Monday, May 16, 2011
Taaza khabar from Cannes: That is you-know-who (by now!) with Kayne West. And, later in the night, with a desi friend . You-know-who is in the pink saree. Going by the pics, I'm guessing she's having a good time.... what do you think?
This appeared in Bombay Times today...
Desi Designers Vs. Cannes
Desi designers were wringing their hands last week and asking the obvious question: Why do our stars pick outlandish outfits for their international Red Carpet photo- ops, when there are so many talented Indian designers to choose from? One of them cribbed, “It just goes to show their lack of confidence in our abilities. It also shows a lack of confidence in themselves.” They have a point. Looking at some of the more comical Cannes images so far, saw several people squirming in embarrassment. Poor Ash. No matter what she wears, she gets it in the neck from the local fashion press. The thing is, what Ash wears makes a statement. It counts. Nobody gives a damn what other, lesser starlets strut around flashing, because they don’t count!This year may have been one notch better for Ash than some of the earlier fashion disasters, but the Elie Saab gown was certainly not flattering, given Ash’s new, generously filled out frame. One designer referred to it witheringly as an Arab-style wedding dress minus the veil. Most agreed that the rather ungainly , thick frill at her waist accentuated her hipline , while the thick, ornate fabric of the one shouldered gown further piled on the naughty kilos. The make-up was also a bit too harsh and exaggerated on that occasion. Ash’s next appearance in a sleeker, two- toned gown was far more elegant, even if the upswept hairdo looked dated. There’s no point in comparing her look to Angelina Jolie’s supremely casual, yet supremely stylish dress at lunch. She’s Angelina Jolie! That’s enough.
Our gorgeous ladies must assert themselves at such high profile affairs at which they are the cynosure of hawk-eyed journos from across the world. The standard excuse that’s trotted out is that the imperious stylists of some of the mightiest fashion houses dictate what the stars must wear ( remember, it’s all about promotion, promotion, promotion). But that rule applies to minor stars, not the major league ones, who are given a vast choice of selecting the best of the best from a huge, multi-brand wardrobe. Too bad they pick duds, time and time again. If only they’d leave it to their buddy designers back home, they’d be far better off. Our local talent is not just formidable, but they know what suits our girls. Nude may well be the colour of the season, but it does absolutely nothing for our skin tones. We end up looking washed out and drab, when we can look so much better in our rani pinks and peacock blues. Perhaps in the few days left for the Festival to close, our stars will pull out the stops and get those flashbulbs going. Given the stiff competition in the glamour stakes this year, that isn’t going to be a cakewalk for any of them. Pity a prestigious film festival has been reduced to a catwalk by Bollywood. But till such time as we start making quality cinema, we’ll have to console ourselves each time we watch Aishwarya the model, preen and pose for shutterbugs on the Croisette.
While on designers and all things fashionable, some of the big names have been really put off by the starry tantrums and demands of our top actresses whose secretaries and personal stylists pester these designers to send across pricey couture for their clients to flaunt at high profile events. Often , these wealthy actresses ‘forget’ to return borrowed garments, or flatly refuse to give them back saying, “But look at the publicity I generated for your label by wearing your outfit to so-and-so’s party.” As of now, the entire designer community is up in arms against a beauty contest winner who has walked off with her entire pageant wardrobe! Tch. Tch. Not done, honey. Be a good girl and send those frocks back immediately… or else!
South Mumbai wears a deliciously deserted look these days – everybody’s left town! One can zip down those crowded roads in fifteen minutes flat and actually find a table in popular restaurants during peak hours. While we desis are fleeing the unbearable mugginess and mayhem for cooler climes, Liz Hurley is the only one who is voluntarily flying in to be with her man. Love ka side effects and all that.Obviously somebody forgot to Warne our Liz about the LSD syndrome.
For some weird, entirely illogical reason, I believe Shiney Ahuja. Do you?