Press iha pe allowed nahi hain.” Ten minutes before I am supposed to report for work to Meher Mirchandani and Riddhima Whabi at Pragati Maidan, I run into a burly block of a guard. It’s the duo’s debut at the Wills Lifestyle India Fashion Week and I’m going backstage to be a designer’s assistant—if I can charm my way through this sentinel of high fashion, that is. I cannot. A smile doesn’t work, nor does pleading. Frantic calls to Meher and Riddhima yield a metallic drone: number unreachable. Damn. As if being thrown into the chaos of a green room an hour before leggy beauties take the ramp isn’t unnerving enough. I know my pin-tucks and ruches and drapes better than most, but to ensure the show doesn’t trip on a hitch can be a challenge. Finally, I spot a familiar face. It’s the venue-in-charge and she ushers me in. Inside the green room, we find Meher and Riddhima chatting with Drashta Sarvaiya, the other debutante with whom they are sharing their show. “Oh there you are, “ Riddhima calls out. The buzz around the Dubai-based duo has been building up since they launched their label Affascinare a couple of months back in the capital. But they are surprisingly relaxed for a debut. The clothes catch my eye. Dazzling whites with colourful embellishments at the neckline and cuffs, interesting drapes and tucks—the journalist in me is already planning out the opening statements of the show review. But no, right now, I had a job to do. I pick out a particularly pretty one with raglan sleeves and steal a quick glance at the mirror. Our photographer Ruhani chuckles. I hastily stuff the garment at the back of the rack and get to work. “Come, let’s get the clothes sorted,” says Riddhima. In the choreography of swaying hips and swishing silks, timing is all. The models have only a couple of minutes to come in from the ramp, change their outfits, touch up their faces and sashay back to the runway. And here’s where hanging the clothes in the right order matters. A garment on the wrong rack could mean the show coming apart at the seams.I nod confidently and look at the clothes already on the rack. Riddhima’s reeling off techniques and details while Meher oversees me with the clothes. Then the models traipse in. Poonam Nath is the first in, followed by Lakshmi Rana and seniors like Nayonika Chatterjee. The newer girls, Nolana and Diva and Donna follow. The green room is suddenly abuzz with their conversations and laughter and I relax a bit. Rana looks at me with half a smile while Manasvi asks me in a loud whisper what I was up to. As I finish with the last lot, Riddhima comes up to me and runs a quick check. “Where’s the white dress, the one with the raglan sleeves?” she asks. Oops, I look guiltily at Ruhani before putting the ensemble back in queue. Soon, it’s time for the show to begin. The clothes are simple—all white with a dash of colour at the neck and sleeves, and quite a contrast from the dressy, ornate pieces they had created for their India launch a couple of months back. In keeping with the theme the make-up and hairstyles are minimal. The girls are ready in a jiffy, even though there are mutterings of discontent here and there. Krishna’s not happy with her pouffed hair and one of the girls has a pair of shoes that are a tight squeeze—enough ammo to lead to big flare-ups at many fashion weeks. But the women keep their peace. I take my place with Meher and Riddhima in front of the television screen outside the ramp entrance. “Nervous?” I ask. The girls shake their heads. No. As the first model glides out, all three of us take a collective breath. On screen, we can see a full house and we smile at each other. As the models get into the second lot of ensembles, one of them, Diva does a quick jig backstage. There’s crackling excitement in the air. “Do you think people will like it?” Meher turns to me anxiously For once, the journalist in me takes a backseat. “Yes they will,” I tell her firmly, and fervently hope they do. Sometimes the dazzling strobe lights can make dreams come true.
