If you want royal treatment at nightclubs in Argentina, maybe you should consider investing in a turban!

While playing golf in Buenos Aires recently, R. Viswanathan, the Indian ambassador to Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay, had an interesting experience: the Argentinian players asked him where they could buy a turban and how to wear it. When the ambassador probed the reason for their interest, they pointed to a home within the country club complex and said:

‘Here lives an Indian maharaja. He looks handsome with his turban. When he goes to the night clubs, he gets premium service and gets it free because they think he is a maharaja.’

When Viswanathan tried to explain that turbans do not equal maharaja status, the Argentinians asked him to shut up and not reveal this secret at the night clubs.

Turns out the “maharaja” they were speaking of is Simmarpal Singh, the “peanut prince of Argentina,” an employee of Olam, a 5.6 - billion dollar NRI company and a leading global supply chain manager of agricultural products and food ingredients!

Singh cultivates 12,000 hectares of peanut farms and another 5000 hectares of soya and corn in Rio Cuarto area in Cordoba province, about one thousand kms from Buenos Aires. His target is to take his company Olam among Argentina´s top three peanut players in the next few years. When he came to Argentina in 2005, his company was 28th in ranking in peanuts and he has already made it as sixth this year.

Viswanathan’s story, which profiles Singh’s work, ran in various Indian papers, including the Hindustan Times Punjab and The Asian Age, this past week. It examines the farming industry in Argentina and its potential to assist agriculture in India which is going to face shortage of land and water in coming years. Read it in full here.

Remember Sonny from the Kenneth Cole ads? Our favorite sexy Sikh man is back, this time with a full spread out in GQ Spring/Summer ‘09.

It’s great that the image of the sardar is receiving positive attention. Perhaps it will encourage those who aren’t familiar with Sikhs to learn more. I said perhaps. More realistically, the page will be turned (no, not all Sikh men dress…like that) and Sikhs will still be unknown. It’s in our human nature to see something unfamiliar, and then go back to our dinner and never think of it again. [LangarHall]

Why so skeptical, Sundari? I’m sure many a folks will be turning the pages on this entry virtually, repeatedly. More pictures after the jump…

I’m not the type to really follow New York Fashion Week (all bout L.A.!) but an article at Jezebel caught my eye.

There were 116 labels that held shows at the recently ended New York fashion week; that’s 3,697 spots in runway and presentation lineups. Of those, 668 were given to models of color — which, at just over 18%, is 6% better than one year ago. (And certainly better than in the fall of 2007, when WWD reported that one-third of the New York shows used no models of color at all.)[Jezebel]

The blog did further analysis breaking down the 668 models of color by race (41% Black models, 38% Asian models, 22% Latin models.) I know what you are thinking - where the Desi at? Using the nifty Desi Filter, I searched the names of the models of color in the top 25 shows in New York’s Fashion Week, just to see if the increased diversity included ‘our’ kind of diversity.

And the winner is, drum roll please…Lakshmi Menon is the only Desi model reppin’ on the runway at New York’s Fashion Week. Lakshmi appeared in the shows of Alexander Wang, Badgley Mishka, Carolina Herrera, Diane von Furstenberg, and Jason Wu. Looks like Padma needs to beware - there’s a new Lakshmi in town.

Who is Lakshmi? Born in Bangalore in 1981, she started modeling in 2006 and signed with Ford Agency. She is known for her “pout” and is seen as a “rising star.”

Tall and dark— in many ways, Lakshmi Menon is the typical ‘Indian’ beauty. But in many other ways, she’s as unconventional as they come. With a strong jaw line and endless legs, Menon is global fashion’s latest muse. She’s walked the ramp for biggies like Hermes, Jean Paul Gaultier, Issey Miyake, Stella McCartney, Ralph Lauren and Michael Kors.[Express India]

She has a short video diary from fashion week where you can catch her gorgeous accent. She also thinks you should visit Ladakh.

The good news: we had sexy, dark and lovely Lakshmi as our token brown skinned girl on New York Fashion Week’s runways. The bad news: Out of 3,697 spots, they couldn’t find another brown girl to step on to the runway? How is that possible? Desi girls are HOT. Have they seen the picture of Padma on a swing? Or Sunny getting out the vote? Or the desi cover girls on Indian Vogue, Indian Elle, or Indian Cosmopolitan? When in Delhi last month I spent hours in front of the magazine rack enamored by seeing beautiful brown women as cover girls. We have great potential desi supermodels, despite what ANTM may have us believe.

It’s great that the runways were more diverse this time around, but as far as I’m concerned, it wasn’t diverse enough. They can do better next time. As for now, I’ll take Lakshmi as our token, any day. Both Padma and Menon.

I can’t contain myself, I HAVE to live-blog the Golden Globes. That statement itself might be a spoiler, I know. If you’re on PST, have this isht on DVR or otherwise loathe learning something before you’re supposed to, don’t go past the jump.

[And if you are a Wesssssider, then come on. You’re used to this, so no need to complain…I’m from there, I remember the feeling, but there’s nothing to be done. Except move here. Which is what I did. ;)]

If you’re on the right coast and feel like gettin’ your Mutiny on…party over here!

I thought it would be cute and fun to do a “resolutions” post on December 31st, but I wasn’t sure how to approach it. After all, just asking you what you plan on not accomplishing in the new year seemed rather bleh. So, imagine my glee when I discovered a frothy fashion article about this exact subject with no less than 1.5 brown connections to exploit! Problem solved.

Via Vogue.com:

We asked some of our favorite women what they hope to do (or do a little bit better)—from family to food and fashion—in 2009.

I’ve only quoted about half of the resolvers here:

Vera Wang, designer “Work more and work out more.”

Venus Williams, tennis player “I think it’s time to give up leggings and add more prints to my closet in 2009. I also think it’s time for more accessories, but I want to avoid those big chunky pieces.”

While she is a tennis player, Venus isn’t our “0.5” connection. ;)

Chanel Iman, model “Step back into my closet and re-create the things I haven’t worn in a while and do wardrobe swaps with my friends. After the swap, you can go shopping for that one item that will make the trade pop. It’s kind of a green way to go.”

Sophie Buhai, designer, Vena Cava “Monochromatic fashion that feels elegant (but is almost boring) paired with an eccentric large metal necklace is what I am wanting to wear. As far as giving things up, I’d say it’s time to give up flashy designer bags. The new year and a new economy are all about buying vintage Ferragamo and Bottega on eBay.”

Coco Rocha, model “Wear more jackets. This is the time to bundle up, and a girl cannot have too many coats because it is what you are seen most in during the winter season.”

Marina Rust, contributing editor, Vogue “I know if I squeeze a lemon into a cup of hot water and honey every morning I will actually feel and look better. Maybe this year I will remember to do it.”

Tory Burch, designer “Keep things in perspective and not sweat the small stuff. I always try to focus on the big picture and remember if my family is happy and healthy, nothing is worth getting too stressed about.”

Chiara Clemente, filmmaker “Eat at home as much as I can. Maybe it’s because I am Italian, but you have to start with the basics. And that’s food.”

I was just watching the 2008 American Music Awards noting that asymmetrical and gold bead worked dresses were in (how gorgeous were Leona Lewis’ and Nicole Scherzinger’s dresses?) when Alicia Keys walked out onto the red carpet. Now, we’ve seen plenty of desi cultural appropriation attire on the red carpet over the years, (remember Madge’s desification?) but Alicia’s tikka and earrings just made me tilt my head to the side and go, “Huh…”

You’d think with five nominations, her stylist could have spent a little more time on the red carpet outfit… I can’t get over how cheap the combination of the ‘plastic’ earrings with the tikka looked. I kinda can see how the one shoulder dress slightly resembled the swoosh of the auchol over the left shoulder, but still. It’s a stretch.

[Full length fashion disaster after the jump.]

Well not Indian Bride Barbie so much as their November cover girl, but that’s totes what she reminds ME of (thanks, cookiemonsta):

Former Spice Girl Victoria Beckham graces the cover of Vogue India’s November issue, trading in her western outfits for a traditional Indian bridal sari.

“Posh” Beckham, the wife of British footballer David Beckham, chose several bridal outfits by Indian designers for the photo shoot, the magazine said in a statement. [linky]

She was also not overheard saying, “Can we hike these up a bit? I need people to see that I have replaced my seven-inch Loubys with swaggers. Aren’t they MAJOR?”

“I have long been an avid admirer of the Indian fashion and lifestyle culture,” Beckham, 34, was quoted as saying. [linky]

She then stared dreamily off in to space for a second while fondly remembering that one time, with that proto-chav who made it rain with rupees at Glassy Junction. Ah, good times.

The magazine’s fashion director said Beckham was thrilled to experiment with Indian bridal wear.

“She absolutely loved everything about it — from the ‘maang tikka’ and ‘haath zeb’ (traditional Indian jewellery) to the gorgeous lehengas (traditional Indian skirt with embroidery),” said Anahita Shroff Adajania. [linky]

What fool wouldn’t? Indian brides get to wear the most gorgeous clothes in the world. I love Reem Acra but even her most show-stopping gowns fade away in the presence of Priya and Chintan’s most basic lehenga.

The cover is after the jump.

Our recently retired around the way desi girl made a come back this past week in New York. Not in music, but in fashion. Yes, the queen of sparkly spandex and fake purple flowers on derby hats debuted her new line at same time as New York’s Fashion Week.

As promised, M.I.A. has launched her limited-edition clothing line, and the “Okley Run” store is open for business on her Web site. While the prints are pretty much as outlandish as you expect, the prices for each individual piece are a bit insane—and not in the “clashing colors that actually look better and better the more you focus on their dissonance” way, or even the Crazy Eddie way*. [idolator]

A quick glance of the online store had me come to a screeching halt — directly on the image of a sweatshirt labeled, “Islamic Hoodie.” It could be that the fasting from Ramadan has me extra sensitive, but it seems that everywhere I look I see images of hijabs as the latest fashion icon. I saw it on a shirt at a festival last week, and now this. On the Okley Run site the image of the sweatshirt could not be enlarged but I did see the eyes of a woman in niqab with what seemed like an explosion over her head. Could that really be what she was trying to say? What could M.I.A. have meant by this logo?

This would take some investigative blogging. The image on her site was simply not clear enough to decipher. Luckily, I just happen to live in one of the two cities where Opening Ceremony, the only store carrying her line retail, is - Los Angeles.

I saw it myself and then a few of you blew up the tip line (thanks, Taara), my twitter and my skypager; on Sunday, the Grey Lady featured an article about Vogue India’s…interesting choice of models, for one of their recent editorial shoots. The “creative” (and by creative, I mean not at all) direction the magazine (which I still can’t procure in DC) stumbled through raised your threaded-eyebrows as well as some of your hackles, and rightly so.

Giving impoverished people $10,000 bags, Burberry bumbershoots and Fendi bibs for their children reeks of an appalling level of arrogance, an utterly clueless infatuation with “edginess”, and a heartless disregard for those for whom India does not yet shine. But let me tell you how I really feel, as I fisk the NYT article freely:

NEW DELHI — An old woman missing her upper front teeth holds a child in rumpled clothes — who is wearing a Fendi bib (retail price, about $100).

A family of three squeezes onto a motorbike for their daily commute, the mother riding without a helmet and sidesaddle in the traditional Indian way — except that she has a Hermès Birkin bag (usually more than $10,000, if you can find one) prominently displayed on her wrist.

Elsewhere, a toothless barefoot man holds a Burberry umbrella (about $200).

Welcome to the new India — at least as Vogue sees it.

Way to keep it classy, VI. Also, just so you know, the text on that picture says, “Baby’s Day Out: It’s never too early to start living in style.”

First reported by High Heel Confidential (thanks Nirvana), the Google Ooogle Sari is here. It’s produced by designer Satya Paul (you can see his URL in the URL bar of the browser), as part of his “inspirational series 3 - pop art” (Thanks Bloog). This is the promotional copy attached:

Oogle
Georgette jacquard printed sari along with unstitched blouse piece attached.

Inspirational Series 3 - Pop Art
“Starting in the 50’s, Pop art is a reflection of popular culture in art. Pop art is neither praise nor condemnation but explores the everyday imagery that is so much a part of contemporary consumer culture. It often uses media, advertising, packaging, celebrity and comic book art styles to bring art closer to real life.” [Link]

The sari sells for Rs. 11,995.00/ USD. 299.88 and has now been spotted in a mall in Gurgaon:

Spotted this in a fancy mall in Gurgaon, India (the tech hub south of Delhi). I don’t know the backstory, and I couldn’t find out because (proving that India is aspiring to Western standards in every way!) a guard started rushing over to bust me for taking pictures. [Link]

This latter part cracks me up — was the guard protecting the intellectual property involved here? Afraid that somebody would take the photo and use it to create a copy of the sari more cheaply?

While I’m generally a traditionalist, I see the potential in this sort of printed sari. Do you think it will catch on? Will there be more logo branded saris in the future? Or perhaps saris that use text as decoration - after all, search results (and sponsored links in particular) are kind of boring. One could do far better if you want to invite somebody over to (ahem) deconstruct your text.

Finally - how long until somebody wears this to Google’s own offices? (I’ve got a friend who works at one of the Delhi area offices as a programmer, I should ask him if he’s spotted it yet)

Controversial crooner (and cover girl) Mathangi Arulpragasam got fugged not once, but twice over at the always-entertaining Go Fug Yourself (thank you thank you, mbawife). Behold her first fugtacular outfit below, and her second, after the jump (click to enlarge both to their full glory…srsly).

The first thing I thought of when I saw this (as if you hadn’t already guessed from my title) was “Jem! And the Holograms!”, or Jerrica, more accurately. They don’t make cartoons like they used to, do they boys and girls? When we played “Jem”, I always wanted to be “Aja”, but I was often stuck playing “Kimber”. The four of you who know what the hell I’m talking about need not comment, I can feel your sympathy over the intarweb. I’m sensitive like that.

Is it really possible to bottle the scent of a place? The House of Hermès is trying to do just that — capture the scents of the southern Indian state of Kerala with its new fragrance “Un Jardin Après la Mousson” (A Garden After the Monsoon). The result, after 300 drafts, according to “Liquid Assets” by Phoebe Eaton in the current NYT Travel Summer 2008 magazine is a perfume that is “confected with vetiver and kahili ginger, which isn’t a ginger at all but a white flower that gusts like a rogue hybrid of jasmine, tuberose and gardenia.”

I really enjoyed reading about the process of developing this perfume — the trials and experiments that Jean-Claude Ellen has undergone as he has struggled to “bottle the fantasy” of … well, let’s just scream it, EXOTIC KERALA! India is hot in the House of Hermès, apparently. Its the theme for 2008 and and “silk scarves are vivid with raw pinks and fleshy mangoes, elephants harnessed to carriages and tigers rampant.”

We all know the endless debate within our community between “traditionalists” and “modernists” about assimilation. Post 9-11, this debate became broader and more politicized, especially w.r.t. British Muslims. In the UK, public figures argued that Muslims need to be more fully assimilated into British society if further violence was to be avoided. A variant of this argument claimed that the hijab and niqab should be discouraged or banned outright.

A new study out undermines the broad claims of the assimilationists, claiming that Brit-Bangladeshi girls (between 11 and 14 years old) “who wore traditional clothing were significantly less likely to have mental health problems than those whose style of dress was a mix of traditional and white British styles.” [Link]

Interestingly enough, they found no effect of clothing choice on boys at all. To clarify, that means that a boy’s clothing choice didn’t influence his own happiness. I’m sure girls’ clothing choices have a strong impact on the happiness of an 11 to 14 year old boy . The “Brick Lane” hypothesis found little support.

Professor Kam Bhui, one of the study authors, said that the result was “surprising” - he had expected that girls who were less fully integrated to show signs of greater strain. “Traditional clothing represents a tighter family unit, and this may offer some protection against some of the pressures that young people face. What it suggests is that we need to assist people who are moving from traditional cultures and becoming integrated into Western societies, as they may be more vulnerable to mental health problems.”

Professor James Nazroo, a medical sociologist at the University of Manchester, said that the findings meant that “notions of Britishness” should be dealt with in a sophisticated way. “There are many ways in which people can be British - these girls who have good mental health, and still have a strong traditional culture, are by implication settled and comfortable with their identities…” [Link]

The article does not explain what researchers meant by traditional clothing. I think it means salvar kameez rather than the hijab/niqab, but am not sure. If so, it doesn’t really inform the debate about the veil at all. Nor does it speak directly to terrorism, or even to social alienation by adults.

Most importantly, I want to reassure all our readers that no matter how overwhelming the evidence collected, no matter how many studies pile up, I’m sure that Gurinder Chadha’s films will have exactly the same trite hackneyed plot that they did before.

The paper is available here. [Thanks Razib]

I love wearing saris. Trouble is, the more unique a sari is, the more memorable it will be. If you wore this to a wedding in May, people will still remember it in June. For those of us who are 3,ooo miles from home and Mama’s saris, that doesn’t leave us with many options, especially if shopping at ISP in Murrland isn’t a palatable idea.

Since I haven’t been back to the pind since 1989 (insert cringe here), and I feel like I’m getting massively ripped off if I buy something on Devon or University Avenue, that only leaves me with one way to get my pleats on; every year, some relative returns from Kerala with a few gifts which my much-adored Chinamma chose for me. She knows that I favor Kanjeevaram…and that her older sister, my Moms, is very conservative. [See: my blouse sleeves, for proof.] Chinamma always sends me something beautiful, and because of her, I haven’t needed to purchase something silky or slinky online. And that, dear mutineers, is why I didn’t see this (click, to enlarge…if you dare):

Quick, when was the last time I wrote a blog entry on the topic of high fashion for SM? Do some of you view me as a mere niche blogger who only writes about Antarctic exploration or freaky kids? These days, bloggers must remain sufficiently versatile so as to compete in a cut-throat business, one where the profit margins are razor thin and the trolls are out with knifes. And so I bring you news of designer Marc Jacobs’ spring/summer 2008 line (thanks for the tip “Meenbeen”):

Marc Jacobs can do anything he wants now. He’s even feeling confident enough to open up about a troubled private life that he once kept very private. And one expression of that confident spirit is the injection of willfulness he’s given to his collections. It’s a definite boon to the menswear in his second line, which can occasionally seem a little too close to the contents of College Boy’s closet. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but Jacobs has proved himself a virtuoso at distilling the talents of his various collaborators, and he has some keen ones at M. by M. We could rightly expect a little more. With this latest effort, we got it.

The menswear took the mixed-up, mumbled-up, shook-up world that Marc presented for his signature Spring collection and toned it down to one key discombobulation: asymmetry. [Link]

The above review was written during 2007’s Fashion Week in NYC. Since the majority of the clothes-buying-public didn’t attend Fashion Week, they will mostly base their opinion of his men’s clothing line on print ads seen in prominent men’s magazines, and based on the reviews of prominent fashion bloggers like myself. Some of you may recognize one of the models he has chosen to show off his new men’s line: the musician M.I.A. Below each photograph I will comment on the effectiveness of these ads from the perspective of a male with a disposable income.

In the above picture M.I.A. poses like that one potential child molester uncle in the family who the relatives all shield their kids from. Her clammy skin and disheveled hair seem to scream, “what!?” and I imagine that in the next frame (had it been published) her head and chest would have been lurching forward as she said just that into the camera. This look would suit a stockbroker or I-banker, the kind who will never be the best in his field, but has some cocaine to party with after work…so its all good. And those hands. Greedy, clutching, talon-like hands that will find a way to collect what’s coming to them. All things eventually find their way into those hands so you may as well just “give it up” without a struggle. Belt not needed for a look like this (in case you were wondering). The man wearing those pants shouldn’t have to be bothered with a belt anyways. Those pants need to be easy to pull down and easy to put on in a hurry when he needs to sneak out. And he sneaks out often. The tie? The subliminal message being sent by this ad is that even if you think the tie is ugly, you can still use it for something else. Like to tie something in place. Utilitarian clothing is in for 2008. [As a side note, this is the most attractive I’ve ever seen M.I.A. look, and I’ve seen her up close. I kept looking to see if there was a wire leading from one of those red sockets at the bottom left of the photograph, into her, to make her so electric].

The opposition Orissa Congress Party is pissed off and they ain’t going to take it no more. Surely I am referring to some local matter (perhaps involving bauxite), right? Nope. They are pissed off at the online (mostly T-shirt) store CafePress and want to lodge a formal complaint with the United States government so as to put a stop to the highly offensive insanity I am about to describe. We’ve heard this all before from American Hindus, but this one just escalates the absurdity to a whole new level:

Is that a Nehru in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?

Insensitivity towards foreign cultures and sentiments has plumbed new depths. A US-based online shop has kicked up a storm by printing images of the Tricolour, Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru on undergarments.

The Orissa Congress on Saturday condemned the “cheap publicity stunt.” “This is stupid on the website’s part to malign a world leader like Gandhi and a great national icon like Nehru in such a disgraceful fashion,” Opposition leader, J B Patnaik, said, adding, “They should be told through proper channels to stop it. Since the website is US-based, I urge Indians there to lodge strong protests…” [Link]

Did you hear that? “They should be told…to stop it.” I beseech you my fellow Indian Americans to heed the call of this nobody politician from Orissa and demand that we protest against the First Amendment of these United States. If you remain unconvinced then I must point out that the reputations of Gandhi, Nehru, and the Indian Flag are not the only ones at stake. There is far greater disrespect involved here:

Youth also protested against the derogatory portrayal of Bollywood icons, Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan, on similar products. Now, it’s the turn of freedom fighters to air their grievances against the “offensive attacks on national leaders”. [Link]

1) Padma Lakshmi may not be the sharpest tool in the shed:

“Padma Lakshmi,” she hoped, might one day be on as many food labels as “Paul Newman”—“a big hero.” Soon there would be Padma jewelry and fashion, “like Jennifer Lopez,” she said, and television and cookware, “like Martha Stewart.” In September, she sealed a major deal with IMG, the sports-and-entertainment marketing giant. “She has a global image and no end of ideas,” said John Steele, a senior V.P., “so we have multiple agreements.” “Like,” Padma said, “Tiger Woods.” How amazing was it that she, the daughter of a single mother who fled India to escape the stigma of divorce, was poised to become the first Indian woman with an American brand—perhaps the first to self-brand. “I’m as American as anyone else,” she has said. (link)

Ah yes, comparing yourself to Martha Stewart, Jennifer Lopez, and Tiger Woods in a single paragraph. Why not also go for P Diddy, to round out your own private Macy’s commercial of utter delusion? (Read on for more wince-worthy quotes…)

2) But she knows how to work the hair:

(Thanks for the tip, KXB. I know you read Vanity Fair for the articles, too.)

I had a relatively traditional Punjabi wedding 4+ years ago; gold was involved. Not a lot, mind you (we’re no Chatwals). But my wife did get some heavy-looking gold necklace-and-earring ‘sets’ from both her own family and my extended family at the time of the wedding. Later, I came to wonder about the point of it all, since the majority of that jewelry simply can’t be worn ever again. (You’d look silly wearing such heavy jewelry at anything but your own wedding.)

Amongst urban Indians, gold is going out of fashion in general:

“My daughters keep saying, ‘Nothing yellow, nothing yellow.’ For them, gold is old,” Bhardwaj said in her living room while sporting three gold rings, bangles, a chain and earrings. A painting of a 16th-century Mughal empress embellished with 24-karat gold decorated the wall.

Her 21-year-old daughter, Sonam Bhardwaj, has had it up to here with gold. “I think it is too gaudy and chunky,” she said with a look of disgust. “Look at my mother.”

In India, where an economic boom has taken hold and tastes are noticeably shifting, Sonam represents one of the newest consumers on the block — a young urban woman who has distanced herself from India’s deep-rooted gold tradition.

Today there are legions of young Indians whose eyes twinkle not at the sight of gold but at the sight of luxury goods. Sonam, for example, is hoping for a new Nokia Nseries phone next month for Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights. She already has a pair of Versace sunglasses and a Guess bag in her collection of fineries. (link)

For me, this transition seems to be an interesting case of a changing economic structure leading to unconscious changes in cultural values and practices. Insofar as most Indians used to be suspicious of banks and credit, gold was the central denomination in life’s most important rituals. New brides were given jewelry in gold partly because the gold itself was a rock-solid economic asset, and I gather the jewelry was usually considered a part of the dowry ‘trousseau’ as well. In a more “liquified” consumer driven system, on the other hand, gold seems dull — static and dusty, like the Gold Standard itself.

Am I speculating too much here, or is there really some sort of unconscious connection between the psychology of the change in fashion and the changing macroeconomic paradigm?

Secondly, does anyone want to defend gold wedding jewelry, and the traditionalism it represents? (Would you rather have gold, diamonds, or something entirely different — say, a Blackberry ‘Pearl’ — as a wedding present?)

Yesterday I received an email from the Sikh Coalition, letting me know that there is an opportunity for a Sikh model (male) in or around New York City:

If you are interested in modeling for Kenneth Cole, here is what they are looking for: A Sikh male, about 25 to 35 years old, who is “attractive.” If this works for you, please e-mail your picture to xyz@xyz.com at the very latest by 10:00 a.m. on Thursday morning [Update: The deadline is passed now]. As an incentive, the person they choose will get a “couple thousand” dollars. The shoot will be half a day, here in the city and will be on either the 18th, 19th, 25th, or 26th of this month.

The email got some funny reactions from friends, including one woman who asked if it was a hoax organized by a very desperate and resourceful New York City sardarni .

Obviously I like the basic impulse - standards of beauty are drawn in such a way as to usually exclude Sikh males: clean shaven, waxed chests, short hair, etc.

I know of only a few cases where Sikh men have tried to make a career of modelling in the west - one was Vikram Chatwal who had a spread in Vogue, another was a caucasian Sikh who modelled with his hair open. Both were from wealthy families, and in neither case did their modelling career last long. This isn’t surprising - if African female fashion models are still struggling, Sikh men will have a far harder time.

Still, for all my enthusiasm, there was a part of this effort which brought me up short:

A casting director, working for Kenneth Cole, is looking for a Sikh male to be part of an advertising campaign that dispels stereotypes about marginalized people in our society.

My response to this was pretty clear: “Dang - why we always gotta be exotic? Can’t we just be you know … gorgeous men without qualification? Why we gotta be marginalized?” It’s better than nothing, but we’re a far way from having our “look” accepted. [More photos after the fold]

I keed. Despite my erstwhile devotion to all things Italian and denim, I do not think that there is ANYTHING which could persuade me to wear this unfortunate schmata— and that’s not because I’m conservative or unwilling to experiment for the sake of fashion.

Kanjeevaram, my beloved, politically incorrect, guilt-inducing Kanjeevaram, is heavy and inflexible enough; so how on earth does this thing WORK? Even if it is one of those new-fangled, “lazy saris” (as my Mother calls them), which is essentially a wrap-around, pre-pleated bottom with pallu attached, it’s still not easy enough.

I’d feel mummified.

Swaddled.

Slow.

Uncomfortable, and reminded of what it feels like to get x-rays, with that heavy protective blanket on top of me. Except at least when I’m getting x-rayed, I’m perfectly still. GAH. Yes, this is freaking me out, man. Must increase the drugs…

Said one fantastically-named blogher:

After color changing saree, pocket saree, it’s now turn for a Denim Silk Saree.

Sri Kumaran Stores, once a leading name in the garments business now seems desperate for market share. So out comes thinking caps (or is it cowboy hats) and innovation for the sake of it. In contrast to the appealing RMKV’s 50,000 color/ reversible saree, the concept as well as communication is a mild put off!

Incidentally, she has a pic of a very public version of this ad; a billboard which has some serendipitous placement, with regards to local greenery. Wait a second, what the— there’s a reversible sari?

My Mother is a disgrace I tell you. A disgrace. I’m always the last to know about such sartorial innovation. How someone who wears no makeup and has never thought to read a fashion magazine bore me, I have no idea. I’m terrified that whatever it is she has will skip a generation though, and that MY daughter will be a fearsome, dreaded rapscallion of a tomboy. Obviously, my Mother is praying for exactly this, as divine revenge for having to put up with me for 32 girly, glittery, glossy years. But I digress (and I must, for truly, it isn’t a post of mine, if I don’t!).

One final note: how the hell is this suitable for elders? Because they don’t move much? Give me a set sari over this isht, any day.

::

Via Maisnon, Lizzie and Yindia Uncut…thanks all. Or, um, in this case, y’all.

I wrote a post this weekend which questioned certain commenters’ assertions regarding how “hot Desi girls seem to end up with White guys”. We discussed that misconception as well as…well, a few dozen other subjects, but that’s natural over the course of 1,349 comments. One sub-thread which I followed avidly involved I-bankers and their (for some) elusive prey: the skinny, hyper-maintained, hot brown girl with stick-straight hair.

Some of you compassionately responded to your banking brethren, when they plaintively admitted that they weren’t sure where to locate their loins’ fondest desire; instructions, right down to locations, days of the week and yes, auspicious times of day (yo, are we brown or are we BROWN) were offered and happily accepted. Much like the original exchange which inspired my post on interracial dating, which is where this comedy of heir-ers was going down, what I noticed was that these weren’t one-off sentiments. To me, that made them difficult to dismiss.

The one word which kept surfacing, repeatedly, insistently, was skinny.

Predictably, evolved mutineers were outraged and immediately broadcasted it; even more predictable than that, the obligatory, “I can’t help it, it’s just what ruins my boxers”- volley occurred, so that there was essentially a stalemate. Around skinny. While all of them pondered if it was okay to come out and say that “skinny” was a requirement, and whether such a requiring was nothing to be ashamed of, I was transfixed by something else which was related, but not discussed.

What did skinny mean in this context?

To some, Kate Moss defines skinny. To others, the woman who is pictured on our left qualifies.

I like to know exactly what I’m offended by, before I gift someone with a new orifice, so I couldn’t get my outrage-on— not until this question was answered. Yes, yes…we should all eschew superficial everything and it’s terrible that we’re judging female books by their covers, but it’s also a gross reality. And I wanted to know how realistic these I(yer) bankers were.

There was another snag—we were discussing Manhattan.

It’s a rarified world and understandably, the benchmarks are different. Everything is relative (and apparently, if you are an Iyengar reading SM, YOU are all relatives…oy, how I wish that I could actually link to relevant comments from MY OWN POST, which would make my attempts at wit successful vs. inscrutable).

In most cities, D.C. included, my 450 sq ft studio is tiny. In Manhattan, my friend is thrilled to have that much space for her ONE-BEDROOM. In most cities, making six figures is awesome. In Manhattan, it barely affords the afore-mentioned shoe-box, rent-wise and that’s if you limit your methods for self-intoxicating to PBR (note: life is too short for PBR, my darlinks). Anyway, if everything is tougher, better, more competitive, more expensive and more EVERYTHING in Manhattan, then…do brown guys expect brown girls to be skinnier, too? And does skinny mean fit? Or just skinny?

My guy friends (the unManhattanites, if you will…I’m not counting the Murray Hill dwellers et al for the purposes of this fluffy post) would line up giddily for a shot at the gorgeous girl above. Would our I(yengar) bankers? I think we have a bit of a vested interest in all this; the majority of the Desi vomen whom I am privileged to know are curvaceous, if they’re out of their teens. For most men, that’s a good thing. My male buddies don’t like straight lines—on the roads they’re about to break laws on or…uh…you know.

Curves are good. Right? Left? Those are definitely curves, on the left.

So, as I said memorably (and almost 1,700 comments ago!), out with it then. Let’s have the truth. What do you want? Is the woman I’ve wrapped this post around zaftig or is she just right? Err, left? You know what I mean. And this ain’t no heteronormative joint. I’ll be the first to tell you that she could inspire me to discover a love that dare not speak its naam. ;) What about you?

Apologies to Billy Idol, but a recent article in the Washington Post about local weddings has me thinking in the abstract (I’m as far from the lavan as I have ever been) about wedding customs and how they change.

The article makes a number of interesting points. It starts by describing how non-desis have discovered the business opportunities involved in brown weddings, such as Sue Harmon who has two white mares specially reserved for baraat duty, or Foxchase Manor which has learned how to handle the havan without setting off all the fire alarms:

“The normal instinct is to blow out the fire when you’re done … But that creates this huge puff of smoke that’s actually much bigger than when the fire is lit. So the key is to keep the fire in a portable container, and then when you’re done, you carry it outside and close all the doors before blowing it out.” With an average of 80 South Asian weddings a year, the staff has had ample opportunity to perfect the technique, he added. [Link]

Still more interesting to me was a story of how other “ethnic” couples have adapted some aspects of desi ceremonies:

Why wear white?

South Asian vendors, meanwhile, are increasingly hearing from non-South Asian couples who want to borrow their customs. Caucasian couples who came across photos of Sood’s creations … have asked her to decorate their weddings in the same shades of maroon and gold. She’s even draped a mandap — the wedding canopy — with kente cloth for an African couple… [Link]

But the bit that really caught my attention was about how ABDs are wanting to have hybrid wedding ceremonies that incorporate aspects of the white weddings they grew up watching on television:

Perhaps most radical, however, is the growing use of whites and ivories in the decorations. “In Indian culture, white signifies mourning,” she said. “It used to be such a taboo for weddings. But now so many brides are demanding it.”

Priti Loungani-Malhotra, 32, a dressmaker based in Arlington County, has even designed a white version of the classic Indian wedding gown, with a mermaid-shaped lengha, or skirt, that would do Vera Wang proud. [Link]

I always thought precisely those two aspects of western weddings - the procession down the isle and the white dress / black tux were boring and dull compared to the circumambulation of holy objects (at least in some desi weddings) and bright red wedding garments. I know I’m a guy, and the long walk down the isle brings attention to the bride, but I just never liked it. For one thing, I don’t like the parts of either culture that view a woman as something to be given from one man (the father) to another (the husband).

How many of you would (or did) seize control of your wedding from your parents and create a wedding ceremony that incorporated aspects of both cultures? Are you all more enamoured of white wedding customs than I am?

Like all lal-blooded desi girls, I’m mildly obsessed with eyebrows.

Like all lal-blooded GIRLS, I’m mildly obsessed with celeb gossip.

Occasionally, the two, they meet.

It is possible that many of you saw photographs of Sienna Miller on the red carpet (there she is! on the right!), doing her damnedest to bring dark and furry back. Well, ABC News was inspired by her “caterpillars”; they have an entire article about what brows signify and the expert whom they quote is none other than Vaishaly Patel, “London’s eyebrow shaper to the stars”.

Vaishaly’s opinion on Sienna’s dark statement?

“Personally I think they look hideous…When you’ve got blond hair the number one rule is not to have black eyebrows. I think they’re a lovely shape but just on the wrong person.”

So, there is a right person.

Take heart, my brown sisters— YOU are that right person!

Bushy is back as far as eyebrows are concerned. So, poor Sienna was just trying to follow fashion. It’s just that not every fashion suits everyone.

Ah, for once, we (and by we, I mean you) win.

For this apparently lowbrow issue, there’s some highbrow analysis. Eyebrows tell a story of cultures, eras and politics. For example, in Iran “un-groomed” is a sign of virginity. The Mexican artist Frida Kahlo sported a unibrow. It became her signature, an expression of independence and feminist strength.

No comment on what brows meant to Bert, and that’s unfortunate.

There is plenty of history-lite, however, including an exploration of whether certain decades inspired severe arches or fierce tufts. Here’s a summary:

-1940s-50s: Eyebrows are shaved off completely, lest a girl seem “masculine”. Owwww.

-1960s: Girls who are boys, who like boys to be girls, who do boys like they’re girls, who do girls like they’re boys— always should be someone you reeeeally love. Free love = furriness.

-1980s: Yuppies are mean and therefore, women over-tweeze. The end.

-Today: Sensitive and enlightened are we. Pluck we do not.

There’s a backlash against the over-plucked brow, according to Jaimineey Patel, manager of a Blink Eyebrow Bar in London. Patel and a phalanx of eyebrow “threaders” are in the trenches, persuading clients to grow back their brows before they gently shape them with twisted thread held between their teeth.

“We always do a thorough consultation,” explained Patel. “We ask them what they want out of their eyebrows.” What can you want from an eyebrow? More than function, apparently. More than a sponge effect to keep sweat out of your eyes.

We want to be as pretty as can be, DUH.

Apparently they frame your face. “To be honest,” confided Patel. “A lot of clients feel they’ve had a facelift because it opens your eyes out.”

I don’t know about a facelift, but I saw someone get their brows done for the first time this weekend, and suddenly, I was aware of the rare color of their irises AND their ridonkulous lashes. Yowza. Best $25 they ever spent, yindeed.

Eyebrows are the new window on the soul. So be careful Sienna, those caterpillars may reveal more than you want us to know.

New?! Not. Desis have known that truth all along. As for Sienna’s caterpillars, like Madonna and Gwen before her, the girl just wants to be down with the brown, obviously.

A few months ago, Shashi Tharoor wrote an essay which contained a “casual observation” about how less and less women in India were wearing saris. Upon hearing about his thoughts, desi women all over the world gifted Shashi with a new orifice, via email, blog, essay, and voodoo doll. A few women, my curmudgeonly mother included, agreed with Tharoor’s lament; like him, they were saddened by the ascent of the Salwar Kameez.

[I do think that Malayalees who are my Mom’s/Shashi’s age are extra vexed by how the sartorial times, they are a-changin’, since they so strongly identify saris as part of the Mallu identity, but more on that later. Or not.]

Tharoor wrote a follow-up piece recently, which I discovered via the news tab. I’ve excerpted the yummier parts for your digestion.

On how graceful and pretty saris are:

For centuries, if not millennia, the alluring garment, all five or six or nine yards of it, has been the defining drape of Indian womanhood. Cotton or silk, Banarasi or Pochampalli, shimmering Kanjeevaram or multi-coloured bandhani, with the pallav draped front-to-back over the left shoulder or in the Gujarati style back-to-front over the right, the sari has stood the test of time, climate and body shape.

Of all the garments yet invented by man (or, not to be too sexist about it, mankind) the sari did most to flatter the wearer. Unlike every other female dress on the planet, the sari could be worn with elegance by women of any age, size or shape: you could never be too fat, too short or too ungainly to look good in a sari. Indeed, if you were stout, or bowlegged, or thick-waisted, nothing concealed those handicaps of nature better than the sari. Women looked good in a sari who could never have got away with appearing in public in a skirt.

Tharoor is less caustic and more rational than my elderly Aunts are, about how much the North is to blame:

So why has this masterpiece of feminine attire begun fading from our streets? On recent visits home to India I have begun to notice fewer and fewer saris in our public places, and practically none in the workplace. The salwar kameez, the trouser and even the Western dress-suit have begun to supplant it everywhere. And this is not just a northern phenomenon, the result of the increasing dominance of our culture by Punjabi-ised folk who think nothing of giving masculine names to their daughters.

At a recent Press conference I addressed in Trivandrum, there were perhaps a dozen women journalists present. Only one was wearing a sari: the rest, all Keralites without exception, were in salwar-kameezes. And when I was crass enough to ask why none of the “young ladies” present wore saris, the one who did modestly suggested that she was no longer very young.

Actually, it’s the youths! And the feminists!

Youth clearly has something to do with it; very few of today’s under-30 women seem to have the patience for draping a sari, and few of them seem to think it suitable for the speed with which they scurry through their lives. (“Try rushing to catch a bus in a sari,” one young lady pointedly remarked, “and you’ll switch to jeans the next day.”)

But there’s also something less utilitarian about their rejection of the sari for daily wear. Today’s younger generation of Indian women seem to associate the garment with an earlier era, a more traditional time when women did not compete on equal terms in a man’s world. Putting on pants, or a Western woman’s suit, or even desi leggings in the former of a salwar, strikes them as more modern.

Freeing their legs to move more briskly than the sari permits is, it seems, a form of liberation; it removes a self-imposed handicap, releasing the wearer from all the cultural assumptions associated with the traditional attire.

I’ve noticed this about brown people, too. We are the last ones to keep it old skool in our “costumes” (Blech. I hate that word. As if I’d wear Kanjeevaram on October 31. Meh.):

I think this is actually a great pity. One of the remarkable aspects of Indian modernity has always been its unwillingness to disown the past; from our nationalists and reformers onwards, we have always asserted that Indians can be modern in ancient garb. Political ideas derived from nineteenth and twentieth-century thinkers have been articulated by men in mundus and dhotis that have not essentially changed since they were first worn two or three thousand years ago. (Statuary from the days of the Indus Valley Civilisation more than four thousand years ago show men draped in waistcloths that Mr Karunanidhi would still be happy to don.)

Gandhiji demonstrated that one did not have to put on a Western suit to challenge the British empire; when criticised by the British Press for calling upon the King in his simple loincloth, the Mahatma mildly observed, “His Majesty was wearing enough clothes for the two of us”. Where a Kemal Ataturk in Turkey banned his menfolk’s traditional fez as a symbol of backwardness and insisted that his compatriots don Western hats, India’s nationalist leaders not only retained their customary headgear, they added the defiantly desi “Gandhi cap” (oddly named, since Gandhiji himself never wore one). Our clothing has always been part of our sense of authenticity.

I REMEMBER being struck, on my first visit to Japan some fifteen years ago, by the ubiquitousness of Western clothing in that Asian country. Every Japanese man and woman in the street, on the subway or in the offices I visited wore suits and skirts and dresses; the kimono and its male equivalent were preserved at home, and brought out only for ceremonial occasions…

What will happen once the generation of women who grew up routinely wearing a sari every day dies out? The warning signs are all around us now. It would be sad indeed if, like the Japanese kimono, the sari becomes a rare and exotic garment in its own land, worn only to temples and weddings.

Find the rest of his essay here. Thoughts?

A few of you have sent in tips about Anand Jon’s latest legal issues. Here are some blockquotes about the dirty and disgraced designer, which I ganked from Reuters:

A celebrity fashion designer already accused of raping or sexually assaulting 12 women and girls who came to him as aspiring models was charged on Tuesday with attacks on six additional victims.

Los Angeles prosecutors have now charged Anand Jon, an Indian-born designer who has appeared on the popular television show “America’s Next Top Model,” with a total of 46 counts involving 18 victims, all with ties to the fashion industry and between the ages of 14 and 27.

Anand Jon Alexander, who was notorious for being a douche to our girl Julie Titus during season 3, is out on bail.

The charges against Jon include forcible rape, sexual battery, sexual penetration by a foreign object, sodomy by use of force, forcible oral copulation, false imprisonment by violence, assault with the intent to commit a felony, lewd act on a child, contributing to the delinquency of a minor and sexual exploitation of a child.

Oh, and as for the title of this post…Jon cut his “trademark” flowing tresses. Seventy percent of you had no idea he even had long hair, and I applaud you for your ignorance. Sepia Mutiny: we read TMZ so you don’t have to.

Just got back home from the long weekend to see the Benetton advert above. It was in my inbox, posted at SAJA’s ad-savvy blog and mais oui, on our news tab, via an Anonymous Tipster who wrote:

Benetton’s Colors of Domestic Violence campaign features desi survivor? On the one hand, nice effort. On the other: color-coordinating the bruises with the sweaters? Tasteless.

I don’t know if the woman is a DV survivor or a model, but I think the image is opinion-provoking. I want to know how many of you agree with the nameless mutineer who had mixed feelings about the execution of a very important public service announcement. As a DV witness and survivor, I think anything which draws pain out in to the light where it can be confronted is a good thing.

Domestic violence is a concept in constant rotation on this blog; I can grimly recall how many of you have come forward to reveal in our comments section how you have experienced DV yourselves, either directly or indirectly. That’s not to say that this is a horror we brown have a monopoly on by any means; to that end, Benetton does have ads with other “bruised” women of various ethnicities, which you can see here.

::

On a less serious tangent: how does this make you feel about Benetton? Positive, negative, no change? Is this just more un(desi)red P.R. stunting?

I’ve worn and loved them since back in the day (16 years!) so I’m a bit biased, especially since they make my current favorite little black dress (worn to the infamous man-harem meetup, no less), but I think that even if I didn’t already sweat those United Colors, I’d be positively disposed towards a brand which tried to address DV in such an unflinching fashion. What about you?

::

THIS IS NOT A BENETTON AD CAMPAIGN! Not only did one of you direct us to a Salon blurb about this intriguing development, the original link submitted to our news tab had the following statement in its comments section:

Dear All,
this is NOT a United Colors of Benetton advertising campaign. Please don’t be deceived, see the official Benetton Group website www.benettongroup.com

Best regards,
Federico Sartor

Direttore Stampa e Comunicazione Istituzionale
Benetton Group
Tel. 39 0422 519036
Fax 39 0422 519930
www.benettongroup.com/press
www.benettonpress.mobi

Curiouser and curiouser…

Sometimes, you mutineers will see a story which you practically demand we post. After New York Magazine’s “The Look Book” slyly dissed and dismissed a brownie who works in Private Equity who emphasized,

“I love to consume. Consuming is my specialty.”

…some of you started screeching louder than the Howler monkeys in the bunker—and that’s saying a LOT.

Natasha Mitra (r) was interviewed by Amy Larocca and though I was also left smirking at the catty aftermath, I immediately heard the diminutive angel on my shoulder remind me that we don’t know how many questions were asked and then not included, whether Mitra’s words were edited to paint her a certain way, etc.

Having typed that, if my little sister sounded like this, I’d beat her with my red Ferragamo loafer. Not that there’s anything wrong with…sounding…like…this. ;)

Such big accessories!

My bag was a really special purchase. I work with this woman at Louis Vuitton—she picks things out for me, sends pictures, and tells me to pick what I like. She called one day and was like, “I picked a bag for you, and I’m sending it to your house because I know you’re going to love it.” I think it’s called the Stratus.

How old are you?

I’m 26.

Was the bag expensive?

Yes—about $3,500. I guess a lot of craftsmanship goes into it. Accessories for me are the key. I have about twenty bags, and I don’t know how many shoes. But they’re Vuitton, they’re Versace, they’re Gucci, and they’re Dior.

And your sunglasses?

They’re D&G. I was really excited to find them. They’re wild and crazy and different.

What do you do for a living?

I work in private equity. I love the sector that I work in, which is the consumer and retail group. It’s an area that I’m passionate about. I love to consume. Consuming is my specialty.

You picked the right career.

I’m going to Harvard Business School in September. Moving is definitely going to be the most difficult part of the experience.

Thoughts? After reading some of your emails, I’m tempted to respond with a “Tell us what you REALLY think”, but I’m certain you will already do that. I also look forward to the inevitable, “I know her, and, and—” which will appear below at some point. TWO DEGREES of separation, people. The fact that we couldn’t prove it with two random desi models doesn’t mean the theory is invalid, aight?

[NB: Men, small children and intellectuals- pretend to look elsewhere and feign a lack of interest, even though I know you’re going to read every esoteric word.]

Well-maintained humans, I have a problem.

I hate my tweezers.

I have every right to, they came in one of those awful pre-filled manicure kits that no one deserves to receive for Chrismukkah, no matter how evil they’ve been. I have been able to “get by” because I only used them once in a while. That’s why I never really noticed how worthless they are. How is this possible, you wonder incredulously? I have a shameful secret which is so hideous, none dare to believe it once it is revealed.

I have no eyebrows.

No, I didn’t over-tweeze like we all did when we were eleven. I didn’t lose them in an unfortunate smelting accident, nor did I singe them off while learning how to use that stove thingy with the…fire…and stuff. Uh-huh, I was born with no eyebrows, courtesy of my dear Father’s genetics, though considering everything else he gave me, I guess I’d be an ungrateful little shit if I dwell on this for too long.

My father had sparse eyebrows but he also started to grey at 30, so by the time I could even notice his brows, he was in his early 40s. Bare as they were, white hair on dark brown skin is ultra-obvious, so he wasn’t affected by his browlessness. I on the other hand, have had my chin grabbed and my face ruthlessly examined by Auntie after Auntie, who if I’m lucky, muttered something about how I once looked a bit like Hema Malini before I got all black and if I’m REALLY lucky…well, they declare something about how a face is useless unless the eyes are beautiful and the eyes, they are the worthless as the Manolo would say, without the brows. “Sho! Kashtam. No wonder you aren’t married.”

So I haven’t had to use tweezers all that much and whenever I did, I’d just borrow my Mom’s because hers worked. But now…I don’t know if mine have gone dull or if my hand-eye coordination is poo; they don’t grip a thing. I just can’t see the point of getting my brows “done”, not when they barely grow in the first place. In the picture you see above, which was taken during the only trip to Devon Avenue I’ve ever made, I got threaded.

Why? I was caught up in the brownosity of it all; Devon Avenue seemed way more desi than University Avenue, though it wasn’t quite Jackson Heights. After buying a new sari and bangles, eating fantastic chaat and drinking far too much good stuff, I wanted to experience the only part of the street I hadn’t thus far— the beauty parlors. Much like the first time my awe-stricken kundi trudged through Queens, I was amazed at the fact that there were salons that were staffed with and served just desis; as a righteous and deprived thenga, I found such a concept inconceivable.

So, in I went and when I requested getting my brows threaded, the woman pointedly asked, “Why?”. “Please,” I implored “I have to go to an engagement in two hours!” and she shrugged. After all, an idiot and her rupees are soon threaded. And a few seconds after this shot was taken, she stood back and announced, “done!”

I had felt a little something and noticed no discernable difference, but I was tickled anyway. Threaded! I got threaded! I finally, fleetingly felt at one with the South Asian “experience”.

So, unless it’s an adventure in beauty like that was, I’m not getting my brows done and that is why I need new tweezers. Now quit holding out on me— what do YOU use? Share your wisdom, so that other clueless fur balls will find it when they google this embarrassing topic in the years to come. ;)

Sanjaya-kutta,

Why?

You make it so hard to cheer you on, when you do ugly things with your pretty, pretty tresses. It’s just not okay. At all. Don’t you care about the greater desi community? How will THEY be affected by your reckless decision to have bad hair? You represent our hopes and assimilative aspirations— be careful out there. We’re counting on you and if you fail, we will never forgive you. Ever. Unless you go to medical school.

Sanjaya Malakar performed “Bath Water.” Randy Jackson said “Listen, the hairdo is definitely interesting. I like the kind of Mohawk look.” Paula Abdul said “To watch it on stage and not go for it, it’s kind of like we’re going ah, come on.“ Simon Cowell said “I presume there was no mirror in your dressing room tonight.” Sanjaya replied “You’re just jealous that you couldn’t pull it off.” Simon said “I couldn’t I agree. Sanjaya, I don’t think it matters anymore what we say, actually. I genuinely don’t. I think you are in your own universe and if people like you, good luck.” [linkosity]

Still, I wish you only the best— I just do so with my eyes closed, until someone tells me it’s safe to open them again.

Sanjaya zindabad,

A K K A

Shilpa Shetty blah blah racism blah reality show winner blah. ;)

…Shilpa was in London to meet Elizabeth II at Commonweath Day on Monday, celebrated at Westminster Abbey.

The actress delivered a speech on — you guessed it — racism.

Shilpa — reportedly wearing an intricate purple velvet Tarun Tahiliani sherwani — curtseyed before the Queen, and then almost slipped in her high heels. Apparently Prince Philip smilingly told her to be careful about the shoes, averting the fall. [linkypoo]

In other news, yesterday, Pakistan should have stuck with spinners, but decided otherwise. ;)

In other other news, Since I don’t talk cricket walk cricket and laugh cricket, I have no clue what the previous statement involving Pakistan means. I’m just shamelessly flirting with all you cricket-fiends.

Finally, for those of you who might be wondering why on earth I posted this if I was obviously sooo not interested in it, it’s really just because I thought sherwanis were for boys and I wanted to consult my kitchen cabinet. Well?

Apparently the only surprise about Deepa Mehta’s Water losing out on the Best Foreign Film award last night was that the eventual winner wasn’t Pan’s Labyrinth, the consensus favorite, but rather The Lives of Others, by an impossibly tall German director with an impossibly aristocratic Prussian name. So there’s little gnashing of teeth or rending of garments in the Indian press today, simply matter-of-fact recognition that “India’s Oscar jinx” carries on. It’s also apparently a known fact (I never get to the movies, so I’m just repeating what I read) that the entire field for the foreign-film award was extremely strong. So no injustice here any way you cut it.

However, I am rather exercised at the Monday morning snub from the newspaper round-ups of red carpet fashion, which roundly ignore the gorgeous heirloom gold-threaded Banarasi sari in which Mehta graced the ceremony. Los Angeles Times, New York Times — no one paid the slightest notice, positive or negative, to the passage across the red carpet of the Water crew. Even my mellow Hank Stuever in the Washington Post — political, worldly, and queer as the proverbial three-dollar bill — ignored the desi contingent, his confessed ogling of Ryan Gosling affording John Abraham no residual love.

Oh well. Perhaps it’s all for the best that our peoples passed by under the radar, considering the standard-issue snark that’s become de rigueur in such coverage. Or perhaps coverage was the point — body coverage, that is: with so much exposed bosom and leg to take in — let alone Jack Nicholson’s creepily depilated dome — those who took cover in dignified, discreet outfits necessarily condemned themselves to oblivion in the morning news.

Deepa could have joined the flesh parade, had she wanted to match up against Meryl Streep and Helen Mirren in the “do they still got it?” division, a bit of a rigged fixture for a director against two actresses. The dresses were there for the wearing, but the sista had a much better plan:

They must have been throwing clothes at Mehta once the nominations were announced.

“Yes, they were,” she admits. “Chanel, Armani, Prada etc. … approached me. `No, thank you. I’m wearing my mother’s sari.’ For one thing, I’ll never wear a dress in my life: I’m more blue jeans and cargo pants. It was just a question of what sari.”

Her mother’s sari was part of her trousseau.

“My paternal grandmother gave it to my mom when she got married,” she recalls. “It’s gold but because it is so old (from the ’40s), it’s burnished. It’s very subtle. The gold thread is a weave not done anymore. It’s gorgeous and it’s personal. It’s Mom’s.

“And Bulgari wanted to do my jewellery. But I’ll wear my antique Indian jewellery because it goes with the sari.”

Read the full, friendly feature from the Toronto Star here. As for the Oscars, if you’re feeling the pain of desi exclusion, the Economic Times offers you here a kind of consolation.

Here’s a point-counterpoint exchange on that oldie-but-goodie, the Image of the Community:

“Your definition of ethical or moral may differ from my definition and from everyone else’s for that matter. It does take guts to do what these people have done and they are the new generation and the ideals they have are different from your generation, which luckily is passing on. I do not think by having this calendar out there, it will hurt our reputation as desis…”

“Please, please do not go there. The reason we Indians are held in high regard in America is because we are seen as law-abiding citizens, diligent professionals and model immigrants. Now if we develop and market trashy calendars and magazines, what will our image be in five years? It will be downhill from hereon.”

Those are two commenters on an interview of Saroosh Gull, publisher of DesiClub.com, by Arun Venugopal for the SAJA website. Now the last time we heard from DesiClub.com here at SM, it had to do with Paris Hilton, sorority jokes, and an Indian character called “Poo Poo,” so you can see what direction we’re headed in here.

Gull’s new product on the market is a bikini calendar of “Sexy South Asian Girls of 2007.” It came out last week and there are launch parties taking place in various cities for the next few weeks. (Here’s a sample of the advertising.) Something called Bibi Magazine is also involved, so perhaps we’re meant to understand that the bibi-saabs are giving their blessing, but you might have a different opinion when you see the product. Connoisseurs of the genre will also note the blend of representational approaches taken from white and black girlie pubs, although all the models but one are rather light skinned, surprise surprise. The text seems to follow the standard format with models listing their hobbies (which include “bubble baths,” “wearing stilettos,” “eating cupcakes,” “partying,” and “shopping, shopping and more shopping”) and aspirations (similar).

Anyway, here’s a bit of Arun’s interview with Saroosh Gull:

These women - how did you find them?

We found all of our models by doing a model search on our site, DesiClub.com, and by utilizing our relationships with key players in the South Asian-American scene. It wasn’t easy finding 12 Desi girls who wanted to pose in Bikinis, but we actually found 17, of which only 12 made it to the calendar.

Given that this is a desi calendar, you could’ve dressed your models in, say, salwar kameez. But you chose bikinis instead. Why?

I don’t think anyone wants to see South Asian models in salwar kameez, that’s been killed and killed again by the existing fashion outlets, who do nothing but the same thing over and over again. That was also part of the reason for doing what we did, to showcase South Asian women in a way that they have never been shown before. It puts a whole new perspective on South Asian-Americans being in the mainstream and not repeating the cliched Indian fashion look of saris and salwar kameez - not that there is anything wrong with that but we wanted to project an American look and that is what we accomplished.

Elsewhere, in the project’s press release, Gull says this:

..our main objective in producing this calendar was to showcase the beauty of South Asian women and to project an image to the mainstream market that South Asian women are just as “American,” being beautiful, attractive and capable in the mainstream fashion and modelling world as Latinas, Blacks, Whites and other Asians, if not more so. By advancing with this agenda, we are doing something that has never been done before, which makes this entire project and the impact it will have truly ground breaking.

So he’s actually raising the community’s image. You be the judge. Respectful comments only, please.

The little black dress (actually a long black dress) worn by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s has just been auctioned off for a record $924,588 dollars at Christies in London, on Tuesday. This was roughly six times the highest estimate for the amount of money that the dress would bring in.

The dress was designed by Givenchy, who later donated it for a sale to help the famous “City of Joy” charity in Calcutta:

The dress, an iconic piece of cinematic history, was designed by Hubert de Givenchy, who became Hepburn’s life-long friend in 1953. He donated the dress to Dominic Lapierre, founder of the charity City of Joy Aid, which helps India’s poor…

Hepburn, who died in 1993, devoted much of her time in her later life to her role as Ambassador for UNICEF, the United Nations Children’s Fund.

City of Joy Aid is supporting the work of more than 1,000 social workers, doctors, nurses, therapists and educators in India, helping more than four million sufferers of tuberculosis, cholera and leprosy. [Link]

Givenchy made 3 such dresses for Hepburn - the other two are in museums. The charity was founded by novelist Dominique Lapierre who wrote a book of the same name which later became a movie starring the incomparable Om Puri and also Patrick Swayze.

Hepburn was one classy dame. Her commitment to helping others lives on long after she’s dead and gone.

Inspired by Anna and Sin, I thought that I would try my hand at fashion criticism. But where to start? I’m straight, and hardly fashion forward. I needed somebody who was in greater need of assistance than myself somebody like … Prabhakaran. While I may not be able to wage a decades long war against the government in Colombo, and I don’t have a cult of personality of my own, I can certainly dress better than him. [Yeah, I’m brave, blogging behind an anonymous handle and making fun of the head of the Tamil Tigers.]

So, ‘Tamil Eezha Desiya Thalaivar’ (how could I call him Thambi?) Velupillai, if you’re listening, here’s what I learned from reading GQ in the gym:

1. Stocky guys should not wear horizontal stripes. And what’s with the camo tiger stripes? That was never in.
2. Avoid mixing different kinds of stripes. For example, don’t have a sunburst coming out of your head while wearing a hat and shirt with the aforementioned camo tiger stripes.
3. While hipster, ironic, trucker caps were in a few seasons ago, they’re not any more. And a thundercats type logo cap is only appropriate for a press conference if you’re Ashton Kutcher.
4. If you have to have a big grimacing cat on your flag, don’t stand in such a way as to make it seem like the cat is taking a big bite out of your arm. It’s distracting, although not as distracting as the camo tiger stripes or the sunburst coming out of your head.
5. Belts belong close to your waist level, not up above your navel. And a wide belt like that, worn so high? It makes you look fat. Also, try to match your belt with your shoes.
6. Don’t wear a pistol under your armpit. It makes it harder to draw, and leaves the butt smelling … like armpit.
7. Cyanide necklaces are out this season.
8. Don’t shoot the messenger. Or blow him to smithereens.

More images of the man on the Tiger webpage.

Ennis and I swapped a few e-mails the other day, in which, in-between soliciting my opinions on Begum Nawazish Ali and expressing a fear of pigeon-holing me, he offered up some ideas of stuff to talk about—politics, the whole “war on terror”, fashion, South Asian politics, that sort of thing.

Naturally, having all the depth of a particularly shallow puddle, I’ve opted to go with fashion.

Fashion, or what passes for it in Pakistan, really pisses me off. Of course, that doesn’t mean that I don’t somehow find myself at least marginally involved with it, but in the years since I’ve been back, it’s taken on this quasi-mystical status as an “industry”, with a mythical “council” comprising…well, I’m not quite sure who’s on the council at present, but I’m going to go with “senior”, “established”, and/or “reputed” designers, since those are generally the terms that seem to be kosher.

Now, at the risk of back-tracking, let me just mention for the record that I know most of the designer community in Pakistan. It’s all a bit of the little pink mafia, with most designers either being gay men or straight women (I’m sorry, they’re not always gay, some of them are “bisexual”, or “bi-curious” snort; I’ve yet to meet a larger group of individuals who have managed to make what they describe as a “phase” last well over a decade or two). And then the photographers, stylists, event managers and “choreographers” all tend to fall into the same gay man/straight woman alliance, so when you combine the somewhat incestuous socialising with a severely limited pool, and then further refine it into an industry dominated by fags and their hags, it’s not hard to meet them all—and be declared their new best friend—within a matter of hours. And while I’ll admit that there’s a certain amount of glitz to the whole thing, to socialising with the crowd that everyone knows (of) and being dragged from one party to another, the realisation that it’s tinsel and not actual stardust comes rather rapidly.

I know, what a shocker, right? Fashion, shallow and superficial? Never!

Let it go down in The Historical Archives of the Mutinous that I have officially posted way too many Paris Hilton references in this Mutiny-Wallah stint for my own good. But, gosh darn it, she makes it so easy!

The 25-year-old heiress to the Hilton hotel fortune will shoot for her friend, Anand Jon, an American fashion designer of Indian descent who is introducing a line of high-end evening wear for India's stylish elite.

"For her, India is the land of exotica and beauty. In fact, her response was: 'I finally get to visit the exotic'. She loves Indian culture and the Indian influence on clothes," he said. [link]

Ugh. She used the 'E' word. Ironically, as I had posted earlier, even though we'll be able to see her model clothes for India's stylish elite, they still cannot watch her music video on TV....

In August, Indian censors issued an "Adult" certification -- which means it cannot be broadcast on any TV channel -- for the blonde socialite's new music video "Stars Are Blind."

Although she hasn't visited the country before, Hilton is well known in trendy Indian social circles and CD copies of a notorious sex romp involving her and an ex-flame can be bought locally for as little as $2. [link]

Who is this desi man that runs in Hilton's party circuit? First and foremost, he's a blogger. Anand Jon is also a famous 'American fashion designer of Indian descent,' though a quick glance through his Spring 2007 collection didn't exactly blow my LA-fashionista-mind. Maybe if Paris Hilton's wearing it, or one of 'India's stylish elite,' it would be more appealing...? Frankly, I find the gratuitous use of the word 'exotic' in describing his fashion as well as without seeing a brown skinned woman wearing his gear on his catwalk a little irksome.

Mr. Jon developed a passion for metals and fabrics growing up in South India, under the tutelage of master artisans and his grandmother, one of the most influential women in his life. During these formative years, his deep involvement in the Yogic disciplines set a metaphysical yet playful flavor to all of his creations. Anand Jon often pays homage to his heritage, while also embracing the cosmopolitan vibe of New York City and the raging progress of modern technology.

We can be sure that of one thing- that with Brangelina in India this year, and Paris Hilton going to Mumbai next year, that the Indian paparazzi are hitting jackpot on the tabloid photo front. I wonder if all this means Paris Hilton post-India will get inspired to add 'exotic Hindu beats' on her next album release... I can hardly wait.

Oy, I need to start having the intern go through your submissions. After innocently clicking “original” Sonia’s news tip about a Halloween costume she had seen, I clawed my big Mallu eyes out, AGAIN at all the inappropriateness I found. Owwww. Look for yourself, if you dare. ——>

Recently, I mentioned to mutineer SJM that since he’s moving back to DC and I have a costume in mind, we should plan to do something fun for St. Pumpkin’s day, even if all we can come up with is adding to the cluster#^@% which is Georgetown on Halloween. The black and orange holiday is huge around here. Thousands converge on M st, in costumes both quotidian and cunning. This pink outfit merits neither of those words; this is plain annoying. If I see someone wearing the schmata on the right on the same street as my beleaguered, yet beloved Amma’s Vegetarian, I might have to rip off my bamboo earrings (at least two pair), hand Salil my Fendi bag (but keep my bad attitude) and invoke the “Manish Vij-Anti-Exoticism” law of 2005 as I beat a kutthi down.

From the website which sells this…thing:

Adult Hindu Costumes - This Adult Hindu Goddess Costume includes a Hindu Goddess costume satin coined top, wrap skirt, Hindu Goddess costume chiffon drape & coined headpiece. The Hindu Goddess Costume is available in Womens Standard.

I know I don’t have to ask you to correct me if I’m wrong, but when coins are used like that, isn’t it more of a belly dancing thing? Or also likely, a case of mixing up continents? When my little sister and I were young, we learned and performed Greek folk dances in authentic outfits which were lovingly made by all the Grandmothers at our church to resemble classic costumes of Crete, Macedonia, Peloponnesos et al…some of those ensembles had coin headdresses and trim similar to what you see on our…um…Hindu Goddess here. It’s like they weren’t even TRYING to exoticize accurately. Sheesh.

But who cares about that— it’s on sale! Click here and you can save 20% by purchasing your Hindu Goddess Costume now (don’t forget to wear it with the retch-inducing nude pantyhose). For just under $32, you, too, can wear an outfit even Diwali Barbie wouldn’t touch. The best part? My wrath and beat down are FREE, especially if Mr. Walker is my other escort for the night.

You know how sometimes you just get … browned out to the point where everything you see has some sort of desi connection? Well, it happens to those not of the subcontinent as well. Here’s what happened to Saheli’s friend ToastyKen:

Not Aishwarya

While I was driving, I caught a glimpse of this Gap ad in a bus shelter. “DESI(RED).” I immediately assumed it was pun on the words “desired” and “desi”. I only got a brief look as I sped by, so I figured it was a Desi model in the picture. (“Was that Aishwarya Rai?”)

“Hm,” I thought. “I didn’t realize the word ‘Desi’ was so mainstream now. Maybe they’re trying to project a multicultural marketing message or something?” But I didn’t really think that hard about it. [Link]

Of course, it’s not Aishwarya, it’s Penelope Cruz. And it’s neither an appeal for brownbucks nor a critique of socialist influences in “I love Lucy”, it’s part of the new (product)red branding exercise / fundraiser “designed to Help Eliminate AIDS in Africa.” It has nothing to do with us, even though we like to imagine that everything does. It’s purely a koinkydink.

As an aside, while I often find myself defending Bono, in this case I agree with the conservative critic Michael Medved’s opinion of the campaign (assuming he’s correct):

… [Medved] called the campaign a “scam” because, he wrote, it is merely an excuse for companies “to jack up their prices on ordinary merchandise to ridiculous levels, and not all the difference in price is actually going to the charity…” [Link]

There’s a powerful scene in “Bamboozled,” Spike Lee’s most difficult and underappreciated movie, in which the street-actor characters played by Savion Glover and Tommy Davidson, having been recruited into a scheme that involves staging a deliberately outrageous, racist pilot for a TV show, find themselves in the dressing room applying blackface. The camera lingers as the cork burns and the grease paint is prepared, and pulls back to show us the characters as they see themselves in the mirror, watching their natural brown hues turn to a shiny, oily black.

Blackface was both insult and injury. Used by white actors, it offered literal cover for the most offensive caricature; used by black actors, it represented a negation of oneself that was demanded to earn a living as a performer, and worse, the prerequisite of dehumanization in order to represent those portrayed as one’s own community, one’s own self. More than any law or repressive policy, it sent the message that black people were simply not human.

Over the weekend, I was shown a tube of grease paint of a make used back in the blackface heyday. A small, banal object, yet one invested with so much and so troubling a meaning. Well it turns out that just a couple of days earlier, the British daily The Independent ran this front-page image in honor of its “Africa issue” with half of the day’s revenues to help fight AIDS on the continent. The depiction is of Kate Moss, the decidedly non-black British fashion model and alleged onetime cocaine/heroin fiend, not only blackened but Blackened — bigger lips, thicker brows, fleshier cheeks. “NOT A FASHION STATEMENT,” the headline blares, while an inset on the sidebar promises a poster of the image inside.

Here’s a British term: BOLLOCKS! That’s also the view of Sunny from Asians in Media and Pickled Politics, our sister-from-another-mother site from across the pond, who puts it succinctly:

Could they not find a black model to represent Africa?

A particularly typical example of liberal guilt “we-feel-sorry-for-you” racism. You see they would have liked to to put a black model on the front but she just would not have sold as many copies. So they used a druggie.

It would have been better for the Indy to not even bother.

Two things are going to happen here that you never imagined you would see coming from me. One has already happened. Yes, I did in fact quote Crazytown in the title of this post. The second? I am writing a post about Fashion! Let me transport you fabulous readers to Fashion Week in London. In particular, I want to focus your attention on the hottest Indian designer in town: Manish Arora. Here is a snippet (with pictures) from last year’s Fashion Week:

As the special guest of the British Fashion Council, Delhi-based designer Manish Arora was undoubtedly under some pressure to make his mark on London Fashion Week. Although on of India’s best loved designers - his shows are nigh impossible to squeeze into - over here he’s the new boy and performing to an audience which is undoubtedly harder to please.

He seemed to pull it off. Although more costume than fashion, he gave us a spectacle that won’t be easy to forget. Models, who looked like they’d spent too much time at the village fete face-painting stall, came out in frou frou skirts buoyed by layers of coloured netting. Indian motifs and imagers covered the surface of bright fabrics, vying for position with gold embroidery, tassles and metallic discs. [Link]

So how would Manish top the buzz he created last year? How would he make his gorgeous models memorable to all the buyers? One word. Butterflies.

Damn girl. Your butt-is-err-fly!

Back in the day, I had an Italian co-worker who had the oh-so-Italian name “Enzo” coupled with the deadly, oh-so-Italian accent. The amazing thing about Enzo was that it didn’t matter one bit what was actually coming out of his mouth - the ladies in the office always had the same swooning reaction, “oh Enzo, say ‘operating system’ again. It sounds so sexy.”

Blech.

Despite having a pretty American accent myself (with an occasional touch of TX), I knew enough about how the world worked to know that one day, just once, I’d love to hear women swoon at the Indian accent. And on that day, my proverbial ship would finally come in and perhaps a few perceived ethnic slights would be righted. But, as Russell Peters once quipped, the primary thing the Indian accent is good for is cutting the tension.“The primary thing the Indian accent is good for is cutting the tension.”

The lesson? Enzo’s Italian accent evoked the exotic beauty, power and grace of a Ferrari the same way DesiTalk brought forth the rugged manliness of Apu.

So, the following commercial didn’t really move my meter much. TV Junkie that I am, I’ve usually got the boob tube on in the background while working. And, as a result, I probably get more than my fair share of 30second pop culture. So like many of you, I’ve come across a series of TV commercials for L’Oreal Cosmetics starring none other than our own Aishwarya Rai…

A coworker sent me a link to this toy (thanks, Abi!) and I can’t resist posting it, if only because I wonder how much of “us” Mattel got right and wrong. From Barbie Collector (where it’s cheaper, if you’re about to make some little girl or boy really happy by buying it for them):

The most important and magical festival celebrated in India is Diwali. Homes are decorated with marigolds and mango leaves, thousands of oil diyas or lamps are lit as auspicious symbols of good luck, and everyone enjoys sweets to the sound of firecrackers and revelers.

Diwali™ Barbie® doll wears a traditional teal sari with golden detailing, a lovely pink shawl wrap, and exotic-style jewelry. The final detail is a bindi on the forehead—a jewel or a mark worn by Hindu women.

Mango leaves? Really? Since I’m a 2nd Gen (and a Syriani Christiani) penne I’m not going to claim that I know much about either that or the festival of lights, but I do have an opinion on Barbie’s ethnic dress. I don’t think that is a “traditional sari”. Perhaps it’s half-of-one? Honestly, I think it’s more of a lehnga, since I’ve never worn a duppata with my very traditional (can it get more old skool than kanjeevaram?) outfits.

I was curious about the “exotic” jewelry so I started fruitlessly looking up words after AIMing an equally clueless friend who insisted that the chain and pendant which decorates Barbie’s hair is called a “tikka”. I associate this word with murgh, but whatevs. After reading an entry in Stephen Colbert’s favorite online resource, I was concomitantly disagreeing with her and picturing 55 word nanofiction written by Jai. Here’s what was so evocative:

* When Rajput men married, they are said to have cut their thumb on their sword and applied a tikka of their own blood to their brides. This custom evoked the Rajput values of courage and indifference to pain.

…I can see Sophia’s thigh!






Brimful brings yet ANOTHER brown fugging to our attention! This time, the fuggee is Sophia Hyatt Hayat, whom I am not so familiar with…but like I said before, that’s irrelevant when it comes to a good fugging. It’s totally possible to fug someone you don’t know. Sometimes, it’s even better. Anonymous fugging, if you will. Ah, I’ll stop fugging with you.

Unlike the previously blogged fuggings, this time Jessica was on top of things:

One of my basic rules of thumb is that, whatever you wear, you should make sure that it a) fits and b) covers your bits.

Solid.

And I mean that in the most fundamental way: this is not a screed against halter tops or mini-skirts or even (for once) shorts. I just mean that a mantilla is not a gown, and no one really wants to see your panties.

Stop hey, what’s that sound, everybody look what’s goin’ down…all us South Asians look alike, yaar. Thus, like Matthew Sweet once crooned, “Baby, we’re the same.”

This dress does not look alluring, nor does it make our Sexy Indian Hottie look like a mysterious flamenco dancer, or even like a contender for a role in Zorro 3: Zeta-Jones Doesn’t Do Straight To Video. It makes her look like she forgot part of her outfit.

As my beloved Father would have barked at Ms. Hayat, “GET A PETTICOAT!”

Via our news tab, mutineer Rupa alerts us to this week’s SECOND sepia fugging on the popular (and brutal) Go Fug Yourself blog. While I don’t necessarily agree with Heather’s review of pretty Parminder, I think the girls at GFY are usually spot-on with their wit and crit.

Rupa’s tip was about Mindy Kaling, someone whom I will admit I don’t know much about because she’s on NBC’s lesser version of The Office, a show I have never been able to sit through for an entire episode. No matter. The genius of GFY is its focus on the outfit. I don’t need to be an Office-fan to grasp THAT. Or not grasp it, as is the case here…what is up with those boots?

From the knees up, she looks adorable, all set for a divine NBC-Universal booze cruise of clenched-teeth joy, where every toast to their wonderful fall schedule comes with paranoia from Jeff Zucker that people will figure out they’ve swapped the costly champagne and top-shelf liquor with well booze and sparkling cider.

But her shoes are pure “local theater revival of Xanadu.” They look like she stapled wallpaper scraps to her ankles.

They actually look like chausses to me, but vatewer. Like expert Fugger Heather, I dig everything else she’s got going on, too. Her skin is glow-y, little black dresses are always money and the coral-red beads look great on her. But the boots…oy.

A few days ago, Brimful sent us the other GFY-related news item about Parminder Nagra getting fugged. In a delightful bit of connectivity, if you search SM for Mindy Kaling, Brimful’s comment about her here is one of two results you’ll find. If you can spin some sort of conspiracy theory out of that and the fact that both fuggees are on NBC shows, bring it. ;)

On to Parminder, specifically what GFY had to say about HER threads, since Fugger Heather and I already agree on the following:

Parminder Nagra is gorgeous.

Word. Where’s the “but”?

Which is why I wish heartily that she hadn’t gone and upholstered herself…Her body looks tense, as if she’s uncomfortable or uneasy in this confusing crosshatched fabric-store nightmare. I suspect it’s because no one expects the Spanish Inquisition — you have to maintain constant vigilence when you’re dressed as something resembling a Comfy Chair, because you risk being dragged unexpectedly into their brand of comfortable torture. From there it’s a short slide down to poking some old woman with the soft cushions and wondering, “How did this become my life?”

Owie. I don’t think she looks UPHOLSTERED, but I might be a little biased; I love green, plaid and wrap-dresses, so put Parminder Nagra in all of the above and I’m rather content. I know, it’s not her best look but if this is what “fugly” means…

fug•ly (adj.)

frightfully ugly; of or pertaining to something beyond the boundaries of normal unattractiveness. Ex: “That ‘Kabbalists Do It Better’ trucker hat is fugly.”

…in that picture, she’s not fugly to me. :) Your thoughts?

My favorite fashion writer, Robin Givhan of the Washington Post, has a story on the desi entrepreneur who has devoted his life to solving the following problem:

“I see a guy with a great suit on and nasty socks, I think, ‘Come on, finish the job!’” he says.

Great suit, nasty socks: truly one of the great fashion missteps of our time and one that many of our gentlemen readers will surely recognize. You know the feeling when you’re getting ready for a big meeting and realize all you have is holey, lumpy or mismatched socks? Well, Vivek Nagrani is here to help, at a mere $125 a pair. Hey, that’s only $62.50 per sock!

Nagrani makes a “Gatsby” sock with the image of a woman sipping a martini, strategically resting along a man’s Achilles’ tendon. “She’s holding him up,” he explains. Another pair of socks named “Luther” have a floral pattern winding up the inside of the calf; the flowers are revealed only when a man sits down and crosses his legs. He named another pair of socks “Brian,” after a customer who is attached to his dog Bottle Cap. The socks have stylized paw prints all over them.

You can read all about Nagrani in Givhan’s article. Meanwhile, I took a look at his corporate website, to learn more about this captain of industry, and found this description of the Nagrani brand:

The V.K. Nagrani label is privileged to create products for the diplomatic, scientific, military, artisanal and financial elite. With no surprise, men who define themselves by their distinct character rather than their possessions remain our most loyal customers and become our revered friends. Whether named by collection or by connoisseur, we grace such men of influence with our name. After all, the spirit of V.K. Nagrani is a sine qua non of any depiction of the aristocracy, the bourgeoisie or, quite simply, a life of luxury and elegance.

The day you see the “Churchill” — “lemon yellow with stripes of coco and blue” — haughtily peeking out beneath the impeccable cuff of my bespoke pantaloons, you’ll know that I no longer have time for plebeians like you.

I’m kind of tired of reading comments right now. Instead, I am going to put up some pictures. When lots of big words make my head spin I like retreating to pictures. The first one is the cover of Time Magazine from this week:

The second picture is from this t-shirt titled “Cowboys and Indians” that an SM reader tipped us off to:

“Cowboys and Indians”

In the dimly-lit opium den that is my head, I thought these two pictures kind of went together given the evolving geopolitical situation.

When I was in India last, I acquired a new pet peeve, one that irritates me far more than it should:

In the USA, sure, we’re different, we’re quaint, we’re ethnic. Salwar Kameez/Kurtas/Saris/Lehngas/Sherwanis are our traditional ethnic (read funny-looking)dress. We’ve all had this conversation with a non-desi at a desi wedding:

“Why is the bride wearing red?”
“Well, some brides wear white, but for others, wearing red or pink is our ethnic tradition.”
“Oooooh, that’s so exotic”

Ethnic means we’re different from them.

But in India, why are Indian clothes called ethnic? Ethnic connotes the other, the habits of the minority, things that are unfamiliar to mainstream society. None of this applies in India for Indian clothing. There is no them to be different from.

Why not call it “Western” vs. “Indian” clothing? Or (although this is not accurate) “Western” vs. “Traditional Clothing”? Or, if you think the term ethnic refers to the fact that various types of clothing have regional roots, why not say “Gujarati Lehngas” and “Punjabi Salwar Kameez” etc? Better yet, why not just say Sherwanis rather than “ethnic Sherwanis”? I just don’t get it.

Then again, if you consider the breadth of my ignorance about fashion, the fact that I don’t understand this one little thing is really the least of my troubles

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!

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.

Ladies: Sure our bras can push-in, push-up and push-out…create curves and decolletage where there might not have been otherwise…support us steadfastly through athletic events, bad days at work and first dates alike…and, by sheer ergonomic design, make us sinfully sexy seductresses in the crucial moments when it matters most but, as ever-prepared, forward-thinking members of the Mutiny, let’s get down to brass tacks — what can it really do to help advance our studies?

Just ask Ashish, a telecommunications graduate from India’s Pune University. He was caught cheating on his final-year exam - he diagrammed an elaborate electronic circuit on the underside of his calculator - and kicked out. But he returned and passed the next term, and freely admits to cheating on most tests at university.

“Cheating sounds too grave,” he says, insisting that his family name not be printed. “Everyone does it.” He has written formulas on his ruler and smuggled notes up his sleeves and inside his shoes. Women have it easier, he claims, as modesty affords protection. “If I were a woman, I’d try smuggling them in my bra,” he says.

LINK

I find this great for several reasons.

I may no longer have pink hair and my square-toe docs are 3,000 miles away, but I like to think that being punk requires more than such outward signals. I’m nowhere near as in to anarchy as I once was, but I still totally love the idea of DIY everything. In honor of that hallowed part of punk ideology, I present to you the following blurb which features advice from some desi beauty expert whom I’ve never heard of…I ganked it from the May 2006 issue of Jane, which I’m trying desperately to stay fond of, even though it is suddenly for 20-something women. WTF?

Oh, Sassy…how you are missed. You are the only reason I still subscribe to the monthly which is supposedly your phoenix.

DIY pore shrinkage

Here’s an easy way to minimize the appearance of enlarged pores courtesy of Anjali, who was formerly the Martha Stew of Indian daytime TV and now is head of product development at Shobha salon in NY.

Using a blender, puree one medium unripe tomato (the greener the better…) with one teaspoon of honey— this will mix the astringent power of the fruit w/the natural moisturizers in the honey. Apply the pulp to a freshly washed face, leave it on for 20 minutes, then rinse.

And if your problems go beyond skin issues, toss the remaining puree into a shaker, add some salt, a little vodka and a lot of ice. Shake, pour, drink. - Celia

Um, no, I haven’t tried it. But I was the guinea piglet for L’oreal’s latest mascara so I think I should get a pass on this little experiment. If YOU are brave enough to smear extra sweet salsa on your punim, do let us know if this results in less holes in your face, thanks .

Don’t blink or you might miss my 15 seconds of being hip and cool, but the Grey Lady’s fashion section informs us that the hottest look today is a full beard:

A bearded Ralph Lauren model. I look just like him, but more handsome, and with brown skin and a turban.

At hipster hangouts and within fashion circles, the bearded revolution that began with raffishly trimmed whiskers a year or more ago has evolved into full-fledged Benjamin Harrisons. At New York Fashion Week last month at least a half-dozen designers turned up with furry faces… [at] the John Bartlett show… more than half the models wore beards: untidy ones that scaled a spectrum from wiry to ratty to shabby to fully bushy. [Link]

Wow. For the last three decades, Americans have seen the beard as anathema. The very word means a person who diverts suspicion from someone in both the contexts of betting and sexual orientation. To grow a beard is seen as dishonest, or at the very least, career suicide:

… [A] study in Australia showed that 92% of women and 79% of men would rather not work with people who have facial hair. It also found that senior managers think beards make men look shifty, unattractive and too old. [Link]

Remember Al Gore? He grew a beard to signal the fact that he was a private person who had left public life, and he shaved it to signify that he was once again a political actor. Unlike in India, the American public doesn’t trust a bearded politician:

The last president to sport a mustache was William Taft, who served from 1909 to 1913, while the last bearded president, Benjamin Harrison, left office in 1893. [Link]

We have female senators and black senators, but we do not have a bearded senator… I believe that we will have a female president and a black president before we have another bearded president. [Link]

Every year, the men's website askmen.com releases a list of the 99 hottest celebrities on this planet. Millions of people vote to pick their favorite celebrity, and men the world over are more interested in the results of this poll than ones that pick the majority leader in the House of Representatives. I know, men are shallow. However, I am not one of those men. I care. I am also against the crass commercialization of women. But sometimes, one has to make sacrifices for the sake of an audience, and so this year, I am setting aside my usual apathy to take on the unpleasant task of scouring the list for hot desi women.

There is something in this post for everyone, though: the righties can be indignant about the clothes these women wear; the lefties can fume about the list being predominantly white. The others can gawk.

Gimme a head with hair, long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there, hair!
Shoulder length, longer (hair!)
Here baby, there mama, Everywhere daddy daddy

Abhi at age 3: Nice hair runs in our Indian family.

-Lyrics from the musical Hair

You know what I love me most about South Asian women? Long, beautiful, black hair. Yep, I’m a hair man. Last Friday Brian (followed by a few others) tipped us off that NPR’s Day to Day ran a story about the hottest beauty trend to hit Los Angeles. “Indian Temple Hair.” As everyone knows, L.A. sets the trends for the rest of the nation to follow. Look out middle-America:

In most big American cities, almost any luxury item can be had for a price — real champagne from France, truffles from Italy, and in Los Angeles, human hair from India. Whether it’s individual clumps or full wefts, true human hair is available in beauty salons across the city, and selling very well.

Take, for example, Vared Valensi. The walls of her salon on a busy corner of Melrose Avenue are plastered with pictures of Valensi with some of her celebrity clients, including Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie, Tara Reid and a nest of Playboy bunnies. Each one is cute, skinny and has someone else’s hair attached to her head. Valensi put it there.

This story is absolutely ridic. The interview they do with the woman from the temple in India (where they import this hair from) had me speechless.

…so-called “temple hair” comes from India. It is a byproduct of a religious practice many faithful Hindu women have observed for generations. Pilgrims cut off their hair as an offering to the gods. The hair is then cleaned, processed and exported.

Tiripati temple is where most of the Hindu offerings take place. The hair trade is a boon for the temple, now commonly known as the richest temple in India. Much of that money is coming from places like Los Angeles, where advertisements for Indian hair dot utility poles and storefront windows across the city. With demand for Indian hair growing, more and more Indian companies are advertising to Americans directly, hoping to cash in on the trend.

Ummm. I’m not sure…but isn’t it kind of blasphemous to take hair offered to the Gods…and then turn around and sell it to Tara Reid?

Several of you beginning with “Msichana” emailed us to let us know that the Indian version of Maxim has just issued its first edition with Priyanka Chopra on the cover. The BBC reports:

Don’t ever change girl…oh…you already did? Nevermind then.

Is primetime Priyanka too hot to handle? Forgive me for pondering the merits of Priyanka Chopra, the Bollywood starlet and former winner of the Miss World beauty pageant.

But this is the burning question asked of us by the inaugural Indian edition of Maxim - the British “lad mag” which has just made its sub-continental debut with a pouting Priyanka plastered across its glossy front cover.

Readers are also promised information on “100 things you never knew about women”, a “how to” guide on professional begging, and a must-see article on the police inspector in Uttar Pradesh Panda, who fervently believes that he is the incarnation of the Hindu Goddess Radha.

Folks I have learned my lesson. I’m not about to make a comment about any of Ms. Chopra’s attributes, just in case I ever meet her. In fact, I had never even heard of her before I read this article. Bollywood film-watcher I am not. Also, it just so happens that guest-blogger Karthik answered a topical question at the very end of his first post. Getting back to the magazine’s contents:

Two bikini-clad models helpfully demonstrate how to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre (handy if you have a piece of food stuck in your throat).

Other parts of the magazine are a masala-like blend of men, motors and models.

Well sure. EVERYONE in India should know how to properly execute a Heimlich maneuver. I’m all for health education in developing countries. I hope however that they don’t let an article like this slip into the Indian edition. It might not go over so well.

See Related Posts: Indians love their newspapers, There is no place to hide it in India, Mortified

Last year’s sci-fi flick Serenity turned out to be a WB-movie after all. The captain, a ramblin’ wreck from Duct Tape Tech, tosses his Conan locks and whines incessantly about the health of his ship. But the character is also as hilariously amoral as Han Solo and Indiana Jones. The movie is a whole lot more fun than it has any right to be, and when Heath Ledger’s squire gets shafted, it’s a moment of genuine pathos.

One of the conceits of the plot is that in the future, everyone will speak Chinese and import high tech machinery from India. In a couple of spots, the camera zooms in on hovercraft and spaceship parts prominently stenciled in Punjabi. (Presumably Mahindra Tractors is now Mahindra Tractor Beams.) Indophile also recently noticed that the costume designer drew inspiration from desi formalwear:

It’s ironic that a movie called Serenity bypasses desi philosophy for blingwear which evokes anything but. I say we give Brasilian-American actress Morena Baccarin a couple more turns around the fire and make her an honorary sepiate.

Related posts: A meditation on form, Use the shakti, Luke, “Khaaaaaaaaaannnnnn” Noonien Singh

Here’s a Dutch photo project posing members of subcultures (rockers, surfers, ‘ecofreaks’ and so on) in similar clothes:

“By registering their subjects in an identical framework, with similar poses and a strictly observed dress code, Versluis and Uyttenbroek provide an almost scientific, anthropological record of people’s attempts to distinguish themselves from others by assuming a group identity…” [Link]

The project includes desi women in Rotterdam:

When desis finally get their own high school clique name, it’ll be in some flick called Pretty in Pink, Orange, Red, Purple and Blue, and the name won’t be as lame as the ‘Massalas.’

On the other hand, the dike-desi look is similar to the British Asian bird uniform of London circa 2001: hip-huggers and three-quarters length fitted jacket with frock collar. Black.

See the entire photo project here.

Are you a traditionally dressed Muslim woman who is simply SICK of being profiled because you choose to cover your head? Are you harassed every time you go to the airport? Well now there is a potential solution to your problems (thanks for tip Vikram). Introducing the Counter-Surveillance Headdress (Click on thumbnails to enlarge):

The purpose of the “Counter-Surveillance Headdress” is to empower the wearer by allowing him/her to claim a moment of privacy.

The design of the headdress borrows from Islamic and Hindu fashion. The reason behind this is to comment on the racial profiling of Arab and Arab-looking citizens that occurred post-9/11. Unfortunately the fear of terrorism led to the targeting of those of non-western decent. Therefore in its design my headdress is a contradiction; meaning although it’s goal is to hide the wearer it would make the wearer a target of heightened surveillance.

The “Counter-Surveillance Headdress” is a laser tikka (forehead ornament) attached to a hooded vest and reflective shawl. The laser is activated by pressing a button enclosed in the left shoulder area of the vest. When pointed directly into a camera lens, the laser creates a burst of light masking the wearer’s face. Additionally the wearer can use the reflective cloth to cover the face and head. The aluminized material protects the wearer by reflecting any infrared radiation and also disguises the wearer by visually reflecting the surroundings, rendering the wearer’s identity anonymous.

Call me crazy but I like the reflective shawl. The woman behind this great idea seems to be one Gloria Sed. Her website contains other examples of utilitarian fasions as well. I know what you are thinking. This could be a great Christmas present.

Farrokh Chothia and Atul Kasbekar are two well-known Indian commercial photographers. A lot of their fashion photography is vacuously pretty, but they’ve posted a handful of intriguing photos in their online portfolios:

I wasn’t really paying attention to the Billboard Music Awards until my browndar started dinging rather violently; I looked up and saw “Lost” actor Naveen Andrews with BMA host LL Cool J.

Fresh out of GMail this morning, it’s a missive from my belowed Daily Candy about some silver “fusion” jewelry which is designed and sold in Virginia:

Inspired by the sterling silver baby bells worn by tots in India, the ring adds a bit of cheer to any outfit. Use it to jazz up a casual look or add more pieces from the collection for a fancier occasion.

Worn by tots? I wear those…a “tot” am I? Newsflash: brown “tots” of all ages toy with payal/kolsu.

A bonus: Unlike the cheery adornments they’re based on, the rings do not jingle (thankfully). So your friends will have to find some other way to tell when you’re approaching.

What? Why not? If they don’t make noise, then why bother with calling them bells? And if they are silent, how will I sing “I’m jingling baby (go ‘head, baby)” to myself, like a shameless idiot?

I’m serious— in my opinion, the delicate brightness of those tiny bells, trilling their metallic chime as they kiss the “S” clasp they are mounted near is one of the most gorgeous sounds around: feminine, whimsical, unexpected. Bells don’t have to hide until Chrismahannukwanzakah, not when they can chill with your ankles on a daily or weekly basis. Sheesh.

Breaking News which is Meaningless: A brown-ish designer, Ashley Isham, is one of the four people America’s Next (Nowhere Near) Top Model contestants go on a go-see with during this episode’s “challenge” in London. Contrary to every model friend I’ve ever had, THESE hapless girls are being told to wear something in the “style” of each designer, i.e. wear preppiness to Ben Sherman versus the typical jeans and no makeup MY friends rocked whenever they did anything.

The twist? The girls have to assemble their punk, preppy, mod and BOLLYWOOD outfits at some flea market. Winner gets a photo-shoot. A Bollywood photoshoot. (UPDATE: There ‘tis, above/left.) Oh my. What any of this has to do with being a supermodel is beyond this bear of little brain. Lovely Malayalee Julie of ANTM3, we hardly knew ye, and ye would’ve rocked the shit out of this trifling test.

With the words, “so, look BOLLYWOOD” still ringing in my ears as four confused girls run off to buy something, anything sequined— but will they look appropriate for a frolic through the Swiss countryside?— I hereby notify you that this train wreck is on UPN RIGHT NOW on the east coast. You mutineers on my home coast still have 2.75 hours to get ready for this spicy jelly (Thanks, ANTM fan Rani!).

Liveblogging, after the jump…

The Thai clothing retailer Jaspal, which the NYT calls ‘Thailand’s Gap,’ is currently running a big ad campaign with OC actress Mischa Barton. It’s one of those cushy, overseas-only gigs so ably flèched by Bill Murray, who shilled Suntory whiskey in Lost in Translation. The company’s name implies its founder is Sikh. It’s probably another incarnation of India and Thailand’s long history of mixing:

The Thai alphabet is based on Mon (Burmese), Khmer (Cambodia) and South Indian scripts, and the language has many Sanskrit words… It is the only Southeast Asian country never to have been taken over by a European power… [Link]

The Thai language is liberally sprinkled with words from Pali and Sanskrit (the classical languages, respectively, of Theravada Buddhism and Indian Hinduism). [Link]

Thailand, which is 95% Buddhist, seems tolerant of minority religions, with Hindu shrines as good luck charms in downtown Bangkok (thanks, Mark IV):

Ramakien statue at Wat Phra Kaew temple

“This temple [in Chiang Mai] is one of the biggest in Thailand. We also have one big Sikh gurudwara here which is 120 years old. The same devotees go to both the gurudwara and the temple. On Tuesday, for our weekly satsang, you will find a large number of Thai devotees here…” I spoke with one Thai devotee here, Anuma, who said she was a “Buddhist Hindu” and a devotee of Mother Durga…

… the Sri Mariamman temple [in Bangkok]… was built by South Indians who migrated from the Thanjavur District in Tamil Nadu to Thailand about 150 years ago. It was the first Hindu temple built by the immigrant Indian community… “The reason why so many Thai people are visiting the Mariamman temple is that She is considered to be the Goddess of Protection. During World War II, when a lot of places here were destroyed in the Japanese occupation, the temple remained absolutely safe.” [Link]

Here’s the latest in socially conscious accessories:

Ragbags are fashionable products made from recycled plastic bags collected by ‘ragpickers’ in the slums of New Delhi. Plastic rags are collected, washed, dried and separated by colour. The plastic bags then go into a machine, which presses them into thicker and more durable sheets. No dyes or inks are required. It takes about 60 plastic bags to make one sheet. The sheets are then cut, lined with cloth and stitched or moulded into the various products. [Link]

The collection includes shoulder bags, backpacks, shopping bags, organizers (large and small) and wallets. The shoulder bags come in a variety of different color schemes including “Pakistan” and “India”, neither of which matches either country’s flag.

Most of the stores carrying these goods are in the Netherlands, but Americans can purchase them in Brooklyn and Mendocino, or they can go online. Check the shop locator for an outlet near you.

Waris Singh Ahluwalia is the young actor and Urban Turban designer last seen in, and airbrushed out of the ads for, Wes Anderson’s The Life Aquatic. He’s currently shooting Spike Lee’s The Inside Man, which also stars Denzel Washington, Clive Owen, Jodie Foster, Willem Dafoe, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Christopher Plummer (thanks, zimblymallu):

The Inside Man tells the story of a cop (Washington) who must outsmart a professional bank robber (Owen) during a bank robbery turned hostage situation. [Link]

As negotiations grow more strained, a powerful lawyer with mysterious ties (Foster) becomes involved in the crisis… Dafoe will be playing the role of a police captain while Ejiofor plays a detective… [Link]

Waris plays a bank clerk… there you have Spike Lee wearing House of Waris. In the end he bought the horn ring and the enameled skull. On his right hand he is wearing the white gold and diamond skull ring. He’s totally decked out in House of Waris. [Link]

The movie, parts of which were shot at the Brooklyn Naval Yard, is due out March 24 next year. What fresh hell is this, to be green-eyed man-meat like Clive Owen and yet be cast opposite Waris ‘the S. is for sexayyy’ Ahluwalia

Related posts: Wes hearts Waris, Waris’ star turn: The Life Sikhquatic, Sikh fashionista in ‘The Life Aquatic’

The NYT weddings section tells us of a Manhattan bride whose wedding two days before Halloween had a costume ball theme. The bride’s costume: an American wedding dress and the forehead decorations you see on Gujarati brides. And sometimes elephants. How cool is that — Halloween with a twist of commitment, a.k.a. singleton Kryptonite

The couple were married on Oct. 29 before 126 friends and family in what they called an “antiwedding”- a costume gala. Guests arrived at Studio 450, a loft in New York, wearing top hats, Egyptian headdresses and masks glittering with feathers and rhinestones. The bride’s father dressed as Zorro. The bride and bridegroom came as - surprise! - a bride and bridegroom. Candles and rose petals were scattered throughout the space… [Link]

The groom is apparently an honorary desi:

… [The groom works at] a computer software firm in New York… A few months into their relationship Mr. O’Donnell got Ms. Schaffer a PlayStation and they spent entire days playing “Final Fantasy X” and “The Sims…” [Link]

Umm, yeah, sounds familiar. Wallace and Gromit also made their presence felt:

… the wedding “cake” was served: a five-tiered wonder made up of five different types of cheese. [Link]

Cheese, Gromit!

Sadly, no mutineer can claim that distinction now that this Bonny lass is blogging.

Like Gogol before her, Bipasha has found a new way to concomitantly combat boredom and promote her new flick. I know, I know. It’s not a “real blog”. It’s a PR stunt. Still, her first post received 186 comments. Watch out darling Ennis, your record may not stand… ;)

Being a star is HARD:

In the past, I’ve had some very ugly experiences in Jaipur — people wanting to touch, wanting to be physically near…
I’m very scared of the mob-like mentality of the people.

Good thing she didn’t have that problem while making this phill-um. Another problem she didn’t have? A sore kundi from sitting in the makeup chair for hours.

Isn’t that title just thrillingly trillable? So is the notion that consumers can use information to purchase products supporting their tastes in environmentalism and social justice. “October is Free Trade Month,” a billboard reminded me at the Berkeley BART station—also reminding me that dhaavak owes me a tip on a Rajasthani fair trade NGO.  Taking up where the beloved Cicatrix left off, let us examine the possibilities for a mutiny of the wallet.

Cotton is crucial: ever since Megasthenes told Seleucus of  ”there being trees on which wool grows” in Indika, it’s been one of the subcontinent’s great exports.  For many diasporic desi dads, soft cotton wifebeaters are a must-not-forget purchase on trips back to the homeland. From Gandhi’s spinning days, the ties between social justice and khadi are apparently enshrined in a requirement that the Indian Flag be made only from khadi. Socially conscientious clothing is a constant work in progress, at home and abroad:  ETC India.org  and Dutch development group Solidaridad have announced that they will collaborate to create a Fair Trade Organic Cotton Supply Chain, connecting individual farmers, mills, clothing factories, and markets:

So far, 405 farmers have been enrolled in the programme, who are producing organic cotton in an extent of 1,352 acres of land spread over five rainfed districts in the Telangana region of Andhra Pradesh and two rainfed districts in the Vidharbha region of Maharashtra…He said that Rajalakshmi Mills of Kolkata was currently supporting farmers by purchasing cotton and marketing it in the US and Europe. Last fiscal, over 100 tonnes of lint cotton was sold at a premium of Rs 200 to Rs 250 per tonne over the prevailing market rates. (Link)

It’s the kind of support that’s vitally necessary to small famers whose plight has been highlighted by a plague of suicides.

Raise your hands if your parents usually have a giant bag of rice sitting in the kitchen. Basmati is a key ingredient in making our home away from home, and TransFairUSA now certifies fair traded rice from India, Thailand, and Egypt,:

Traditionally, these farmers have sold their rice to local middlemen rather than developing relationships with exporters. The low prices they receive often do not cover their costs of production, leaving them unable to repay the loans they need to buy seeds and fertilizer and further impoverishing their families. Fair Trade certification ensures that rice farmers receive a fair price for their harvest, creates direct trade links between farmers and buyers, and provides access to affordable credit. Through Fair Trade, farmers and their families are earning a better income for their hard work - allowing them to hold on to their land, keep their kids in school, and invest in the quality of their harvest.

There are three licensed west coast distributors of this fair trade rice, including this supplier of organic basmati rice. Consider taking contact information to your local grocer next time you go shopping.

Apart from Kal Penn’s little brother’s five-minute Goth phase in the movie Where’s the Party, Yaar?, South Asian Goths seem to be largely absent from the desi cultural landscape.  While doing some extensive research on the topic, I learned that a Google search for “South Asian Goths” yields no results, that “Indian Goth” leads largely to porn links, and that half of Google’s “Desi Goths” results point to some guy’s profile on RateDesi: the Desi Hot or Not.  (His average rating is a 7.7393.)  But there’s also this guy:

Shumit Basu designs custom corsets and other items for his label Underground Aristocracy, which has been “hand-crafting corsets for the discerning corset enthusiast since 1997 using a range of materials from fine silk to leather.”  Basu studied at the Art Institute of Chicago and the London College of Fashion, and has been designing for over ten years. Underground Aristocracy currently offers a large selection of corsets for sale, and also promises that more items including bridal wear, accessories, skirts, and cats (?) will soon be available online.

This billboard of TMBWITW sits at the corner of Dundas and Yonge St. in downtown Toronto. Ironically, I was in that city attending the wedding of a man who’s infamous because of the same kind of billboard.

My buddy ‘Milind Das’ (not his real name, for reasons which will become clear) is a Canadian-born desi living in London. He used to work in India as a toney management consultant with an expat package. He often flew between Delhi and Bombay for business meetings at dawn. Early one morning, before sunrise, Milind witnessed an ethereal phantom in a white sari emerging from the fog at Indira Gandhi International. She was a young woman with large eyes, pleasant-looking but not overpoweringly so. She’d covered her hair and much of her face with the end of her sari and was accompanied by an elderly, glowering Cerberus.

Milind settled into his first class seat, pulled out his laptop and began working on a spreadsheet. The watchdog positioned herself grimly between him and her ward. Over the next two hours, her expression changed. At first it was, ‘Don’t even think about talking to my daughter.’ As the minutes ticked by and Milind remained oblivious to her beauty, it became, ‘Why the hell aren’t you talking to my daughter?’

Milind noticed the flight attendants were especially attentive that morning. When the flight ended, he shared a ride into town with one of the attendants whom he’d befriended. (Modesty forbids us from asking about that tale.) She asked him excitedly whether he’d seen the actress.

‘What actress?’

At that very instant, the cab was passing below a supersized Bollywood billboard. The aeronymph stared at him incredulously and pointed up in the air. And that’s how our young swain met The (Second) Most Beautiful Woman in the World.

I trust it’s clear why we must mask Milind’s identity. Otherwise, half a billion desi men would hunt him down for his Bolly ignorance. Of course, he found his own TMBWITW and, 96 hours ago, married her. I’m happy to report that ‘Mrs. Das’ lives up to the name.

Related post here.

peepshow, creepshow…where did you get those eyes?”

:+:

Earlier today, I was at the most forlorn CVS in downtown DC, stalking my unbelievably elusive prey (one, just one OTC elixir without Pseudoephedrine, i.e. that which I have a horrific reaction to) when I saw this…eye-catching display.

I love makeup and while my proclivity to purchase two lip glosses a week would lead you to believe that my all-consuming obsession involves THAT, it doesn’t.

Mascara.

I am as fanatically devoted to mascara as Abhi is to that evolution stuff. ;) Eyelashes are so important, that’s why the right curler is key; it’s also why every model, actress, pageant winner, celebutante and drag queen wears fakes…in Jennifer Lopez’s case, MINK fakes.

I like my eyelashes. I wasn’t born with eyebrows, but I lucked out on the lash tip and girlfriend, you best believe I work it. All I wear is L’oreal mascara. Because it is the best. So, like some unstoppable force pulling me towards the mothership, I was brought to this display.

I noticed two things: a brand-spanking-new type of mascara in a curiously-fat container and one flawlessly beautiful woman channeling Maria Callas, in that exact order. She looked slightly familiar but I couldn’t place her immediately. A second later, I remembered seeing Aish’s face by L’oreal’s lipsticks and that’s when it hit me— she IS one of the faces for the brand. Yes, it was TMBWITW. I’ve never seen her in a movie, which is probably why I had to arrive at my conclusion in such a strange, round-about way. One look at the fine-print, which always tell you who’s in the ad confirmed it.

I’ve got a hot-off-the-press issue of GQ in my hands, and guess who I see? Mathangi “Maya” Arulpragasam, staring right back at me.

The article is titled “British Rule” (hmm…somehow so familiar, so soon) and it’s a style spread:

The hair, the sounds, the suits. For more than 40 years, the Brits have consistently defined the style of rock’n’roll. In this exclusive decade-spanning portfolio, photographer David Bailey proves that they’ve never looked sharper. [link]

David Bailey is, of course, an important figure in the music-fashion-celebrity matrix, seeing that a film was based on him and all. But who the hell are these musicians? Let’s see…we’ve got Pulp, and Blur. Beatles/Stones mentions: Eight. From the closest thing to a Brit OG (Paul Weller) to the youngest of the new tarts (Razorlight) everyone agrees that the Kinks were bloody marvelous and underappreciated. Sure, whatever….pleez. I could say more, but my fangs are already bloody.

Into this sea of insular uniformity they’ve thrown in the Sepia Idol herself, and she doesn’t disappoint:

I believe I lead a call for more sexy sepia men on the Mutiny, but now that a reader sent in some pics, (thanks Ananya) I’m not sure what to think. (mental note: research loopholes and plausible deniability)

Over on the right, we have John Abraham, the 6’1”, half-Keralite/half-Parsi, 1999 winner of Gladrags Manhunt India. Let me hasten to add that he’s now fast becoming an established Ahctor with roles in Dhoom, Water, Viruddh and the soon-to-be released Baabul, among others. The last two with none other than the Daddy-O of Hindi cinema, his excellency Amitabh Bachchan.

As an avowed vegetarian, Abraham recently posed for a PETA India campaign to release caged birds, (see the sexy results below), but it’s this latest poster promoting vegetarianism that caught our tipster’s eye. “Abraham appears dressed in green onions, chilies and what looks like green peas,” s/he succinctly writes. Am I the only one rather turned off by this pic? I dunno, but a scallion grass skirt covering a man’s tender parts entirely makes me lose my appetite. For anything. And what’s with that highly ridiculous crown of chilies? Is this a pun on hotness?

“I’m against cruelty of any kind. That’s why I’m associated with PETA and work against cruelty to animals. Though I’m not the moral police, I’d like people to be considerate to other living beings,” he says. [link]

Sure, sure, but what about cruelty to men, eh? I think forcing a man to wear vegetables surely counts in that category.

My favorite example of an unexpected turban is the one on the head of jazz keyboardist Dr. Lonnie Smith, who bears more than a passing resemblance to my father (even my dad has remarked upon this).  [Photo on the top right]

Who is Lonnie Smith?

Dr. Lonnie Smith is internationally known as one of the premier jazz keyboardists in the history of the idiom. A dominant talent and pace-setting proponent of the Hammond B3 Organ and widely recognized and gifted pianist, Lonnie has been at the forefront of the jazz scene since 1969 when he was named Top Organist by Downbeat Magazine. Most recently, Dr. Smith has been awarded the Organ Keyboardist of the Year award in 2003, 2004 and 2005 by the Jazz Journalist Association.

Interestingly, when asked about the turban, he makes reference to Sikhism. He also keeps his hair long and in a top-knot, like Sikh men do. You can see it in the photo quite clearly. It is unclear to me whether he is a convert to Sikhism, however. There’s only one interview I can find where Sikhism is mentioned, and the writer doesn’t pass along any information of use. He certaintly looks like a Sikh, and that’s a very Sikh style of turban, but nobody (not even a friend who is in 3HO) seems to know.

There’s actually quite a tradition of (mainly black) musicians in the 1950s and 1960s wearing turbans. The bottom photo on the left is of a group that even called itself the Turbans:

The Turbans were a Philadelphia based R&B vocal group that had chart success in the mid-50…. the Turbans are credited with performing the first hit record to include the phrase ‘doo-wop’. [cite]

Personally, I’m looking forward to a time when my local racist assholes decide to yell “Lonnie Smith” at me as they drive by, rather than “Osama” or “Saddam” or “Raghead” or “Diaperhead” or “Sand N—er” whatever the f- - - floats into their minds at that moment. Then I’ll know that turbans have really made it. Until such a time, I’ll have to content myself with the fact that Lonnie Smith is one damn fine looking man with his turban and beard, and that the racists here hate me (in part) because I’m beautiful .

You can see a whole bunch of photos of Dr. Lonnie Smith, or read an interview with him in Jazz Times Magazine.

Commenter Angie points us to Sandy Dalal née Sanjiv Agashiwala, a competitive fencer from Penn who got turned on to fashion at his mom’s import-export business and ended up a menswear designer in Manhattan. He’s also qui’ fi’, as the Brits might say, and his light-colored peepers made People’s beauty list in ‘98.

Bronx-born Sandy Dalal has followed in the footsteps of other famous northern-borough fashion designers Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren to become one of the hottest men’s wear designers around. Dalal won the 1998 CFDA’s Perry Ellis Award for Menswear while still attending the University of Pennsylvania. [Link]

He was also named as one of People magazine’s “50 Most Beautiful People” in the same year. Sandy Dalal’s clothing can be found in prominent stores like Barney’s, Bloomingdale’s, Saks Fifth Avenue… [Link]

Bjork, Beck, Wyclef Jean and members of Duran Duran, Foo Fighters and Third Eye Blind wear his clothing during performances. [Link]

Once brown, always brown:

He is known for using beautiful and luxurious fabrics and for mixing patterns — unusual in a men’s wear line. [Link]

The double standard between male beauty and female — male models and ‘manhunts’ are not taken seriously:

How does it feel to know you’re known for your face as much as for your clothes?
Dalal: Right now it’s a cool gig where I can feed off the clothes and the clothes can feed off me, and rightfully so…

It seems like you don’t take yourself too seriously, despite the awards and fame. How come?
Dalal: How seriously can you take it? Clothes don’t talk back to you. [Link]

Oh nooooo…..just two weeks ago, Jhaan mentioned Satya Paul: Indian fashion designer, creator of beautiful saris, a man who didn’t rush to the tacky embrace of East-meets-West “fusion” clothing, the very antithesis of my favorite whipping boy, Anand Jon.

Well, apparently succumbing to the siren song of “global presence,” Satya Paul presents his April 2005 India Fashion Week collection in NY tonight. From the press release:

Satya Paul, the premier Indian designer label recognized internationally for its haute couture, saris, fabrics, neckties and accessories, is unveiling a dazzling new collection of apparel and drapes in New York. The collection will be modeled by Indian beauty queens and film stars at a gala benefit at the Broadway Ballroom of the Marriot Marquis, on Saturday, September 10, at 7:00 pm.

But wait! Before you grab your wallet and run out the door - there’s more:

The multi-media show will highlight a fusion of the East and West. The mythological Sita - heroine of the Indian epic, the Ramayana - will be “teamed” with Madonna, the entertainment legend. The Madonna who appears in Satya Paul’s collection mirrors the star in her self confidence and sophistication. At her core is Sita, the woman of timeless elegance, mystery and purity. Satya Paul’s collection brings out the sensuality of the East, blended with the gritty worldliness of the West.

Just so you don’t miss this fusion, the collection is named Madonna Meets Sita. The timeless Eastern elegance of Sita, wrapped in the Western confidence of Madonna….get it?

(I wonder if they’ll play “Like a Virgin” as the models strut the ramp…..I’m sure Madonna wouldn’t resist a man with ten heads, either…..j/k!! don’t send Hanuman after me too!! )

According to Shashwati, three Indian universities are considering imposing a dress code on their students. Of course, this dress code applies only to their female students.  Bombay University says the dress code will protect women from violent crime, according to the age old Indian principle of  “she was asking for it”:

Bombay University plans to ban women from wearing mini skirts, tight tops and shorts, saying this will help prevent rape. Officials at the university say they would prefer to see women students in a traditional salwar-kameez with no deep neckline. [cite]

Officials at Bombay University also claim that this will benefit the men on campus:

“An attire should be such that it should not be offensive or cause distraction to fellow students and lecturers,” Vice Chancellor Vijay Khole told reporters.  [cite]

At Delhi University, the discussion took on an ethnic dimension. Perhaps it is more acceptable to impose a dress code if you can blame it on ‘outsiders’:

A furious debate is going on among the students of Delhi University ever since Kirori Mal College vice principal Virender Kumar’s remarks that “revealing dresses” allegedly worn by girls from India’s northeast triggered angry responses. Although a chastened Kumar has apologised, girl students, particularly those from the northeast, are still furious. [cite]

Philadelphia, September of 2002.

“OhMyGod”, was the greeting my mummy blurted out instead of her customary, “Hi, mone”. “When did THAT happen?”

“Two weeks ago, Ma.”

“But…why?”

I shrugged. “Felt like it.”

“You know that’s not something a Christian girl should do,” she replied, eyebrows undulating with disapproval and consternation.

“Only Hindu girls can get their noses pierced?”

“Only Hindu girls SHOULD get their noses pierced.”

“Pashu tatti. It’s a cultural thing, Ma. Not religious.”

My mother snorted before telling me where I could store my opinions on culture and religion. “It IS a Hindu tradition. Maybe even a Muslim one. Try it with someone dumber than your Mother, edi.”

Anne Martin, the principal of Durban Girls High School in South Africa should have called my mom when she needed an expert opinion on whether piercing one’s nose is a “culturally-based rather than religious” practice. ;)

Who is Anne Martin? Why should she defer to my almighty Mom? Read on:

Sunali Pillay, 16, took her case to the Durban Equality Court claiming that she was being unfairly discriminated against by her Durban Girls High School which was not allowing her to wear a nose ring in accordance with her religious beliefs.

Fresh bagels, Starbucks™ coffee, foot massages…??? Turbanhead must’ve had the all-access pass to the North Dakota headquarters. All I see are grey socks and an ant farm. And all I got were a gaddawful hangover and some suspicious bruising.

I am truly honored by the invite to blog. It’s my first time, so please be gentle.

Since fashion-lovers responded so warmly to my sartorially-obsessed MIA review, I thought I’d start things off with the news that Ashish Soni is presenting a collection at New York Fashion Week next month. The first Indian to be invited to do so.

Soni, like all designers, needs money to buy fabric, stitch up samples and hire those lissome young things to stalk a runway. Our man in Delhi, however, seems a bit more enterprising than most when it comes to getting his show on the road:

At an informal press briefing today, Soni announced that his show in New York would be jointly sponsored by the Ministry of Textiles, the Ministry of Tourism and Air-India. And what’s more, all this, as part of the Incredible India campaign. The total sponsorship package would amount to ‘‘around $200,000’’, informed the designer.

We haven’t tapped the huge potential that we hold in the field of textiles,’’ explained Tourism Minister Renuka Chowdhury at the press briefing. ‘‘So when Ashish approached us with his blueprint which would help showcase Indian textiles abroad, we decided to make him an ambassador for the Incredible India campaign,’’ she said.

Exactly how would this help tourism? ‘‘Well, the huge international media presence will ensure that the world gets to see a younger, contemporary and more vibrant side to India,’’ she reasoned. [link]

The daughter of a big-time Silicon Valley VC wed last weekend. In these troubled times, it warms my heart to see that the ultra-wealthy are still meeting and mating over that shared hobby called Indophilia

… each had traveled to India, Ms. Kramlich to ride horses across the desert in Rajasthan and Dr. Bowie to Dharmsala, “to meet the Dalai Lama…” [Link]

Wealthy Westerners… a dusty desert… heaving bodices… it’s The Far Pavilions! For that level of Indophilia, their kids better be wearing turbans. I’m thinkin’ Poon-jab as the child of Daddy Warbucks.

As Ms. Kramlich’s father doubtless has access to a private jet, it may be the last time she and her husband find themselves on horseback out of necessity  The wedding writeup is a peek into the lifestyle of Sand Hill Brahmins:

In 2001 she had abandoned a career in business and product development with start-up technology companies to study acting… They were married in typical California wine-country style on Aug. 13. Chief Justice Ronald M. George of the California Supreme Court, a friend of the bride’s family, led the ceremony under a canopy of oaks and a Wedgwood-blue sky on the grounds of the 21-acre Oakville, Calif., weekend house and vineyard owned by the bride’s father, a Silicon Valley venture capitalist, and her stepmother, Pamela Kramlich, a trustee of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

The bride looked serene in a form-fitting creamy-white Vera Wang gown as a string quartet, tucked into the greenery, played sweetly. A reception and sit-down dinner for 234 guests followed on the grassy lawns surrounding the votive-lit family pool.

After the couple’s honeymoon, at an eco-resort in Nicaragua, that is part nature preserve and part reforestation project, the bride and the bridegroom, who has no pets of his own, will return to their new horse farm in the Oakland Hills of California with her animal entourage: three Arabian horses and one very happy and healthy poodle. [Link]

All joking aside, congratulations to the newlyweds.

Professional Indian women are trading one type of pleated garment for a far less attractive substitute (unless they're choosing "flat-fronts", that is):

A survey of Indian women's preferred daily clothing has shown that more female professionals are choosing trousers over the traditional sari. The study results show that sales of women's trousers have surged by almost 10% over the last two years.

Why all the drama?

"Let's face it, the sari is not an easy garment to deal with. Women find it difficult to work in it with all the pleats and it does tend to be cumbersome," fashion writer Hindol Sengupta told the BBC.

Worry not, traditionalists. Regular old Indian clothes still account "for three-quarters of the women's apparel market". Huzzah.

Salman Rushdie recently jawboned a NYT reporter for calling his wife a common hustler. Today, that same reporter wrote about India Fashion Week. The good news: Delhi is in the NYT. The bad: Guy Trebay sounds like the condescending love child of Lord Macaulay and Rudyard Kipling:

On one hand there are the neo-minimalists, deploying traditional handicrafts with restraint and confidence. On the other are designers whose response, when presented with a blank slate and access to those same crafts traditions, takes the form of horror vacui. More is more, in other words, with a dollop of too much. For every even marginally subtle designer like Mr. Varma, there are five others whose work looks as if it is destined for a camel fair in Rajasthan…

Earth to Trebay: it’s an ornamented culture. You don’t see people dinging the Chinese for silk mandarin jackets. And when Tamarind goes with an all-beige, Ralph Lauren-meets-Sears comforter theme, some of us see that as a downgrade.

Trebay expands:

“I’m here to see clothes that speak to a larger, more global vision,” said Michael Fink, a buyer for Saks Fifth Avenue. “I keep saying to people: ‘Designers come from abroad, take your fabrics and crafts and present extraordinary clothes. What’s wrong? Why aren’t you doing that here?’ ” Mr. Fink was not alone among those hopefuls who made the trek from the United States or Europe only to find disappointment in collections not yet likely to translate for foreign markets…

Translation: we do Indian clothes better than the Indians. Yes, people, why can’t you rip off your shit for Kmart like we do? You water down your milk, we water down your yoga. You dilute your petrol, we dilute your tunics. By the time we’re done, nobody’ll remember they were ever called anything else. What’s a little bastardized fashion between friends?

But wait, he’s not done yet:

Tragedy struck earlier this week at a sweatshop in Bangladesh:

Rescuers pulled two more bodies out of the rubble of a nine-story garment factory that collapsed four days ago, taking the toll to 32 on Thursday with more than 100 workers still feared trapped...The factory at Palashbari, 30 km (18 miles) from the Bangladesh capital Dhaka, was built without planning permission, officials and engineers said. Its owners have not been found since the worst tragedy in the country’s accident-prone garment industry struck in the wee hours of Monday. [Reuters/Yahoo!]

The factory produced clothes for export to the U.S, Belgium and Germany. The companies haven’t been named, or stepped forward. Seeing as how their oversight of the factory was lacking, they probably don’t even know yet. Once they do, surely their hell-bound executives will mourn the loss (of revenue, not life).

Reuters/Yahoo!: Hopes for Bangladesh factory survivors fade as death toll hits 32

AFP photographer Indranil Mukherjee brings us this gem from a fashion preview in Bombay:

How does one manage to consume food with that thing in the way? Does it come with an assistant who will hold it up while you stuff your eathole? It probably doesn't matter — buying such a pricey item will leave its slow-witted buyer with little money left to spend on food. This means that they will starve to death, which is ultimately good for the species, because it prevents their moronified genes from passing on.

Voice of America gives a little preview of what many of us will be doing through the spring and summer months: going to the elaborate Indian weddings of people younger than us.

The bride is always beautiful.

And Sumit Arya’s job is to make sure she looks perfect. Originally from India - he’s a wedding planner.

“I’ve been raised half over here and half in India, so I do combine a lot of the ideas when it comes to wedding planning,” says Mr. Aray.

Sumit and his wife Shika make a bride’s dreams come true. Their Expos are one-stop shopping trips, where a traditionally-minded bride can find everything from jewels and exquisite silk, to a Hindu clergyman to officiate.

Vimesh Thakkar, a Hindu pundit says, “I go all around the U.S.A. As a matter of fact, next month I am going to Puerto Rico. Nowadays, people want the ceremonies in resorts. So I go to Mexico and other places to do [weddings].”

Must be nice. Maybe I shall become a clergyman. What?
The transcript of the videoclip can be found here.

You guys have heard a similar story before I’m sure, but this stuff never gets old. GG2.net reports:

An American online store selling womens` undergarments featuring images of Hindu Gods and religious icons has angered members of the community who have demanded their immediate withdrawal from the website.

In an ad for womens` thongs, Cafe-Press.com has on display hundred per cent cotton `Hindu God Shiva classic thong` priced at USD 12.99 with the religious deity`s face, another called `iGod Shiva Classic thong` for USD 15 makes a statement “Namaste it loud. Your`re Hindu and you`re proud.”

The `Om Classic Thong` priced at USD 8.99 explains “Om or rather aum is a sacred Hindu symbol that represents the absolute.”

Leading the protest for the products withdrawal is the American Hindus Against Defamation (AHAD), the largest Hindu anti-defamation group in North America comprising several Hindu organisations.

But all is well that ends well:

The protests had borne fruit with CafePress withdrawing the product line from its site.

Oh yeah? Then what is this?

I just don’t get my panties in a bunch over stuff like this though. There were other items however that did get my attention.

This post is in honor of the busiest shopping day of the year. A fashion entrepreneur might do very well with a more desi-friendly Zara:

Zara is paradise for sexy men’s clothing. It’s my all-time favorite store…

• It’s one of the vanishingly scarce stores in America which do fall colors and deep jewel tones, like Indian formalwear, instead of those sickly pastels which look terrible on desis
• Its fabrics are beautifully textured, like sherwanis, so subtle details appear upon closer inspection
• It does dramatic tapered cuts rather than the shapeless American box cut; it’s the only non-designer store where I can get any semblance of a V-shape and waist…

The Economist compliments its speed:

Zara is the world’s fastest-growing retailer… Zara can make a new line from start to finish in three weeks, against an industry average of nine months. It produces 10,000 new designs each year; none stays in the stores for over a month…

Someone please clone this store, quick. The number of dark-haired people in the U.S. (black, Latino, Asian, desi) is enormous and growing. Zara with a more desi-friendly line and deeper supply chain could be an absolute gold mine…

Also focusing on the underserved dark-haired, olive-skinned market is fellow Berkeley grad Lubna Khalid’s startup, Real Cosmetics.

Continue reading…