18 September,2009 08:19 AM IST | | Shweta Shiware
Starting today, Lakmu00e9 Fashion Week is in town for a seasonal bi-annual visit. For the next 5 days, Indian designers, models, make-up artists, stylists, public relations personnel, logistical teams, choreographers, buyers, social butterflies, even caterers will coalesce at a city 5-star to spin an intricate web of style headlines. The thing about this event is that it pulsates with nervous but positive energy, while being laced with a certain capricious quality. Lofty expectations to present an A-grade show, one that tops the imagination chart while sprinkling just the right dose of celeb glamour, make some designers a schizophrenic bunch that wakes up to your byline, and roam the corridors of the venue mouthing rehearsed lines fortified with flattery to editors.
Some try and play the community card, throw in a liberal dose of Marathi, my mother tongue, while some confess their sudden interest in creating a special something for me. And then, there's the lot that confronts me with an admission, even if after knocking down a couple of rum-and-cokes - that I'm tough to please. An inherent character flaw problem ensures I turn into an introvert while in crowd. A whimsical trait that's often misunderstood, one that might make me standoffishly evil. Not that that keeps me up at nights. Being nice is grossly overrated anyway. But to assume that my wrath will slash garments that cross my way, is a miscalculation, if not an amusing magnification.
PR personnel representing the designer brigade carry a confused look on their face if you sneak in a line critiquing their client's show. Then there is a Bollywood designer who mouths, "You will cut me in pieces, no?" as if almost admitting that he botched up. Conversing with a designer a little over 15 minutes could get interpreted as a "buttering-up" chat. A look of serious concentration on my face when clothes walk on to the ramp at assembly line speed does that mean she hates the collection? What should I do? A dilemma that slices your sanity in half. I find the answer every time I do a quick rewind to a brief meeting with the czarina of fashion writing, IHT fashion editor Suzy Menkes (often called Samurai Suzy for her brazenly honest temperament that didn't spare even Karl Lagerfield). I asked her how she managed to strike a balance. She said, "I am not their friend. I am very happy and pleased to know them. But you have to be honest to yourself."
