Thursday, February 02, 2006
FASHION IS IN FASHION
BY KAVITA KANE
Fashion shows are getting to be fashion statements. Very ‘fashionable’ to throw a fashion show whether it’s New Year’s, a sit-down dinner for fifty, a gala launch of a restaurant, a hair salon or even your six-year-old’s birthday party! “Rea simply insisted that she wanted one!” Rea’s mom simpers beautifully,“just like the ones on FTV! And for three whole days, I have been going crazy buying all those teeniest outfits for the dear girls! Please do send your kids for the practice session, daily from five to six till the 12th of Feb - the Big Day!”
Having seen fashion shows suitably at close quarters, I was all too aware of how incredibly punishing the ‘practice sessions’ could be and I wilted at the thought of those little kids suffering that one-hour agony for another ten days to come. That I was wrong would be an understatement. They did return home tired - but very happy - eagerly waiting for school to get over the next day to dash across to Rea’s house for a repeat of the strutting round! Wanting badly to ban this event, or better, veto the girls from attending the ‘fashion-show’ birthday party altogether, I, instead, had to curl my fingers into angry fists which I would have loved to flail furiously on the silly head of Rea’s mom!
A fitness club was celebrating its fifth year of healthy existence. Paying a perfunctory visit as the most irregular member of the venerated ‘gym’, I agonised through three long, self-congratulatory speeches, a winding prize-giving ceremony (for Best Physique and Flat Abs!) and last, and by far, the worst – a shuddering-awful fashion show!! “Wouldn’t like to find our daughters wearing such clothes, would you?” fiercely whispered the proprietress of the health club-in-celebration, a genteel German lady who could not help grimacing each time she saw the young girls flash the soaring hemlines and plunging necklines. I wore a similar, slightly more exaggerated, expression the remainder of the evening.
How hot the haute happening is, is decided by the wannabes and the will-bes. Procuring an invitation for such a soirée is an art now finely masterminded by many, if not most. From beseeching to blunt to blasé, as the gracious host, you have an ample choice to refuse all – but for the inveterate show-crashers, kissing-so touchingly in-the-air the same faces they brushed cheeks with, four times last week!
A collective hysteria, meanwhile, echoes loudly through the schmoozing pecking order where the Lakme Fashion week becomes a national phenomenon, more celebrated and talked about than the Republic Day parade!
Fashion shows are getting to be fashion statements. Very ‘fashionable’ to throw a fashion show whether it’s New Year’s, a sit-down dinner for fifty, a gala launch of a restaurant, a hair salon or even your six-year-old’s birthday party! “Rea simply insisted that she wanted one!” Rea’s mom simpers beautifully,“just like the ones on FTV! And for three whole days, I have been going crazy buying all those teeniest outfits for the dear girls! Please do send your kids for the practice session, daily from five to six till the 12th of Feb - the Big Day!”
Having seen fashion shows suitably at close quarters, I was all too aware of how incredibly punishing the ‘practice sessions’ could be and I wilted at the thought of those little kids suffering that one-hour agony for another ten days to come. That I was wrong would be an understatement. They did return home tired - but very happy - eagerly waiting for school to get over the next day to dash across to Rea’s house for a repeat of the strutting round! Wanting badly to ban this event, or better, veto the girls from attending the ‘fashion-show’ birthday party altogether, I, instead, had to curl my fingers into angry fists which I would have loved to flail furiously on the silly head of Rea’s mom!
A fitness club was celebrating its fifth year of healthy existence. Paying a perfunctory visit as the most irregular member of the venerated ‘gym’, I agonised through three long, self-congratulatory speeches, a winding prize-giving ceremony (for Best Physique and Flat Abs!) and last, and by far, the worst – a shuddering-awful fashion show!! “Wouldn’t like to find our daughters wearing such clothes, would you?” fiercely whispered the proprietress of the health club-in-celebration, a genteel German lady who could not help grimacing each time she saw the young girls flash the soaring hemlines and plunging necklines. I wore a similar, slightly more exaggerated, expression the remainder of the evening.
How hot the haute happening is, is decided by the wannabes and the will-bes. Procuring an invitation for such a soirée is an art now finely masterminded by many, if not most. From beseeching to blunt to blasé, as the gracious host, you have an ample choice to refuse all – but for the inveterate show-crashers, kissing-so touchingly in-the-air the same faces they brushed cheeks with, four times last week!
A collective hysteria, meanwhile, echoes loudly through the schmoozing pecking order where the Lakme Fashion week becomes a national phenomenon, more celebrated and talked about than the Republic Day parade!
# posted by Biswadeep Ghosh @ 1:17 AM 
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Fashion is senseless. Having one's own style is important. Ponytail looks good on me, not burgundy streaks please.
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