What’s the browhaha
Indians are certainly raising eyebrows here. And we mean literally too. Suddenly, the trend for eyebrow maintenance has become de rigeueur for fashion folk and celebrities — and it’s the Indian contingent leading the way in this department. None other than Harrods has launched an eyebrow corner — The Brow Bar — in their lavish Urban Retreat zone of beauty treatments. And the specialist running that show is Shavata, who goes by only her first name — rather like Madonna. Shavata’s celebrity clientele includes Cherie Blair, Cher and Belinda Carlisle among others — she’s even launched her own range of brow utensils now sold at high street giant Marks & Spencer.
‘‘It’s all taken off very quickly,’’ said Shavata when I hooked up with her at Harrods recently. ‘‘It was after I did the eyebrows for a senior Vogue editor that my name got around because she felt that a simple eyebrow tidy does the equivalent of a mini-facelift. You instantly look fresher and younger.’’ Nothing like her quick wax-and-tweeze.
Slow Roast, Bangla style
You would think the observation comes from a traditional Brit, possibly a blue-blooded aristo and definitely a patriot, right? Wrong.
This is Bangladeshi-born restaurant-success story owner Iqbal Wahhab. Having done his bit to spice up the Bangladeshi spread at UK curry houses — and changing the pub night out for a certain section of society as 10 pints followed by a vindaloo — he then created one of the most successful Indian restaurants in London, the Cinnamon Club at Westminster.
‘‘I don’t like getting bored so I needed another challenge,’’ says the LSE graduate. ‘‘And what could be a greater challenge than bringing that element of success to British cooking’s reputation?’’
So, on the site of Britain’s oldest surviving food market, Borough Market, Iqbal is launching Roast this month. Here’s to suckling pigs and rotating chickens!
Marrying Indira, BBC’s Mother India
This week, BBC’s documentary Indira Gandhi: The Killing of Mother India was billed as showing previously unseen footage. At first, however, it looked as though it had cast all the usual suspects: there was commentary by Sir Mark Tully (who described Bhindranwale as ‘‘not particularly intelligent, but definitely charismatic’’), plus interviews with Arun Nehru et all. It didn’t help that the documentary launched immediately into cliches — the late prime minister was a 20th century icon who was ‘‘loved and loathed in equal measures’’, she was also regarded as being ‘‘the architect of her own demise’’. But Nick Read who produced, directed and wrote the programme, wove in the fascinating footage of her wedding to a handsome young Feroze Gandhi.
And it was this depiction of a blossoming young woman, who arrived in Britain to study at Oxford as a shy teenager, yet returned to India to marry a man her father had misgivings about which won it most points.
Green tea-ser, this one
‘‘When I was researching the cuisine for Zuma, I discovered all the different properties for green teas and white teas. There is so much that we haven’t tapped into yet.’’ And then, Divia Teas made it to Harrods and Harvey Nichols. I’m assuming she’s not taking them back to the East just yet.