed like her everywhere, not just in Kuala Lumpur, but in cities from Chicago to Cairo.
“What we wear is our own choice, how we cover up,” she said. “Personally, I found a balance.”