If this were a face-to-face conversation, our sassy Barmaid would be telling me about her Ritu Beri entry and I would follow up with…
It’s funny that you should mention Beri’s rubbish ideas on Indian design, Barmaid, particularly the bit about how it is limited. Just the other day I was partaking in some retail therapy and I happened upon my most bank-breaking pleasure, a little Queen West shoppe called ‘Delphic’. Of course I had to go in for a teensy look, maybe try on a little of this and that, drool over some sneaks.
I took a tentative step through the door and what did I see? A lone mannequin wearing a twisted ‘Little Black Dress’, the shape of which looked eerily familiar. I mean really familiar. My eyes then darted right and on the rack there was a coat. A grey coat. With painful-looking needlework that I have only before seen in the kurtas I used to wear (back when I lived in a warmer climate). But the pattern did not resemble anything I had ever seen before, here or in that yonder homeland. Delicately I moved the lapels aside to reveal a name: Rashmi Varma. Ahhh, it made me feel good.
The nice shop lady informed me that Varma spends her time between Toronto and Delhi, where most of her pieces are made. I asked to see all the RV items they had, held up top after top to see if I could find even a hint of that proverbial ‘mango’. And you know what? Nothing. Just beautiful, expressive pieces like the Bihari dress, or the Kantha trench, or (my personal fav) the Dogri jersey pants. Hammertime.
Yes I do have faith in Indian fashion, perhaps not in Beri’s world of regurgitated design but efforts made in cloth have never been limited to haughty architects who like to point fingers while their own blinders are fastened in place. Hmph!
