22 March,2010 01:33 PM IST | | Shweta Shiware
Mumbai girl Rashmi Pusalkar is making virtual clothes for virtual people who live in a 3d world called second life. but the fan following and handsome cash she collects, are all real
Kolkata design wiz Sabyasachi Mukherjee's earthy antidote to fashion's obsession with frivolous revelry, has inspired other-worldy clothes. He, along with Delhi-based veteran Rajesh Pratap Singh, encouraged Rashmi Pusalkar to create a wardrobe for people who don't exist, but rule the minds and lives of millions of fans.
The 27 year-old Mumbai-based art director dresses up Avatars on Second Life, a 3D virtual world where users connect and socialise using voice and text chat. "Sabyasachi gets away with using fabrics in contrasting colour because he does it intelligently. And Pratap's classic take on clothes makes him my favourite," says the girl with the oddest job in the world.
Born in Dubai to an engineer father, Rashmi moved to Mumbai to pursue a diploma in Applied Arts at Sophia Polytechnic in 1999. It was at ad agencies Ulka and Publicis Ambi that she learnt why television and fashion make engrossing mediums. Freelance assignments allowed her to work as a consultant, and brought in creative satisfaction along with extra cash till she had to quit her job because she had "too many clients from freelancing jobs". Her exposure to fashion remained limited to creating new arrival invitation cards for South Mumbai designer boutique Ensemble, and promotional campaigns for Lee Cooper and Tru00c3u00a9s Mode.
Japs loved the lehengas
Last year's recession gifted her with free time to surf the net. "I'm a big fan of networking sites. I read about Second Life in a newspaper and was tickled by the concept of living an alternate life on the web," she says. Soon enough, Rashmi gathered several friends on the site who urged her to use her graphic art experience. The lehengas and cholis she designed in 2006 became a rage among wide-eyed Avatars from Japan, Europe and the US. Here's where she made a killing. Second Life might be a virtual universe, but nothing about it is any less human than the world we live in, or comes free. The users pay for the clothes, accessories and hair-dos their Avatars sport. One US dollar equals 260 Linden dollars (the currency that rules the Second Life universe).
Setting up virtual shop
It was time to turn entrepreneur and set up shop. Rashmi rented a little shop in the Second Life universe, starting off with selling just six outfits. An overwhelming response brought with it a shift in design sensibility; she moved from clichu00c3u00a9d Indian wear to ethnic fusion. Soon, she turned into the owner of a two-storey boutique called {Zaara}. She paid 1,000 dollars as deposit, and shells out 300 dollars every month as rental. "Yes, it's worth the investment."
There's calculated humility in her statement: "I don't remember how many outfits I've sold. Numbers run into thousands," Rashmi shrugs. Ironically, setting up a store that doesn't exist in the real world has made it possible for her to buy a two-bedroom apartment on Veera Desai Road in Andheri, something most professionals with 'real' jobs only dream of. "Virtual fashion has done well for me," admits Rashmi, who is the only Indian designer on Second Life.u00a0
It's serious business
Second Life was developed in 2003 by Philip Rosedale under the name Linden Lab. Devoid of caste and conflict that chokes humankind, Second Life comes with the promise of immortality and the gift of flawless bodies. Rashmi doesn't grapple with the headache of sizing or having to physically manufacture multiple orders. And yet, she's doesn't take her job lightly; she follows a seasonal calendar, and launches mini collections every 15 minutes. Pamphlets that advertise fresh collections of "Nishar leggings with unconventional high-waist options" are posted to shoppers via email, and a monsoon clearance is planned every June.
"June is the busiest time of the year," she confesses with a serious face. A friend in the US has been hired as a manager and is paid to "virtually" man the boutique. "Everyone looks good on Second Life," says Rashmi, whose own Avatar is named Zaara Kohime, blessed with a wholesome figure, and a fashion sense that's eons away from her own.
During our one-hour interview, more than ten Avatars have dropped in at {Zaara} to shop for tunics and dresses. We watch aghast as one virtual shopper chats with her boyfriend, sporting torn jeans, spiked hair and Popeye biceps (you can hear their conversation if you subscribe to voice chat). Rashmi's sprawling virtual boutique that overlooks a lake with lotuses in full bloom, all year through, is designed on the lines of a haveli, its wooden floors covered in Kashmiri carpets.
The ground floor houses lingerie, turtleneck tops, suits and ball gowns. Level one is dedicated to Indian wear and Nizam-inspired jewellery, the latteru00a0-- priced at 12 dollarsu00a0-- is the most expensive item at the boutique. A piece of jewellery takes a month to create.
Despite her surreal occupation, Rashmi is as mortal as the average young Indian woman. She is conscious about how her smile never looks good in a photograph, and how blow-dried hair has a mind of its own. Her lanky frame is dressed in a powder-blue baby doll blouse teamed with jeans, a skinny belt and ballerinas. "Being on Second Life is like going to a movie; you pay Rs 180 for a ticket to get entertained by actors. Here, you live and dress the part. It's the closest you can get to living your fantasyu00a0-- in stylish clothes."
