The Night of the Coiffeur a.k.a A Tress Story

Last evening, Nandita and I were invited by some friends of ours to attend a re-launch party of an old spa downtown Mumbai to promote their hairstyling services (yes, that is true – hairstyling). It was a while since we had partied townside, so we took off and reached the Taj hotel in Colaba in good time.

Opening the event, we had the Honourable Minister for Women and Children Development, Mrs. Renuka Chaudhry. Her five minutes were priceless – starting off with India’s growth rate of 9% plus – trying to make the golden connection between that statistic and a Page 3 do, but failing miserably – exhorting the audience and the spa to protect the girl child in Punjab and Madhya Pradesh (the party political bit, as I call it, though why those two states were singled out, I have no clue) – ending up congratulating the spa for the wonderful new initiative they were embarking upon – had the entire audience tittering maliciously. I almost expected her to ask the spa to donate Rs. 10 or so out of each haircut and style job to a dedicated women and children’s charity, but alas, but alas…

The other joke of the evening was a corporate video by Bisleri – its just water right? Ok, I grant you its mineral water. Unbelievable but true. The video talked about the disadvantages of using the best of hair care products from the L’Oreals and Bath and Body Works of the world with “plain” tap water in the shower and why this is the best and only strongest reason for making an investment case for piping Bisleri through your home plumbing system. One of these days, people I tell you, one of these days… But that is a topic for another rant.

The evening also saw more than its fair share of women with a high bovine disposition coefficient and overweighed by their baubles to boot, elbowing one another to be part of the camera eye. Not to be outdone, some of the men came dressed in bright and bizzare costumes – faux leopard skin jackets, lots of neck bling et al – I was running for my shades. The media had a field day, from what I could see.

The events themselves, overseen by an overenthusiastic compere who was just a tad short of fellating the microphone, comprised a fashion show featuring some of our more anorexic beauties and some beefcake specimens showcasing some pieces of cloth (sorry, I know they certainly cost more than I make in a year but still…) as well as a jewellery show. The models included our familiar faces – Carol Gracias, Nina Manuel, Vidisha Pavate and Jesse Randhawa, among others – doing their “I’m a model, you know what I mean, I do my little turn on the catwalk” routine

The two segues that I quite liked were the brief showcases of salsa and cha-cha performed by Sandeep Soparkar’s ensemble (?). Sandeep, together with Kitu Gidwani, himself also enthralled us with a sequence from Ravel’s Bolero and the lady was simply gorgeous.

The highpoint of the evening however was – a showcase of coiffeur, modelled and shown off by the members of the spa, most of whom were ancient. Of the last, I just admired the panache of an old Parsee lady who was dressed in the style of a 1920s flapper or Garconne, ramp walking to the tune of Ma Baker – oh, such zest and verve, I simply adored her flamboyance on the catwalk!!! Other styles modelled included colored hair, streaked hair, hair made up like an unfurled peacock, spiky hair, grecian curls, a pre-Star Trek Persis Khambatta, Chaka Khan-esque and so on and so forth – some of which were positively ghastly to watch.

I also bumped into a couple of banker friends of mine and couldn’t resist joking ask them if they were funding any of this. We shared a laugh, though one of them looked sheepish, hahahaha. We left after the show and turned in for a quiet dinner at the Ali Baba Clay Oven, nearby, before heading home. All told, an opportunity to observe the swish set up close and personal and coming away unimpressed.

Cheers
S

PS: It is at times like these that I prefer the cynical cut and thrust of Zappa’s albums. I am playing Have I Offended Someone while I write this up.