Women in Bars: Is it worth it?

Today, I was writing an article on date rape for rediff.com, which got me thinking about the subject. Scarily enough, we all seem to know someone who has gotten into some kind of trouble over drinks, with friends or acquaintances.

While I have to admit I’ve been hugely lucky, having side stepped any serious problems, there was one instance when a guy I’d met for the first time tried to drop a pill into my glass. Luckily, I saw him do it, and asked for a fresh drink.
I don’t like to imagine what might have happened if I hadn’t turned in time to see that!

Anyway, as I was writing the article, I was talking to various people to see what they felt about the issue. As people loosened up and started talking about the stories they have witnessed, each one of them mentioned the need for women to protect themselves. To make sure they didn’t go out with people they didn’t know, to stick to public places, watch their drinks at all times…

The more people I spoke to, the more it became evident that women didn’t feel completely safe anywhere. In any setting. With anyone. And in protecting themselves, there are so many restrictions that they place upon themselves, or their parents place upon them, that it almost doesn’t seem worth the trouble to go out!

We women watch what we wear even when we go to a nightclub. We make advance arrangements to get home after a party. And now, we watch our drinks like hawks. Instead of enjoying the party, maybe dancing and having a few drinks, we end up warily scanning the area around us and our drinks to make sure all’s well. We mentally analyse statements made by people we may not know too well. “Another drink?” could just as easily be interpreted as, “I’m trying to get you drunk.” If a woman is forced to continually watch her back even when supposedly having a good time, she is forced to ask herself, “What's even the point?”

Pramod Muthalik thinks we don’t belong in bars. We disagree. But if our men are going to prove him right, it doesn’t leave us with much of an argument.

Lakme Fashion Week: A glamourous circus

So Lakme Fashion Week is finally over and I have heaved my sighs of relief, had my long-overdue weekend and returned to work, glad that it doesn’t involve another designer outfit or impossibly perfect model.

I can also now look back at the excesses that I was buried under during those five days and take stock of some of the ironies I’ve seen.

One of them is always the model-craze. People seem to think that models are drop-dead gorgeous, sexy, and often, snobs. What I saw, however, was a total contradiction to this theory. Most of them are downright ugly, having lost their youth to too many cigarettes and too much makeup, bony and skinny, and far too attention-seeking to be snobbish. There will always be the leaders of the pack, the ones who are so high up in the pecking order that they can afford to toss their pretty, empty heads at the world and take another dainty sip for their wine glasses (but just one, dah-link…and of course no beer!).
But these are few and far between. Far more common are the lesser known faces who make up for their anonymity with the tiniest of shorts and plunging necklines, making sure their tinkling laughter is heard by all those in the vicinity, and hovering around anyone who has a media card. While they are too proud to ask to be interviewed, their intentions are more than clear when suddenly develop an interest in you after seeing you interview another model.

Then there are the celebrities that never fail to make an appearance at the Fashion Week. Perfectly made up faces that reveal very real flaws when you see them up-close scream out their status of being a has-been. But the media, oblivious to the obvious, will scamper up to them, begging for a sound bite, falling over themselves and other media persons in the hope of that perfect smile, delivered charmingly with a one-liner. Of course, these celebs are at an advantage, having rehearsed most of their lines at home, right from the origins of their outfits, to the state of Indian politics.
On the fringes of this activity, side-lined by the commotion and chaos these stars of the yesteryears are creating, are who should have been the real stars of the day. The young models, many of whom are walking for Lakme Fashion Week for the first time. Fresh-faced young ‘uns who haven’t lost their looks yet, enthusiastic, eager to do their best, with heads that aren’t yet swollen with a misplaced sense of importance . But nobody pays them any attention- after all; they haven’t carved a name for themselves yet.
Fair enough- but need we fawn over those who should have retired ten years ago either? So while these young girls and boys watch from the periphery of the action, we choose to pay homage to Preity Zinta’s huge dark circles (that even a kilo of concealer fails to hide) and flabby arms, or Naomi Campbell’s most unremarkable looks, instead of the young lissome lady with never-ending legs standing right beside them.
Ah, it’s the tussle between fame and beauty again- and guess who wins every time!

And then there are the fashion shows themselves. A total flood of outfits, enough to clothe the average young women for a lifetime! Most of them ugly, nearly all unwearable. And the bigger the designer, the more flamboyant his designs, the less wearable his creations, and the more outrageously priced. That’s the privilege of an established designer. He can create a dress made entirely out of feathers, with a huge butterfly perched upon the model’s breast, finished with light bulbs twinkling all over her- and the audience will hoot and applaud loudly, though none of the women clapping would be caught dead in such a hideous number!

While we all enjoy the flamboyance, we are forced to ask, isn’t the point of fashion to create something people can actually wear, and be seen in? Isn’t the point of a fashion show to showcase creations that actually make you want to buy them? Isn’t the point of a model to be, first and foremost, pretty, before all other things? And isn’t the point of getting new talent on the ramp to discover them?

Ah, well, the Lakme Fashion Week has earned itself a reputation- who are we to question it?
Ours is simply to watch and take with a pinch of salt the circus we see.