It was one of those famous fashion week nights, when the creatures of the underworld from the ninth floor ramps and backstage crawled up to the rooftop bar for much-needed fresh air and a bucket of booze to wash off the day’s running from show to show, air kiss to air kiss, criticism, blogging, social media updates and fabulously fake hellos and compliments.
It was one of those famous fashion week nights, when the creatures of the underworld from the ninth floor ramps and backstage crawled up to the rooftop bar for much-needed fresh air and a bucket of booze to wash off the day’s running from show to show, air kiss to air kiss, criticism, blogging, social media updates and fabulously fake hellos and compliments.
Even though I believe I have become a “sadhu who gave away his Gucci” I must acknowledge these fashion week parties are still a lot of fun (if attended in moderation and with some fabulous friends). It’s the best place for people watching, just like bird watching. You see them in all fabulous colours and shapes and sizes and showing off their summer plumage attracting potential mates for the night or maybe just showing off. It is as they say “fabulous....”
There are all kinds, you can hear someone a faux-socialite (fake wannabe socialite) cribbing about how it’s so boring nowadays to attend these parties and yet you see him attending each and every party possible and of course, clicking selfies with anyone, who is even mildly famous from A to D list. Another thing, in case you didn’t know it’s uber cool to say “Gosh, I can’t stand this fakeness around all these fashion events”. (Of course, said while blowing a fake kiss at a frenemy (friendly enemy), whose dress and weight will be analysed and criticised as soon as she turns.
There’s nothing more fun than people watching at these parties, where the laws of the nature are reversed. The only thing that rules this world is fame and connections. You will see a gorgeous someone giggling and falling all over a weird looking, ugly creature, which will never happen in nature otherwise, so you wonder why? Till your socially aware friend tells you that the creature is the owner of blah, blah, blah and super connected.
You will also meet people, who have no interest in you otherwise because you aren’t connected enough or important enough but the same person will suddenly try and pretend to be your bestie because a very famous actress came running through the crowd and gave you a big kiss and told everyone around how she loves you and how you were there with her even when she was a nobody blah, blah and boom you have arrived!
You also meet people who you have known forever and who have become fashion power houses over the years and yet managed to retain all the genuine yummy warm awesomeness that was their back then (Divyak D’Souza, Daman Chaudhari, Manish Mishra.. yes I’m taking names) ha ha ha.
No matter what, I love fashion week parties also because it reminds me of the time when I was in school and we were the backstage minions to my dearest the one and only Vahbiz Mehta (who literally introduced me and many more like me to this crazy, shiny world). She would get me passes for these parties and that would be the highlight of the week. Back then, partying was just fun and nothing more, no agendas, no trying to be seen, no impressing people, nothing! Just having fun getting drunk with friends and occasionally dancing on bar top. I think, for me, it still is just that, just a night of crazy fun. Oh yes, and I have grown up since then (grown up in size I mean), so no dancing on top of bars.
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 "Rick's Ramblings: Bird watching at Fashion Week")
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