Guys, I'm leaving for Bengalaru tomorrow. The trip sounds promising. I shall be chief guesting at a College where they have displayed imagination and a sense of adventure by interpreting literature through performances - music, dance, theatre, followed by a discussion. All good. As always, it is likely to be yet another frenetic trip. But I would rather risk that than stay home looking at the utterly depressing images of the so-called Couture Week. And I definitely won't subject myself to adumb foot massage at the Mumbai airport. Rs 450 for an inept 15 minute job of tickling my toes? Call that reflexology?? What a rip off!
Couture Week was an unmitigated disaster according to those foolish enough to make the trek and stand in a long line to use 3 improvised, temporary loos! Wonder where SRK and Gouri 'went'? Then comes the revelation that the organisers PAID designers to participate! Ooops! No wonder the shows were what they were. Karan Johar put it in perfect perspective: He claimed it took him the entire morning to figure out how to pronounce 'couture'. It may take our designers an entire lifetime to figure out what it means!
Now that fashion has been officially hijacked by Bollywood, perhaps it can be rechristened Bollywood Couture Week next year. Poor Priyanka Chopra looked like a ghost, a bhootni auditioning for Phoonk-2, or a cross dresser from Reay road - a tragic combo of Devdas and a Devdasi. Hideous. Ditto for my favourite ramp gal, Madhu Sapre. What's with turning lovely ladies into drag artists? And why do fashion mags insist on making movie stars resemble drab maids, minus make up and clad in muddy colours?? We need many bonfires for all those vanities on display.
I shall be back on this spot come sunday. Kanchipuram idlis, here I come!