28th March (MENSWEAR DAY)
“Fashion is the art, designers are the gods, Models play the part of angels in the dark, Which one of you would ever dare to go against, That beauty is a trade and everyone is paid”
“Fashion is the art, designers are the gods, Models play the part of angels in the dark, Which one of you would ever dare to go against, That beauty is a trade and everyone is paid”
-Lyrics from Fashionista by Jimmy James
The second day of the Lakme Fashion week dawned like any other day for me. I woke up, made a little extra effort to dress up, grabbed my bag and keys and then scooted off. The only change in my routine was that I’d had to catch the Andheri ‘direct’ that day, which would take me to the Grand Hyatt without the hassle of changing trains. I pitied the designers and organizers though, and wondered how many sleepless nights and nerve wrenching deadlines had been endured by them to put up the show.
The venue was a little tricky to find and felt alien compared to the familiar environs of the NCPA. The heavy security was apparent at the gates itself where cars were being checked (for car bombs, perhaps) and no car passed without being halted for a two minute check by the security guards. Since, I had entered the premises on just my two feet I sauntered uneventfully through the gates with my friends. The glass walls of the Grand Hyatt were perfect for me to check myself out while passing by, and settle in strands of hair that were out of place. But of course my unruly hair was completely messy as usual so I didn’t bother much anyway and walked towards the entrance. All this while my shoe strap kept coming lose and ending up under my heels. Extremely irritating.
The x-ray machines at the entrance reminded me of the three-fold security at the Taj. The sight of all that security was, in a way, comforting because it ensured that we’d be protected if some bored terrorist decided he’d blow up the Grand Hyatt for lack of anything else to do. My bag retrieved at the end of the check, I headed inside the hotel. I was surprised at not being subjected to body check with the metal detector. Did they expect that only men went around carrying bombs and guns? Who assassinated the Prime Minister in ’91, huh?
The reception area of the Grand Hyatt was a flurry of activity. Designers, socialites and organizers were scurrying about, leaving trails of expensive perfume behind while looking fashionably harassed. Fashion Weeks are places where ‘who are you wearing?’ gains priority over ‘what are you wearing?’ The people here were no exception and were dressed to the teeth. As we descended the marble steps after flashing our college IDs, my friend Tolly’s bag strap snapped and the bag fell down with a thud (apparently it was full of things, including a pair of spare heels she’d wear for clubbing later in the evening).
It was extremely confusing to find our way around the place and we had no idea where the stalls were so we decided to simply hang around the show area so as to not miss the one o’clock show. As the area began to fill with people I noticed the graphics on the walls. Africa is the muse of most designers this season and it reflected in the grasslands and earthy colours used in the graphics. To the left was a glass wall with a door which led to the open air. A lot of people, including a few models were standing outside and smoking there.
A few minutes before the show began, the air was filled with the tinkling sound of what I soon saw, was a xylophone. A young boy with curly hair and wearing the black volunteer t-shirt was walking up and down near the show area and playing on a small, handheld xylophone. Apparently this was a call informing everyone that the show was about to start.
The first show was the Accessory Show by Little Shilpa and one of the best that day. The models sashayed down the ramp in military costumes and eccentric headgear. Military medals emblazoned the fronts of some. The headgear varied from Las Vegas plumes to metal caps with rotating fans. Some had a mass of military caps piled on their heads. Woollen cut-finger gloves were worn along with glittering brocade by others. Monikangana walked with a net trailing behind her. The showstopper was an ensemble with the skirt resembling a deconstructed tent and wore a glittering gas mask over the model's face. All this while the screen behind played video clips from the World War. The music turned creepy towards the end as the models, all with their faces covered in gas masks, gathered in the middle of the ramp and the lights dimmed. It was next to impossible to make out the designer when she made her entrance since was so small and I felt for a moment that she was a young girl.
The Show by Malaga which was inspired by Egypt seemed shabby in comparision and I could see, even from my back row seats that some of the bags were shoddy looking and had a bad finishing.
Another show which impressed me was the five o’clock show by Krishna Mehta. (Before the show started, Tolly gave another demonstration of her superior intelligence by pointing at Vinay Pathak, who was flanked by two pretty girls, and asking,”who is that fat man?”) The clothes were inspired by the story of Joseph from Egypt and had a biblical charm. A live band on the left was playing the music while an old man narrated the story from the sound console. Cyrus Broacha, Boman Irani and Kunal Khemu walked the ramp for to promote their new film 99.
The men’s show day was, strangely, packed with men, who were mostly really cute to look at but my hopes had crashed when i saw that they already had ‘boyfriends’. Most women (and some men) couldn’t keep from blushing and drooling at the models when they walked down the ramp. Aryan Baruah looked especially ravishing in Krishna Mehta’s brocade jackets.
We were chased away after the 5 0’clock show and we decided we’d head back home since the later shows required passes which we did not possess. It had started just as any other day for me but ended as one which would find a special place in my memory.
The venue was a little tricky to find and felt alien compared to the familiar environs of the NCPA. The heavy security was apparent at the gates itself where cars were being checked (for car bombs, perhaps) and no car passed without being halted for a two minute check by the security guards. Since, I had entered the premises on just my two feet I sauntered uneventfully through the gates with my friends. The glass walls of the Grand Hyatt were perfect for me to check myself out while passing by, and settle in strands of hair that were out of place. But of course my unruly hair was completely messy as usual so I didn’t bother much anyway and walked towards the entrance. All this while my shoe strap kept coming lose and ending up under my heels. Extremely irritating.
The x-ray machines at the entrance reminded me of the three-fold security at the Taj. The sight of all that security was, in a way, comforting because it ensured that we’d be protected if some bored terrorist decided he’d blow up the Grand Hyatt for lack of anything else to do. My bag retrieved at the end of the check, I headed inside the hotel. I was surprised at not being subjected to body check with the metal detector. Did they expect that only men went around carrying bombs and guns? Who assassinated the Prime Minister in ’91, huh?
The reception area of the Grand Hyatt was a flurry of activity. Designers, socialites and organizers were scurrying about, leaving trails of expensive perfume behind while looking fashionably harassed. Fashion Weeks are places where ‘who are you wearing?’ gains priority over ‘what are you wearing?’ The people here were no exception and were dressed to the teeth. As we descended the marble steps after flashing our college IDs, my friend Tolly’s bag strap snapped and the bag fell down with a thud (apparently it was full of things, including a pair of spare heels she’d wear for clubbing later in the evening).
It was extremely confusing to find our way around the place and we had no idea where the stalls were so we decided to simply hang around the show area so as to not miss the one o’clock show. As the area began to fill with people I noticed the graphics on the walls. Africa is the muse of most designers this season and it reflected in the grasslands and earthy colours used in the graphics. To the left was a glass wall with a door which led to the open air. A lot of people, including a few models were standing outside and smoking there.
A few minutes before the show began, the air was filled with the tinkling sound of what I soon saw, was a xylophone. A young boy with curly hair and wearing the black volunteer t-shirt was walking up and down near the show area and playing on a small, handheld xylophone. Apparently this was a call informing everyone that the show was about to start.
The first show was the Accessory Show by Little Shilpa and one of the best that day. The models sashayed down the ramp in military costumes and eccentric headgear. Military medals emblazoned the fronts of some. The headgear varied from Las Vegas plumes to metal caps with rotating fans. Some had a mass of military caps piled on their heads. Woollen cut-finger gloves were worn along with glittering brocade by others. Monikangana walked with a net trailing behind her. The showstopper was an ensemble with the skirt resembling a deconstructed tent and wore a glittering gas mask over the model's face. All this while the screen behind played video clips from the World War. The music turned creepy towards the end as the models, all with their faces covered in gas masks, gathered in the middle of the ramp and the lights dimmed. It was next to impossible to make out the designer when she made her entrance since was so small and I felt for a moment that she was a young girl.
The Show by Malaga which was inspired by Egypt seemed shabby in comparision and I could see, even from my back row seats that some of the bags were shoddy looking and had a bad finishing.
Another show which impressed me was the five o’clock show by Krishna Mehta. (Before the show started, Tolly gave another demonstration of her superior intelligence by pointing at Vinay Pathak, who was flanked by two pretty girls, and asking,”who is that fat man?”) The clothes were inspired by the story of Joseph from Egypt and had a biblical charm. A live band on the left was playing the music while an old man narrated the story from the sound console. Cyrus Broacha, Boman Irani and Kunal Khemu walked the ramp for to promote their new film 99.
The men’s show day was, strangely, packed with men, who were mostly really cute to look at but my hopes had crashed when i saw that they already had ‘boyfriends’. Most women (and some men) couldn’t keep from blushing and drooling at the models when they walked down the ramp. Aryan Baruah looked especially ravishing in Krishna Mehta’s brocade jackets.
We were chased away after the 5 0’clock show and we decided we’d head back home since the later shows required passes which we did not possess. It had started just as any other day for me but ended as one which would find a special place in my memory.
i like the Tolly part. :)
ReplyDeletePahahahaa...!! i can imagine her saying that too... LOL