I read this article: “We Have No International Designers” in the Times of India.

First, I was annoyed that Ritu Beri seems to be chasing the ideals of a postmodern colonialist landscape.

The West doesn’t even recognise the Indian fashion industry, just individual designers…

Then, I felt like she might have a point…

In fact, Ritu feels that the West wants fashion with a distinct Indian edge from us. “We should restrict ourselves to Indian wear because we do that best…”

Then, I was annoyed again:

Her take on the Indian fashion weeks is also quite dismal. “Indian fashion weeks will not take the industry anywhere as we don’t exactly know what is happening outside our four walls…”

Then I wondered why I’m ever surprised that India still gets so exotified by the West for its spiritual swamijis and silken sensuality and, now, ruffled cotton petticoats:

So, that’s why Ritu herself prefers phoren to Indian fashion weeks. “For them, India is a very exotic land. From spirituality to people - everything attracts them. For them, even a petticoat and a saree is Indian fashion,”says Ritu.

Ultimately, I’m just curious as to which fashion industry she thinks the West recognizes besides its own. I mean, granted it piecemeals items from here and there, to accessorize and colorize and glamorize, and to aid and abet its crimes of fashion — but are we waiting for them to tell us we’ve arrived? And for allowing us to keep the clothes on our backs once we get there?

(And I say this with utmost respect for the global vision of Tyra Banks, Ken Mok and the executive staff of America’s Next Top Model — not only for picking Indian Julie from Kent, WA, even if she went out on the third elimination during Cycle 3 for admitting to being on the show to get ahead in manufacturing — but also for featuring fashion capitals in South Africa and Asia when the girls make their international mid-season jump. And also to Nigel Barker for being not only a smoking hot noted fashion photographer but for organizing a South Asian-themed shoot during the last season because he’s half-Sri Lankan, thereby upping his hot factor by making him trendy and interracial to boot.)

And I’m curious as to why it’s necessary to sell out the accomplishments of a rich, bedazzled tradition of costume designers, jewelers, tailors, and silk weavers who have won domestic and international accolades and emulation, in their own unique way, for decades, if not centuries, and influenced the evolution (or devolution, according to Ms. Beri) of India’s fierce, one-of-a-kind, knock-out strut down the world’s fashion catwalk.

But mostly — after forwarding this article to my parents and two friends — each of whom had a completely different take on what Ritu Beri was ultimately trying to say, I’m just curious as to what the point was she was trying to get across.

Ritu: Don’t worry, if your autobiography “I’m Too Sexy for This Salwar Kameez” — priced at Rs 1 lakh per copy — doesn’t do well “abroad” and the Indo-French crossover project in “overall assistance” falls through, I’m sure there’s a Delhi-themed episode of America’s Next Top Model with your name written all over it. You can put snake charmers and auto rickshaws and Bengal tigers in the blurry background, and let the women drape themselves with cobras and Nalli silks before they’re photographed in familiar Kama Sutra poses known the world over. Though, despite the publicity and promotion your autobiography would enjoy, I feel the need to warn you that the WB and haute couture are not particularly synonymous.