Category Archives: Fashion

Little black dress

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The little black dress (actually a long black dress) worn by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s has just been auctioned off for a record $924,588 dollars at Christies in London, on Tuesday. This was roughly six times the highest estimate for the amount of money that the dress would bring in.

The dress was designed by Givenchy, who later donated it for a sale to help the famous “City of Joy” charity in Calcutta:

The dress, an iconic piece of cinematic history, was designed by Hubert de Givenchy, who became Hepburn’s life-long friend in 1953. He donated the dress to Dominic Lapierre, founder of the charity City of Joy Aid, which helps India’s poor…

Hepburn, who died in 1993, devoted much of her time in her later life to her role as Ambassador for UNICEF, the United Nations Children’s Fund.

City of Joy Aid is supporting the work of more than 1,000 social workers, doctors, nurses, therapists and educators in India, helping more than four million sufferers of tuberculosis, cholera and leprosy. [Link]

Givenchy made 3 such dresses for Hepburn – the other two are in museums. The charity was founded by novelist Dominique Lapierre who wrote a book of the same name which later became a movie starring the incomparable Om Puri and also Patrick Swayze.

Hepburn was one classy dame. Her commitment to helping others lives on long after she’s dead and gone.

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Straight eye for the guerilla guy

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Inspired by Anna and Sin, I thought that I would try my hand at fashion criticism. But where to start? I’m straight, and hardly fashion forward. I needed somebody who was in greater need of assistance than myself somebody like … Prabhakaran. While I may not be able to wage a decades long war against the government in Colombo, and I don’t have a cult of personality of my own, I can certainly dress better than him. [Yeah, I’m brave, blogging behind an anonymous handle and making fun of the head of the Tamil Tigers.]

So, ‘Tamil Eezha Desiya Thalaivar’ (how could I call him Thambi?) Velupillai, if you’re listening, here’s what I learned from reading GQ in the gym:

  1. Stocky guys should not wear horizontal stripes. And what’s with the camo tiger stripes? That was never in.
  2. Avoid mixing different kinds of stripes. For example, don’t have a sunburst coming out of your head while wearing a hat and shirt with the aforementioned camo tiger stripes.
  3. While hipster, ironic, trucker caps were in a few seasons ago, they’re not any more. And a thundercats type logo cap is only appropriate for a press conference if you’re Ashton Kutcher.
  4. If you have to have a big grimacing cat on your flag, don’t stand in such a way as to make it seem like the cat is taking a big bite out of your arm. It’s distracting, although not as distracting as the camo tiger stripes or the sunburst coming out of your head.
  5. Belts belong close to your waist level, not up above your navel. And a wide belt like that, worn so high? It makes you look fat. Also, try to match your belt with your shoes.
  6. Don’t wear a pistol under your armpit. It makes it harder to draw, and leaves the butt smelling … like armpit.
  7. Cyanide necklaces are out this season.
  8. Don’t shoot the messenger. Or blow him to smithereens.

More images of the man on the Tiger webpage.

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Fashion victims, unite!

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Ennis and I swapped a few e-mails the other day, in which, in-between soliciting my opinions on Begum Nawazish Ali and expressing a fear of pigeon-holing me, he offered up some ideas of stuff to talk about—politics, the whole “war on terror”, fashion, South Asian politics, that sort of thing.

Naturally, having all the depth of a particularly shallow puddle, IÂ’ve opted to go with fashion.

Fashion, or what passes for it in Pakistan, really pisses me off. Of course, that doesn’t mean that I don’t somehow find myself at least marginally involved with it, but in the years since I’ve been back, it’s taken on this quasi-mystical status as an “industry”, with a mythical “council” comprising…well, I’m not quite sure who’s on the council at present, but I’m going to go with “senior”, “established”, and/or “reputed” designers, since those are generally the terms that seem to be kosher.

Now, at the risk of back-tracking, let me just mention for the record that I know most of the designer community in Pakistan. It’s all a bit of the little pink mafia, with most designers either being gay men or straight women (I’m sorry, they’re not always gay, some of them are “bisexual”, or “bi-curious” snort; I’ve yet to meet a larger group of individuals who have managed to make what they describe as a “phase” last well over a decade or two). And then the photographers, stylists, event managers and “choreographers” all tend to fall into the same gay man/straight woman alliance, so when you combine the somewhat incestuous socialising with a severely limited pool, and then further refine it into an industry dominated by fags and their hags, it’s not hard to meet them all—and be declared their new best friend—within a matter of hours. And while I’ll admit that there’s a certain amount of glitz to the whole thing, to socialising with the crowd that everyone knows (of) and being dragged from one party to another, the realisation that it’s tinsel and not actual stardust comes rather rapidly.

I know, what a shocker, right? Fashion, shallow and superficial? Never! Continue reading →

The Exotic

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Let it go down in The Historical Archives of the Mutinous that I have officially posted way too many Paris Hilton references in this Mutiny-Wallah stint for my own good. But, gosh darn it, she makes it so easy!

The 25-year-old heiress to the Hilton hotel fortune will shoot for her friend, Anand Jon, an American fashion designer of Indian descent who is introducing a line of high-end evening wear for India’s stylish elite.

“For her, India is the land of exotica and beauty. In fact, her response was: ‘I finally get to visit the exotic’. She loves Indian culture and the Indian influence on clothes,” he said. [link]

Ugh. She used the ‘E’ word. Ironically, as I had posted earlier, even though we’ll be able to see her model clothes for India’s stylish elite, they still cannot watch her music video on TV….

In August, Indian censors issued an “Adult” certification — which means it cannot be broadcast on any TV channel — for the blonde socialite’s new music video “Stars Are Blind.”

Although she hasn’t visited the country before, Hilton is well known in trendy Indian social circles and CD copies of a notorious sex romp involving her and an ex-flame can be bought locally for as little as $2. [link]

Who is this desi man that runs in Hilton’s party circuit? First and foremost, he’s a blogger. Anand Jon is also a famous ‘American fashion designer of Indian descent,’ though a quick glance through his Spring 2007 collection didn’t exactly blow my LA-fashionista-mind. Maybe if Paris Hilton’s wearing it, or one of ‘India’s stylish elite,’ it would be more appealing…? Frankly, I find the gratuitous use of the word ‘exotic’ in describing his fashion as well as without seeing a brown skinned woman wearing his gear on his catwalk a little irksome.

Mr. Jon developed a passion for metals and fabrics growing up in South India, under the tutelage of master artisans and his grandmother, one of the most influential women in his life. During these formative years, his deep involvement in the Yogic disciplines set a metaphysical yet playful flavor to all of his creations. Anand Jon often pays homage to his heritage, while also embracing the cosmopolitan vibe of New York City and the raging progress of modern technology.

We can be sure that of one thing- that with Brangelina in India this year, and Paris Hilton going to Mumbai next year, that the Indian paparazzi are hitting jackpot on the tabloid photo front. I wonder if all this means Paris Hilton post-India will get inspired to add ‘exotic Hindu beats’ on her next album release… I can hardly wait.

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What in Samhain…

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such bullshit.jpg

Oy, I need to start having the intern go through your submissions. After innocently clicking “original” Sonia’s news tip about a Halloween costume she had seen, I clawed my big Mallu eyes out, AGAIN at all the inappropriateness I found. Owwww. Look for yourself, if you dare. —->

Recently, I mentioned to mutineer SJM that since he’s moving back to DC and I have a costume in mind, we should plan to do something fun for St. Pumpkin’s day, even if all we can come up with is adding to the cluster#^@% which is Georgetown on Halloween. The black and orange holiday is huge around here. Thousands converge on M st, in costumes both quotidian and cunning. This pink outfit merits neither of those words; this is plain annoying. If I see someone wearing the schmata on the right on the same street as my beleaguered, yet beloved Amma’s Vegetarian, I might have to rip off my bamboo earrings (at least two pair), hand Salil my Fendi bag (but keep my bad attitude) and invoke the “Manish Vij-Anti-Exoticism” law of 2005 as I beat a kutthi down.

From the website which sells this…thing:

Adult Hindu Costumes – This Adult Hindu Goddess Costume includes a Hindu Goddess costume satin coined top, wrap skirt, Hindu Goddess costume chiffon drape & coined headpiece. The Hindu Goddess Costume is available in Womens Standard.

I know I don’t have to ask you to correct me if I’m wrong, but when coins are used like that, isn’t it more of a belly dancing thing? Or also likely, a case of mixing up continents? When my little sister and I were young, we learned and performed Greek folk dances in authentic outfits which were lovingly made by all the Grandmothers at our church to resemble classic costumes of Crete, Macedonia, Peloponnesos et al…some of those ensembles had coin headdresses and trim similar to what you see on our…um…Hindu Goddess here. It’s like they weren’t even TRYING to exoticize accurately. Sheesh.

But who cares about that– it’s on sale! Click here and you can save 20% by purchasing your Hindu Goddess Costume now (don’t forget to wear it with the retch-inducing nude pantyhose). For just under $32, you, too, can wear an outfit even Diwali Barbie wouldn’t touch. The best part? My wrath and beat down are FREE, especially if Mr. Walker is my other escort for the night. Continue reading →

I see brown people

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You know how sometimes you just get … browned out to the point where everything you see has some sort of desi connection? Well, it happens to those not of the subcontinent as well. Here’s what happened to Saheli’s friend ToastyKen:

Not Aishwarya

While I was driving, I caught a glimpse of this Gap ad in a bus shelter. “DESI(RED).” I immediately assumed it was pun on the words “desired” and “desi”. I only got a brief look as I sped by, so I figured it was a Desi model in the picture. (“Was that Aishwarya Rai?”)

“Hm,” I thought. “I didn’t realize the word ‘Desi’ was so mainstream now. Maybe they’re trying to project a multicultural marketing message or something?” But I didn’t really think that hard about it. [Link]

Of course, it’s not Aishwarya, it’s Penelope Cruz. And it’s neither an appeal for brownbucks nor a critique of socialist influences in “I love Lucy”, it’s part of the new (product)red branding exercise / fundraiser “designed to Help Eliminate AIDS in Africa.” It has nothing to do with us, even though we like to imagine that everything does. It’s purely a koinkydink.

As an aside, while I often find myself defending Bono, in this case I agree with the conservative critic Michael Medved’s opinion of the campaign (assuming he’s correct):

… [Medved] called the campaign a “scam” because, he wrote, it is merely an excuse for companies “to jack up their prices on ordinary merchandise to ridiculous levels, and not all the difference in price is actually going to the charity…” [Link]
I’m afraid I’m too desi (i.e. cheap) to buy in. I’d rather buy the regular gear and send a check for the excess directly to the charity of my choice without having the Gap or whoever skim its percentage. To me, that’s the desi and desi(red) way of donating.

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Burnt Cork and Grease Paint

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bamboozled.jpegThere’s a powerful scene in “Bamboozled,” Spike Lee’s most difficult and underappreciated movie, in which the street-actor characters played by Savion Glover and Tommy Davidson, having been recruited into a scheme that involves staging a deliberately outrageous, racist pilot for a TV show, find themselves in the dressing room applying blackface. The camera lingers as the cork burns and the grease paint is prepared, and pulls back to show us the characters as they see themselves in the mirror, watching their natural brown hues turn to a shiny, oily black.

Blackface was both insult and injury. Used by white actors, it offered literal cover for the most offensive caricature; used by black actors, it represented a negation of oneself that was demanded to earn a living as a performer, and worse, the prerequisite of dehumanization in order to represent those portrayed as one’s own community, one’s own self. More than any law or repressive policy, it sent the message that black people were simply not human.

kate_1.jpgOver the weekend, I was shown a tube of grease paint of a make used back in the blackface heyday. A small, banal object, yet one invested with so much and so troubling a meaning. Well it turns out that just a couple of days earlier, the British daily The Independent ran this front-page image in honor of its “Africa issue” with half of the day’s revenues to help fight AIDS on the continent. The depiction is of Kate Moss, the decidedly non-black British fashion model and alleged onetime cocaine/heroin fiend, not only blackened but Blackened — bigger lips, thicker brows, fleshier cheeks. “NOT A FASHION STATEMENT,” the headline blares, while an inset on the sidebar promises a poster of the image inside.

Here’s a British term: BOLLOCKS! That’s also the view of Sunny from Asians in Media and Pickled Politics, our sister-from-another-mother site from across the pond, who puts it succinctly:

Could they not find a black model to represent Africa?

A particularly typical example of liberal guilt “we-feel-sorry-for-you” racism. You see they would have liked to to put a black model on the front but she just would not have sold as many copies. So they used a druggie.

It would have been better for the Indy to not even bother.

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Come come my lady, you’re my butterfly, Sugar baby

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Two things are going to happen here that you never imagined you would see coming from me. One has already happened. Yes, I did in fact quote Crazytown in the title of this post. The second? I am writing a post about Fashion! Let me transport you fabulous readers to Fashion Week in London. In particular, I want to focus your attention on the hottest Indian designer in town: Manish Arora. Here is a snippet (with pictures) from last year’s Fashion Week:

As the special guest of the British Fashion Council, Delhi-based designer Manish Arora was undoubtedly under some pressure to make his mark on London Fashion Week. Although on of India’s best loved designers – his shows are nigh impossible to squeeze into – over here he’s the new boy and performing to an audience which is undoubtedly harder to please.

He seemed to pull it off. Although more costume than fashion, he gave us a spectacle that won’t be easy to forget. Models, who looked like they’d spent too much time at the village fete face-painting stall, came out in frou frou skirts buoyed by layers of coloured netting. Indian motifs and imagers covered the surface of bright fabrics, vying for position with gold embroidery, tassles and metallic discs. [Link]

So how would Manish top the buzz he created last year? How would he make his gorgeous models memorable to all the buyers? One word. Butterflies.

Damn girl. Your butt-is-err-fly!

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American Babel

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Back in the day, I had an Italian co-worker who had the oh-so-Italian name “Enzo” coupled with the deadly, oh-so-Italian accent. The amazing thing about Enzo was that it didn’t matter one bit what was actually coming out of his mouth – the ladies in the office always had the same swooning reaction, “oh Enzo, say ‘operating system’ again. It sounds so sexy.”

Blech.

Despite having a pretty American accent myself (with an occasional touch of TX), I knew enough about how the world worked to know that one day, just once, I’d love to hear women swoon at the Indian accent. And on that day, my proverbial ship would finally come in and perhaps a few perceived ethnic slights would be righted. But, as Russell Peters once quipped, the primary thing the Indian accent is good for is cutting the tension.“The primary thing the Indian accent is good for is cutting the tension.”

The lesson? Enzo’s Italian accent evoked the exotic beauty, power and grace of a Ferrari the same way DesiTalk brought forth the rugged manliness of Apu.

So, the following commercial didn’t really move my meter much. TV Junkie that I am, I’ve usually got the boob tube on in the background while working. And, as a result, I probably get more than my fair share of 30second pop culture. So like many of you, I’ve come across a series of TV commercials for L’Oreal Cosmetics starring none other than our own Aishwarya Rai… Continue reading →

In Barbie’s Closet

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A coworker sent me a link to this toy (thanks, Abi!) and I can’t resist posting it, if only because I wonder how much of “us” Mattel got right and wrong. From Barbie Collector (where it’s cheaper, if you’re about to make some little girl or boy really happy by buying it for them):

The most important and magical festival celebrated in India is Diwali. Homes are decorated with marigolds and mango leaves, thousands of oil diyas or lamps are lit as auspicious symbols of good luck, and everyone enjoys sweets to the sound of firecrackers and revelers.
Diwali™ Barbie® doll wears a traditional teal sari with golden detailing, a lovely pink shawl wrap, and exotic-style jewelry. The final detail is a bindi on the forehead—a jewel or a mark worn by Hindu women.

Mango leaves? Really? Since I’m a 2nd Gen (and a Syriani Christiani) penne I’m not going to claim that I know much about either that or the festival of lights, but I do have an opinion on Barbie’s ethnic dress. I don’t think that is a “traditional sari“. Perhaps it’s half-of-one? Honestly, I think it’s more of a lehnga, since I’ve never worn a duppata with my very traditional (can it get more old skool than kanjeevaram?) outfits.

I was curious about the “exotic” jewelry so I started fruitlessly looking up words after AIMing an equally clueless friend who insisted that the chain and pendant which decorates Barbie’s hair is called a “tikka“. I associate this word with murgh, but whatevs. After reading an entry in Stephen Colbert’s favorite online resource, I was concomitantly disagreeing with her and picturing 55 word nanofiction written by Jai. Here’s what was so evocative:

* When Rajput men married, they are said to have cut their thumb on their sword and applied a tikka of their own blood to their brides. This custom evoked the Rajput values of courage and indifference to pain.

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