High heels don146;t hurt

Each designer, organiser or journalist I8217;ve met is consumed with the idea of 8220;the business of fashion8221;. Sadly, everyone8217;s missed the point. The business of fashion is the business of glamour. If no one cared about their own physical appearance, who would want to wear expensive designer clobber?

Eight years of fashion weeks, and we still paint such a serious image of the industry, it8217;s almost a joke in itself. No one wants to know how much money a designer has made, which stores have ordered how much; it8217;s important but it isn8217;t interesting.

Because fashion is about sex and seduction, about fantasy and aspirations; it8217;s a make-believe world that both insiders should uphold and outsiders should vicariously indulge in. Why be everyday when you can be extraordinary?

Keeping stars and socialites out of fashion week is the latest fad we8217;re feigning indulgence in. Surprising, since we ape everything the West chucks up. Celebrities have been pushing fashion commodities since the beginning of the 20th century, even before the first fashion show ever took place. This was when dressmakers had begun to be considered as 8216;artists of the cloth8217;; the effects of fashion could be read in the works of Balzac and Baudelaire in Paris, and Oscar Wilde in London. In New York and Boston, the artist John Singer Sargent documented the 8216;over-investment in the world of appearances8217;. Women of polite society such as Isadora Duncan, Josephine Baker and Sarah Bernhardt, were appointed to seriously discuss their clothing options. In the first decades of the 20th century, legendary couturier Paul Poiret, for whom New York8217;s The Metropolitan Museum hosted a mega retrospective last year, would engineer a thematic party as a backdrop to his seasonal collections.

No one would go to the new hot-ticket Roland Mouret8217;s show if Nicole Kidman, Sienna Miller or Scarlet Johansson weren8217;t sitting in his front row. Gianni Versace would probably not have the reach he did if he wasn8217;t plumped up by his gal pals Madonna and Elizabeth Hurley. And John Galliano wouldn8217;t be the legend he is if his shows didn8217;t indulge in the theatrics they do.

Our homegrown Sheetal Mafatlal, once an avid Manish Malhotra fan, is now pushing Valentino dresses in India. Even before the Italian couturier8217;s store opened in India, Mafatlal8217;s ostentations had impressed the journos at Time so much that they heralded her as 8220;India8217;s fashion-retail pioneer8221;.

India, on the cusp of being a fashion and luxury giant, suffers from a serious disorder: reverse lookism. We need to constantly apologise for looking good and dressing well. We must be held guilty for the joy of spending our hard earned money on something special. Or else, heaven help us, someone might think we8217;re stupid.

It8217;s the Ugly Betty syndrome 8212; Jassi Jaisi Koi Nahin for you. The tall and thin are bulemic, the pretty ones are nasty bitches and the not-so attractive ones are the only nice people around. Beauty is the opposite of brainy and vanity is a vice. As fashion chronicler Stella Blum said: 8220;Fashion is so close in revealing a person8217;s inner feelings and everybody seems to hate to lay claim to vanity, so people tend to push it away8221;.

Simplicity is overrated; but try telling that to a mother looking for a bride for her Boston MBA-ed son. What if she overshadows her husband/ma-in-law or has an affair? Or a woman who prefers going to an interview for her dream job in a sober salwar kameez instead of the twin-set she spent a pretty penny at Mango for? What if the CEO thinks she8217;s a bimbo/slut?

So, if a fashion designer is photographed partying at night, he obviously does no work during the day. If he hangs around with celebrities, he is no talent to speak of. And if socialites attend his show, well, buyers won8217;t buy his clothes. Makes sense? No, especially when more often than not, the reverse is true.

The new venue of Delhi8217;s fashion week is a microcosm in many ways; it8217;s a metaphor for the au courant status quo of the industry. We think it8217;s a trade event being held in the most practical, unglamorous four walls we could find, only to convert it cosmetically into something quite lovely. We trudge into the complex, sticky and dusty, and then enter the air-conditioner-chilled hall and forget all that we leave behind. The show area is, much like fashion, an escape from reality into a fantasy world where everything is shiny, happy and, well, beautiful.

I say we stop pretending. Bring on the peroxide socialites. Twist all arms to get the Bipashas, Vidyas, Priyankas and Ranis on your front rows; it8217;s the Bollywood gals who take fashion to the street. I say we all dress up for the next fashion week; chic dresses, high heels, designer bags et al. And we8217;ll never go back to being simple and stupid again.