At Fittings

Welcome. Welcome to my world. Let me show you around. But, before I do, I need to clarify a few things. You might have heard of Hemmingway. A master story-teller. For the duration of this article, I'm adopting his technique. The 'fly on the wall', it's called. It means playing observer rather than participant. Recording events as they happen, without self-interference.

Now that that's clear, welcome to my world. Sorry for the seeming confusion, it'll be sorted out as we go along. We will be spending the day at fittings for Tarun Tahiliani's show, kicking off the Fall-Winter 1995 fashion season.

The one holding the file is Mehr. She's in charge. You might know her. Her full name is Mehr Jessia. She's choreographing the show. It's for Tarun Tahiliani of Ensemble, one of Bombay's leading fashion stores.

The models are here. It's a big show. Even models from Delhi have been flown down. Sonalika Oberoi greets me, "For once, we're in your city."

It's true. More and more shows are now being held, not in Bombay, but in the capital city. Numerous Indian designers are Delhi-based. "This show is a big one, hmm... it's starting the season." Sonalika is right. This show kicks off the season and, from now on, the pace will be hectic, climaxing in October.

There is a lot of excitement at fittings. Most of the models are meeting after a long break. Mehr distributes cue-sheets for rehearsals the next day. The sheets are essential to ramp modelling - they outline each designer's sequence and the number of entries each model will have in the show.

There are new faces today, apart from the regular ramp models. Amidst the excited chatter of the known ones, these new faces stand apart - hesitant, watchful... testing the waters. Their behaviour pattern is a matter of course. Each model goes through it. Almost a rites of passage. With a few more shows, these girls will relax, be themselves... interact. They will become family. But not today. Not yet.

Information is being exchanged in the flurry of fittings. News flies back and forth. Jaesie and Inder Sudan are married. Soft-spoken Jaesie is besieged with congratulations. Vahbiz Mehta, in-charge of backstage, much adored by choreographers and models alike, pretends outrage at the news. "I speak to you everyday, Jaesie... you didn't tell me you got married!"

"It slipped my mind," Jaesie tells her. Her spontaneous rejoinder evokes laughter. It is a fast-paced world, this world of mine, and what is humorous in some lights, is nevertheless an accurate portrayal of the state of affairs.

Beverly Soares is greeted enthusiastically. Pursuing an MBA in Pune, she is not as frequent on the ramp as earlier. Consequently, any appearance she puts in is welcome.

Inquiries about models not doing this show fly back and forth. There is another show in another city, so some of the models are not with us. But they will be encountered along the course of the season. A close knit fraternity, this world of mine, physical proximity entwining personal and professional bonds at times.

Even as conversation takes place, fittings are in progress. Clothes are admired as they are worn, compliments exchanged if an outfit suits the model trying it on. An outsider can catch genuine affection amongst the group present today.

At Rehearsal

The first run is in progress. Some of the models did a show in the afternoon, so they have arrived with full make-up on. Namrata Shirodkar is looking particularly good. As the girls comment on how good she looks, Beverly sums it up, cheekily, "She can't help it, poor thing. Even when the 'look' (for the show) is outrageous and some of us look ghastly, Namo will look beautiful. Always."

Models sitting nearby agree. Namrata has a face one can't go wrong with. It is a world based on outward appearances, my world. Like the milkmaid said to the sailor, in a nursery rhyme, "My face is my fortune." The jingle holds true in my world. Too true, in fact.

Each model is aware of her own appearance in itself, as also in relation to the rest. It is a competitive family, this; critical too, with the brutal honesty born out of public adulation. But also appreciative, warmly appreciative, where deserved. Flaws may be pointed out, but so are plus points. The competition can only be healthy.

Rehearsal progresses. Mehr steps in to walk one of the absent models' entry, so that the music timing does not go wrong. Watching Mehr walk the ramp, I overhear another model, "She's got such a sturdy walk". Her comment triggers my own thought process. To the model in me, Mehr will always be special. To the writer in me, Mehr will always be the original.

There used to be excellent ramp models. And print models. And television models. Then, when I was 15, Mehr Jessia was crowned Miss India. And she was everywhere. The Indian Super Model arrived with her.

In the years to come, I would remain 15 no longer. The teenage vision of Mehr would be qualified by personal encounter. In the years to come, a national level athlete vying for the Miss Universe crown would be placed in the top three, opening the doors of opportunity for her successors by making the world take notice.

Soon after, a green-eyed beauty, introducing herself as 'Sanjna' in a high-visibility television advertisement would capture a nation's heart and the Miss World Crown. A Femina Miss India, voicing Mehr as one of her favourite models on Doordarshan, would go on to win the Miss Universe title.

The years to come would indeed hold a lot of promise. Mehr would not be the only Indian Super Model. But, to me, she is the first - the original. But I am straying - Hemmingway's technique is hard to maintain, playing observer rather than actor, a strain... However...

Rehearsal continues. It is hot, so very hot. Despite the heat, there are no temper displays. Sometimes, working in close proximity or under not-so-favourable weather conditions, irritability surfaces. As with the best of families, there are chaffed nerves, misunderstandings... but not today. Happy to be back, excited in each others' company, the models are co-operative and, because work is smooth, rehearsals finish early.

On D-Day: pre-show

It is the day of the show and, since I live closest to the venue, I am the first to be summoned for hair and make-up. For a show scheduled in the late evening, most models report by 10 am for pre-show preparations which include, at times, a dress rehearsal. It is fated that, for this particular show, there should be some unfashion-related excitement.

As make-up and hair are in progress, someone bursts into the room, wildly animated, "There is a rumour, spreading like wildfire, that Ganpati idols across the nation are drinking milk." Pandemonium results. Everyone wants a radio; a telephone to call home to check the truth.

There is a makeshift temple a little away from the venue, in a crook of a huge tree. Some models slip away as the day wears on, to experience this strange phenomenon for themselves. They return, wildly excited, endorsing truth in the rumour.

More models wish to go. Mehr is distraught. The discipline of pre-show moments, nervy as it often is, is almost peaceful in the face of this new frenzy. Concentration on the show seems broken by this little interlude. But that's just an appearance. This close-knit little fraternity is nothing, if not professional.

Ten minutes to show time, and a few nerves are on display. Just a while before, there were prayers, a coconut was cracked for an auspicious start. Silent tradition, more often than not, a ritual before a lot of shows... God and work are taken very seriously here, as elsewhere. A simple family, this one, for all its outward trappings of glamour.

Two minutes to Show - best wishes are exchanged in hurried whispers, clothes and accessories adjusted, expressions too. All ears are tuned to that first beat of music that will launch the Tarun Tahiliani Fall-Winter Collection 1995. And the commencement of Fashion Season '95.

Post show

The consensus is overwhelming - it has been a good show. Keeping the stringent standards of models in the show in mind, classifying a show as 'good' is a high stamp of approval. Since they see designer clothes in major cities at one stretch, models can classify clothes better than the most ardent fashion writer. Instinctively a good collection is noticed, as a bad one is talked ill of: but only amongst each other, never to the outside world, where a wrong feeler may affect the sales of the collection in question.

It is very important for a fashion collection to be liked by the audience for therein lie the buyers. But it is equally important that each model likes the show. And, undoubtedly the first show of the season is a hit with its models.

Pack-up time, now. Time for me to stop playing Hemmingway. Tomorrow there will be another rehearsal, another choreographer, perhaps other models. But tomorrow is another day. For tonight there is success, a job well done... The show season has irrevocably begun!