April 17, 2008

Of miniskirts and mental health

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]

ennis at 12:48 PM in Fashion, Issues · 89 comment(s) · Direct link

March 05, 2008

It isn't even April 1st yet!

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):

Good thing our favorite fictionist “Happy No No Place” is alert and intrepid! She discovered this site and solemnly sent it along to me, along with the following pithy statement: “wow”. A few minutes later, when she had recovered her powers of speech, she informed me that she couldn’t reach their “live” customer service, to notify them of the unique item on their sidebar.

Meanwhile, I clicked that link (like you wouldn’t) and saw this:

Oddly enough, the Kanchipuram saris didn’t resemble what I thought they would; they looked more like the “fashionable”, lightweight, embroidered/bedazzled saris. I almost started to worry, but then I relaxed when I realized that the “special link” was how I could procure opulent, heavy silk! I must ask my Tamizzhhlan friends how to pronounce this phrase properly…wouldn’t want to botch it with my ABD accent and all.

anna at 09:25 AM in Fashion, Humor, Musings · 50 comment(s) · Direct link

January 13, 2008

Prêt-à-Porter for Boyz

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].

What I like most about this shot is that with those juicy puckered lips and cocksure tilt of the head, M.I.A. captures the attitude you’d have to exhibit if you (a male) wore this outfit while grocery shopping on a Sunday, just as neighborhood churches were letting out. The jaws of young mothers navigating the produce section would drop open and they wouldn’t know whether to cover their children’s eyes or their own, as you gently squeezed the Roma tomatoes (needed for your vegetarian sandwich) to ensure proper ripeness. As you moved on to the frozen food aisle the goosebumps on your legs would stand at attention. You’d probably have to rub your hands together real fast and then touch your legs to warm them up, the way Pat Morita did to Daniel-san in The Karate Kid. By that time this one PTA mother, who seems to always be lurking at this grocery store, would have alerted the store’s rent-a-cop about your “provocative clothing.” Lucky for you the rent-a-cop is a woman who appreciates a man with good fashion sense. To placate “PTA mom” she offers to take you in the back to check your drivers license…or whatever. She gets off work in ten minutes anyways and is both a vegetarian and hungry. Marc Jacobs is on to something. I’m always looking for the perfect grocery shopping outfit.

This photograph, from as best as I can tell, is part of the same ad campaign. At first I didn’t understand because I don’t see any men’s clothing in this entire ad. And then, finally, I grasped the genius that is Marc Jacobs’. In this photograph M.I.A. is posing as a men’s “accessory.” If I dressed up in either of the two outfits featured about above, I would need a beautiful woman like this hanging off my arm, left nipple peaking out with confidence, daring someone to make a comment so she can slap them upside the head with that gold hand bag as she says, “and who gave you permission to look?” I would chime in with a “yeah punk. Don’t be looking at my girl’s chest.” I also like the fact that photographer Juergen Teller was able to capture M.I.A. in a shot where it looks like she has a “man arm” (as opposed to man hands). I’ve always appreciated women with strong muscular arms who’d be able to kick the ass of any other women that might be vying for my much sought after attention. And believe me, in a Marc Jacobs outfit, many women would be vying for my attention.

Finally, there is this shot above. Anna insisted I include this because unlike me, she didn’t find the Marc Jacobs ad campaign very effective…except for this lone picture which she found redeeming. I’m not sure. I hate to disagree with Anna (whose fashion credentials are legendary) in a public forum but I think that any fashion ad should really highlight either clothes or accessories. It is possible that if we were able to pan down M.I.A. might be wearing some tighty-whitey underwear that I would find appealing. This shot however, features only one mustard colored shirt and a magnifying glass. As a man, I don’t find a magnifying glass a very useful accessory (and I surely don’t want a magnified image of the inside of her mouth). Underwear is a must though, and so I wish we saw at least one ad featuring M.I.A. in the type of tighty-whiteys I’d consider wearing around the apartment after work.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed my fashion review. Since I am not known for my fashion reviews on this website, this is the last one you will probably see for a while.

abhi at 08:07 PM in Fashion, Humor, Music, Musings · 55 comment(s) · Direct link

December 23, 2007

Stocking stuffers for the Orissa government

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]

I just can’t understand why anyone would be offended by an Indian Flag on a thong?? I guarantee you that any man that uncovers one in the proper context will spontaneously break out in a rendition of Jana Gana Mana (even though I don’t know the lyrics I could hum them). And on the flipside, what girl wouldn’t want to see me strut in a pair of these?

Baby is that Bachchan on yo drawz? That’s hot.

I wonder, perhaps, could it be that there is an election close at hand in Orissa? Let me tell you something politicians of Orissa. This here is America, where freedom rules and our crotches are free to be decorated in any manner we choose. If I choose an aging Bollywood star to adorn my manhood, thats my right! America, F*ck yeah, freedom is the only way!

abhi at 12:57 AM in Fashion, Humor, Religion · 106 comment(s) · Direct link

November 07, 2007

Two Things I Think We Can All Agree On

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.)

amardeep at 01:20 PM in Fashion · 183 comment(s) · Direct link

October 15, 2007

Keep the Gold, I Want a New Nokia for Diwali

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?)

amardeep at 10:53 PM in Economics, Fashion · 84 comment(s) · Direct link

October 03, 2007

Model Minority

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]

That said, I have seen some good uses of Sikhs for their “look.” I get a kick out of seeing Waris, in part because I knew him back in the day, but also because I know he is there more as a fashionista than as a clothes rack. I also liked the spread - was it in GQ? - where they took some uncles out of their taxis and put them in some fine clothes. Lastly, I love these shots from Andrew Kelly’s website (I suggest you click through, he’s got a whole bunch of them).

I’m having a hard time putting into words why I liked these examples but am wary of the Cole effort and wasn’t crazy about Vikram or the other model. I think it largely has to do with the extent of exotification, and my suspicion that exotification might be unavoidable for people trying professional modelling, but can be reduced if you use the sardar on the street AND if you aren’t trying to Benetton him.

There are plenty of Sikh men out there, dressed up like peacocks, swaggering around if you just want some pretty sardars in nice clothes in a photo . But for some reason, more “fashion” type shots and spreads always rub me the wrong way.

Update: ALL PHOTOS IN THIS POST ARE EXAMPLES OF WORK I LIKE. The photos below are from Andrew Kelly, the photo above is of Waris, but I don’t know where it is from.

[Before you ask, I haven’t thrown my metaphorical hat in the ring for this. I am vain enough , but work is too busy to let me easily get to NYC for a shoot. ]

ennis at 02:07 PM in Fashion, Religion · 34 comment(s) · Direct link

August 06, 2007

Maybe when Diesel makes one?

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.

anna at 02:00 PM in Fashion, Humor, Musings · 134 comment(s) · Direct link

August 01, 2007

Who is SKINNY? [Updated]

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?

::

isin’t that a picture of you ANNA?? or may be your sister?

While it easily could be, because my sister and I both have huge, bubble-like Malayalee kundis which resemble two coconuts attached to our lower back, and yes, apparently we also both have “thunder-thighs” like our helpful model above, no, it’s neither me nor my little sister.

I look exactly like that in jeans.

I am dismayed that some of you think that her thighs are ugly, but to each their own; we are attracted to what we are attracted to and that’s that. I bring this up not to call you out (S, you know you and labbie singh are my peeps), but to speak to the women who are lurking, who have body image issues. Because believe me, they are here and they are reading this. They inspired this.

I have no problems in NYC or SF or DC…guess my hatred-since-infancy of LA has protected me from an eating disorder, since I am a size 8, not a size 4, and that is too big for La-La land.

I like my body. I like it so much, I don’t give a shit about telling you the truth— I am 5’6” and I weigh a whopping 148 lbs. I’ve gained weight, since hurting my leg, because I no longer get to walk the three miles home from work. To go from walking more than 20 miles a week to not being mobile at all…well, it takes a toll. I’ve gained eight pounds, which I can’t be fucked to cry over, because I’m more upset over losing lean mass and the ability to walk comfortably, without pain or this huge, heavy, unwieldy cast on my leg.

To the young woman whose email to me on Facebook inspired this entire post:

Please stop calling yourself “fat” and “ugly”. You look exactly like this picture, I know, because I went through your albums and found one taken at a similar angle. You don’t have luck with desi guys in NYC because of timing, circumstance or that nakshatram with the tree or whatever— NOT BECAUSE YOU ARE OBESE. When you kept reading about how guys like Puli et al want “skinny” desi girls, in the mega-thread, they were talking about you, my darling girl.

I proved this. I proved my point.

The majority of men on this thread think that the woman pictured above isn’t just beautiful but hot, gorgeous, attractive, ideal.

Please eat your lunch today. And your dinner. And work-out, but do so because your heart and lungs and future grandchildren deserve to be taken care of— you’re too precious to starve, especially at your own hands.

To quote you, “Shocker. Indian girls have eating disorders, too.”

Well, they shouldn’t have to— no human should. Eat. Be healthy. Fall in love with yourself. Life is too short for bullshit, and that goes for all of you.

Thunder thighed-Anna, over and out.

anna at 08:15 PM in Fashion, Humor, Musings · 785 comment(s) · Direct link

July 24, 2007

It's a nice day for a white (brown) wedding

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?

[An aside] Incidentally, the whole white wedding thing comes from Queen Victoria who changed white from a color of royal mourning (as amongst many desis) to the color of the virgin bride:

Queen Victoria was not the first royal bride to wear a white wedding gown, but the first of the modern era. White had been a traditional color of royal mourning, and although not often utilized as such, white was not considered a suitable choice for a royal wedding. Victoria’s choice popularized the white gown as no other had before her. [Link]

ennis at 10:43 PM in Fashion, Identity · 281 comment(s) · Direct link

July 19, 2007

We Know Maths, Medicine AND Brows!

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.

anna at 07:21 PM in Beauty, Fashion, Humor · 69 comment(s) · Direct link

July 16, 2007

Feeling Sorry for the Sari [UPDATED]

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?

::

Anyone who makes my heart swell by calling me a term of endearment I haven’t heard in over two decades gets what they want. :) Wish everyone were this easy to please.

Click to enlarge.

I’ve read many of the comments below, which celebrate the beauty of wearing a sari “Gujurati-ishtyle”. While I have done that (with this very sari even!), I must gently demur— wearing one’s pallu the “boring” way ain’t so bad, I promise. ;)

And yes, all my blouses are that conservative. Not a word, brown fashionistas. Not. a. word.

anna at 01:42 PM in Fashion · 259 comment(s) · Direct link

June 13, 2007

Anand Jon: Now With Less Hair, More Victims

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.

anna at 12:10 AM in Fashion, Humor, News, Short · 33 comment(s) · Direct link

May 29, 2007

Benetton Takes on Bruises - UPDATED

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…

anna at 11:03 PM in Fashion, Issues · 121 comment(s) · Direct link

May 23, 2007

"The Over-Accesorized Label Lover" - UPDATED

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?

::

Because one of you who should know better shamelessly suggested it AND because I already received one vague piece of hate mail which mindlessly accused me of hypocritically not putting myself out there for dissection the way I heartlessly did to Miss Mitra above, feel free to ponder my homage to Natasha, below.

Thomas Pink dress shirt: $140

Vintage Gucci sunglasses: $45

L.L. Bean Boat and Tote: $32

Mongram: $5

Not being a slave to fashion: priceless. ;)

There are some things money can’t buy (like good taste and shame— I would know, I can’t find any of the latter to purchase). For everything else at Tyson’s Galleria/Corner, there’s MasterCard.

anna at 01:11 AM in Fashion, Humor, Profiles · 228 comment(s) · Direct link

May 03, 2007

Paging Mango Pickle...I Need Mango Pickle.

[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. ;)

anna at 08:00 PM in Beauty, Fashion, Humor · 136 comment(s) · Direct link

March 29, 2007

Just Say NO to Faux.

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

anna at 05:18 PM in Fashion, Photos, Short, TV · 97 comment(s) · Direct link

March 14, 2007

Purple Reign

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?

anna at 01:21 AM in Fashion, Humor, Photos, Short · 41 comment(s) · Direct link

February 26, 2007

All That Glitters Ain't (Banarasi) Gold

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.

siddhartha at 08:00 AM in Arts and Entertainment, Fashion, Film · 196 comment(s) · 1 reader(s) linked · Direct link

December 30, 2006

Exploitation? What Exploitation?

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.

siddhartha at 10:16 AM in Fashion · 187 comment(s) · Direct link

December 06, 2006

Little black dress

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.

ennis at 12:02 AM in Fashion, News · 55 comment(s) · Direct link

November 28, 2006

Straight eye for the guerilla guy

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 at 12:00 AM in Fashion, Humor · 85 comment(s) · Direct link

November 27, 2006

Fashion victims, unite!

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!

What actually gets on my nerves about fashion in Pakistan is that it’s…well, it’s not really. Now I’ve never really understood fashion (I know, I risk losing my homosexual membership card with this admission), but I’ve sort of always followed the perspective that creating outré outfits that no one can either afford or actually wear in public for more than thirteen-and-a-half minutes may well be couture, but it’s not necessarily fashion. And admittedly, I adore Project Runway (although Laura was robbed, but we’ll get back to that)—to me, that’s sort of what the fashion industry is about—creating innovative, imaginative looks that while interesting, aren’t so completely insane that you can’t actually wear them out in public. But the key thing here is innovation and imagination. And learning about pattern-making, about sewing, about how fabrics need to be tailored, the basic tools that one would (I assume) require to be a successful designer.

Not here though, apparently. It seems that any bored hausfrau with a bit of extra cash and a tailor at her beck and call can set up her own “boutique” or label; and the successful designers seem to be the ones with the most technically adept tailors. I cannot for the life of me, imagine more than one or two of Pakistan’s most “famous” designers being able to go on a show like Project Runway. I mean, at the end of the day, it’s all bridal wear, ghararas, lenghas, shalwar kameez, and the occasional blouse, all differentiated only by the amount of embroidery, the length of the top or the trousers, and/or the general cut of the neck or the sleeves. There’s really not much else going on there. I’m not really doing it justice, but basically if you’ve seen one outfit, you’ve seen ‘em all. The menswear market is similarly limited, but enough on the limitations of the actual designs and clothes—suffice it to say that by virtue (again, we keep coming back to this) of an innately theocratic government and society, designers are fundamentally limited in what they can and cannot actually make. So I’m happy to give them a bit of a pass on the “oh good grief, it’s the same bloody thing as you made last week” element of the local fashion industry, they’re definitely working within some stringent conditions (although I continue to maintain that if they’re going to paint themselves as “edgy” and “daring”, they need to do more than slash a couple of vents in random pleats and contend that it’s a breakthrough in design).

I suppose it’s because of the somewhat repressive social regime that exists across the board here in Pakistan (although some are, of course, more repressed than others) that fashion has taken on this mythological sense of presence. There are fashion shows for just about everything, and they double as excuses for parties, for fundraisers, for self-promotion…just everything under the sun. Which again, somewhat understandable, but I hear about things like Pakistan Fashion Week and cringe just a little, imagining a week of catty designers screaming epithets at one another as models swish down the catwalk in a rapid succession of only-marginally-different outfits. I think though, that an exchange between two of my friends right after the massive earthquake last year neatly encapsulates the degree of self-importance that fashionistas in Pakistan exhibit. A friend, living in Islamabad, got a telephone call from a “fashion choreographer” (i.e. “Walk down the runway! Now turn! Now walk back!”—seriously, that’s the extent of it from what I’ve observed), the day after the earthquake. The first thing asked was not “Are you all right?”, but rather “Oh God, what am I going to do? The fashion show is going to be completely ruined, you HAVE to come and be the MC.” I suppose that could be a relatively innocuous statement coming from someone who couldn’t process the tragedy and was dealing with it in manageable chunks, but I see this mentality everywhere. It’s as though the designers and anyone associated with the domestic industry have an obsession with living up to the conceptual certainty of being a designer (read: like to do lots of drugs and party massively) without actually exhibiting any amount of technical skill or ability. Not that you’d think it from hearing them speak about how incredibly talented (and self-effacing, of course) they are, nope, not at all.

Don’t get me wrong, I have an enormous amount of respect for the fashion industry—never in the history of humankind has so much attention been paid to the deconstructed A-line skirt. And there’s definitely an industry present, remarkable in its own way for the sheer amount of business it generates, but what strikes me about the Pakistani fashion industry is the number of aspirations that lack any real substance. But you have “fashion journalists”, and “fashion photographers”, and “fashion stylists”, all of whom are focused on inflating the reputation of an industry that is very much in its fledgling stages, is dominated by about a dozen people, and which quite frankly, needs to get its shit together. There are some genuinely talented people out there, but they tend to get overlooked by the pompous gits who seem to think that their ability to describe an outfit in its most literal sense is some sort of major accomplishment. Seriously. It’s that attitude, the “fashion is the panacea for all earthly evils” thing that really gets on my tits, and it’s what limits the industry here severely. If someone could get everyone in the general industry knurd, I suspect very strongly, that once the medications have run their respective courses, people would really get their shiznit together.

I swear, I cannot WAIT for Heidi Klum to auf someone from the Pakistani version of Project Runway. Just to see the expressions on everyone’s faces.

sin at 02:40 PM in Fashion · 53 comment(s) · Direct link

October 24, 2006

The Exotic

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.

taz at 02:28 AM in Fashion · 143 comment(s) · Direct link

October 23, 2006

What in Samhain...

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.

anna at 05:23 PM in Fashion, Holidays, Humor · 64 comment(s) · Direct link

I see brown people

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: