Fashion schmashion -- I want pasted-on eyebrows

Another one bites the dust -- yes, friends, Lakme India Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2007 has come to a close.

I could wax philosophic about the nascent fashion industry in the subconty, rant about the irony of Fashion TV being banned during fashion week, discuss the rise of the consumer and the urge toward luxury brands, or perhaps even gossip a bit about how cool it would be if Tyrant Banks brought her unholy prote-bitches to walk for a show in Delhi.

But I'd much rather let one iconic image speak for itself: Behold the unusual stylings of Vikram Phadnis, who sent an army of models down the catwalk that were attempting to bring sexy back by hearkening to the halcyon days of the Marx brothers.

Nothing says "that's haute" quite like two caterpillars pasted onto a beautiful woman's (transexual's?) forehead.

I'm a total bitch, but...

Fanny packs: So '90s, right?

(Tongue firmly in cheek. I don't mean to make fun, but it just seems so incongruous. Can't he put his rupees in a slightly less conspicuous place?)

Ugly outfit, uglier reaction

They're not the fashion police, but Bollywood star Mallika Sherawat's New Year's ensemble was spicy enough to attract an official investigation after a social worker complained she and her act were obscene.

At left, you'll notice Sherawat in what appears to be stripper wear: glittery g-string, barely there bikini top, and incomprehensible chaps. But really, what makes it all the more hideous is that it's stripper wear attached to a flesh-colored bodysuit; skintight, but certainly not endangering the audience with the threat of her lady bits.

I could and will quibble with the outfit. However, the reaction it's attracted is more odious than any bedazzled wonder she could have donned. SHE IS ABSOLUTELY, FULLY CLOTHED. And even if she wasn't, how is this any more obscene than the photos that are routinely printed in the city tabloids? Than the stars that romp through waterfalls for passionate kisses (or simulated sex) on the big screen? Correct me if I'm wrong, but she was performing at a private party. If you don't like it, leave your swank, five-star Mumbai Marriott and get drunk on expensive booze elsewhere.

I know there are a lot of people who will take this up and start crying about saving the children, etc., but much as I malign her, Mallika did kinda think about the kids here. There's nary a possibility for an upskirt shot here because she's encased in a beige sausage casing, festooned with sparkles. It's not an outfit I'd choose, but you could do worse (Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, I hope your vaginas are listening).

I do sort of wish she'd gone whole hog, just performed in a bikini, but I just don't know if the nation could handle it.

Pri-yucky Chopra

"Psst...Priyanka. That dress? Sorta Dancing With the Stars, but also: nice rack."

"Tee hee...I know!"

"But, um. You know, the beanie? Did some Bollywood hussy rip out, you know, a significant portion of your epidermis, or, um..."

"Just keep smiling, and keep your eyes off my bling."

"And, you know, one more thing. Your arms? And your legs? They're different colors. But still, fab, darling. Fab."

(Credit where credit is due: Salmaan Khan and Priyanka Chopra walk the ramp at the Salaam-e-Ishq music launch; PTI photo carried by HT.)

Thank you, HT photographer Amlan Dutta, for capturing this photograph of Kajol arriving at the premiere of Baabul on December 6.

As the peanut gallery gossips behind her, Kajol smiles through her pain -- and calls her publicist.

"Hi, Hari. I thought you told me ponchos were still an acceptable substitute for a chic shawl. It's bloody cold, but I wanted to look sexy, and yet I hear whispers that umpteen yards of polyester strung together in a fringed chain mail is something of a faux pas. Furthermore, your advice on the bag covered in disarrayed pailletes? Crap. Finally, a waistband, ankle bands, and billowing cotton/spandex are nary a substitute for proper pants. In other words, you're fired."

Pantsless fug

Alright. I can overlook the fact that the person who wrote the headline considers these women as adorned with "a bit of glitter" -- the pink outfit, though perhaps not immediately apparent from my poor reproduction of the picture, appears to have been constructed nearly entirely from the remains of a disco ball repurposed after the dismantling of Delhi's latest passe party place. Also disturbing, but not entirely unnerving, are the hairpieces that the women have been styled in: detachable buns styled as if these dainty flowers have just disembarked from a cross-city jaunt on an Enfield or Bajaj scooter.

No, what bothers me most is the nearly nude...churidar? Footless tights? Leggings? The top is an appropriate (if more-than-slightly tacky) dress, but coupling it with some bastard stepchild of Mary Kate Olsen's skintight retro capris and the traditional Indian bottom is confounding, to say the least. Furthermore, if you're so intent on making this the next big thing, why not, at the very least, make the untoward garment the color of the darker stripe, so as to prevent our fine but perhaps more Simpsons-esque sisters the embarrassment of explaining that yes, they are indeed wearing pants?

Fugging Indian fashion

In the grand tradition of incredibly important blogs such as Go Fug Yourself and Manolo's Shoe Blog, I present a new (intermittent) series, provisionally entitled "Fugging Indian Fashion." I am not sartorially gifted. I nearly always look rumpled and occasionally, I have wardrobe malfunctions: once when I was in a high school concert as the first-chair flute, I wore a tight white shirt with only a lacy white push-up underneath, and a button failed in front of a horrified audience of about 100 well wishers. Perhaps I am not qualified to critique the fashions of others. However, India presents a unique challenge: so many beautiful people, such horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE style. Never before have I met someone who thought it appropriate to wear a bright blue T-shirt bearing the word "FUCK" -- in 200-point Helvetica, no less! -- on casual Friday at a Very Important Multinational Company. My first victim is Sarah Jane, a VJ on what I presume is an MTV imitator (though she might, indeed, work for the desi MTV). Inappropriately placed vinyl belt? Check. Jaunty, albeit ill-fitting, capris over textured tights, conspiring to make a lovely, perfectly sized girl look like an obese leprechaun? Check. White shoes after Labor Day? Check. Superfluous laces? Check. Seriously, check out her expression. Even she doesn't buy what she's wearing.