double trouble

buy one, get one free!! on jeans, jacket, shirt! limited offer!!!

you know, mysterious things draw people together. on this occasion, it was a b.o.g.o. sale that drew jimmy and jackie together. let's eavesdrop a little, shall we?

jimmy: jackie da, you could have at least worn your eye-den-tical clothes to a different do, on a different day.

jackie: first of all, take your hand off my butt.

jimmy: sorry, jackie da. magar...

jackie: bhidu, look carefully, it's only the jeans that are from the b.o.g.o. sale we went together to. the jacket and shirt are from last year's sale. i've worn them before too (see here for proof). terey ko mamu banaya na?

jackie: aur ek baat sun le bhidu. back in the day, when i used to go to school by train, which was pulled by a steam engine, the driver used to be this dude chucking coal from the bin into the furnace to keep the thing chugging along. that bandanna i'm wearing...it's authentic. it's his. i stole it when he wasn't looking and i knew i could put it to use sometime in the future. mast item, no?

jimmy: psst, jackie da, the cameraman wants our picture, i think.

waif and watch

till now bollywood and its environs only knew of tawaifs. the new animal on the block, it seems, is a waif. i thought indians liked their women well, um, filled out. when did kate moss become the flavor du jour? and what is this uufo seeking here, pray someone tell me? it can't be food, because i can see her bumpy belly. unless there is a different cause to the bump. clearly, clothing is also not her cause. we're not debating the lack of fashion sense here, what with a potato sack wrapped casually around her neck. and if the golden chappals and balloons are any indication, she's not a social pariah either, and probably not lacking shelter. so, dusky emaciated maiden, what is it that thou seeketh?

what do you think of THIS?

if i ever saw a bad photoshop job, this has to be it. it looks like mandira's head was screwed on wrong onto someone else's body. i mean, we all know her head is screwed on wrong by just watching her cricket shows. but that's a whole different topic. what i'm intrigued by here is how this gladiator-in-red-complete-with-golden-sandals came to sit under that head. from the look on mandira's face, it looks like she's as surprised as the rest of us. maybe, as her eyebags suggest, some r & r will provide us the answer. shuteye is always a good solution when things like this assail you between the eyes.

the morning after?

maybe all that koffee has gone to his head. maybe it's the morning after the night. maybe manish malhotra had a tiff with him the previous night. maybe...oh, fish it. why am i making excuses for this hideousity (how's that for a new word, karan?) from the young mr., er, umm, ya, mr. johar? at least he seems to have all items of clothing on in the right order. italian shoes? check. pants? check. banian? check, but banian untucked? vest over untucked banian? what??? okay, okay, check. jacket? does it really matter...oh alright, check.

meanwhile in the background, we read dino morea's thought: "what a jackass! ha ha ha!!"

there's treasure everywhere

bappi: heh, heh. gold is not my only bling. i have my chins and my pot. and note the natty vest too, ki bolchi?

anupam: are these guys for real?

rakhi: see this outfit. i'm standing next to god of golden bling. and i'm actually overshadowing him, beating him at his own game. good, no!

prem: what is she pointing at? is there an anti-glare potion i can take? i'm glad i'm standing behind these walking fort knoxes. and wearing shades. i must remember not to buy them from the roadside "imported sunglasses" vendor though next time.

bappi: heh, heh.

rakhi: what do you mean "that's too much gold?" if you want bad wardrobe, see this ladies next to me.

prem: excuse me, but if you let me open my mouth, i can show you the gold filling in my dentures.

bappi: gold in the denchaars? ha, ha, ha. don't make me laugh.

party theme: outdo the outlandish

just putting bappida ups the ante quite a bit when it comes to the garishness stakes. his quintal of golden bling and two-ton chins apart, he now adds horrific jacket purchased, from the looks of it, either in chor bazaar, mumbai or chinatown, nyc ("yeh imp-hort-ad mawl hai!"). but add a bloated meghna naidu in a dyed-black potato sack and assorted uufos in sashes, and mutilated saris, you have a picture to treasure. thank you, george eastman, thank you all of the pioneers of the camera, for making this moment possible.

ode to bappi, part 2

newly-wed mrs. abhishek bachchan had already paid tribute to her in-laws, to the lord god of tirupati and myriad other figureheads, but apparently, her post-marriage tribute would not be complete without an ode--a photographical one albeit--to the god of gold around his bodily self, viz., bappida. check out the similarity between ash above and bappida here. the number of chins alone make the resemblance startling, dontcha think?

one-liner: a for aaaaargh-desh

it's not isty-bitsy or teeny-weeny or even a bikini, but a polka-dotted cross between chunky pandey in curly wig and a smart dressed count of transylvania it certainly is.

one-liners

so, i figured i've been lax again in keeping up my word on consistently and regularly posting on here. and while the main reason i post here is to write and comment on the pix i find, i find that also is the reason i shirk from my duty of even bringing said pix to the attention of the adoring public.

henceforth, whether i have the time to say something or not, when i find a twinkling star worth showcasing here, i will do so, with or sans comment. these i have dubbed one-liners: they will, as the least acknowledgement for their having made it here, be accompanied by a single line of prose or poetry as the case may be.

hope you enjoy them as much as the long form.

ode to bappi

may he never grow old

may he never run out of gold.

whether he wants to stuff himself with clam chowder

or cake his face with talcum powder,

whether he fills his belly with beer,

or whatever else that brings him cheer,

may his chins never cease to wobble,

may he always have enough to gobble.

bappida, may you and your horizons always grow broader

as you provide for this blog more and more fodder.

what's that on your arm?

it's a zebra! it's a black bear!! it's a black bear disguised as a zebra!!!
oh wait, it's just another uufo whose animal instincts seem to have gotten the better of any couture sense she may have ever had. then again, that might be crediting a uufo with too much sense in the first place. n'est pas?

spot the ten differences

here's a little game for y'all: spot the ten differences between the above-pictured person and the one in the post right below this one. then tell me if it's the same person or not. and then tell me if hell has frozen over or not.

i didn't think the mere absence of facial fuzz and presence of dark facial window panes (a la diya mirza here) would make such a life-altering change. more the fool, me. oh, and then the unmissable, but not undetestable, touch of tucking in one half of a jacket (a la the half-tucked-in/out shirt of this uufo). armageddon must not be far off.

sight for sore eyes

ornithographer: "i'm pretty sure that's the red-tailed, open-chested, scrabby jackie bird."

dabbawala on the 11:40 local to lokhandwala: "ae bhidu. kya boltai re tu. yeh to jaggu dada bolne ko mangta hai, kya. yeh kheench ke doonga na."

ornitho: "no, no. i never make a mistake. notice the scragginess around the lower jaw. and those bloodshot eyes are a sure sign, because no other bird has eyes that match its tail."

dabbawala: "ae yeda hai kya? yeh apun ka jaggu bhai hai. devdas mein itna peeliyela ki abhi tak utra nahi, kya. apun jaanta hai."

verdict: whatever / whoever it is, this is a sight for sore eyes. to make your eyes sore, that is.

uufo: greasy days are here again

i don't know who the stud-wannabe-in-the-leather-jacket-with-three-pockets-on-one-side is. i'm happy that he's at least not holding his cellphone in his hand, with so many pockets to put them in. what i'm more interested in is this: does this uufo know the difference between grease paint and make-up? and that one's for reel life and the other for real life? and that posing for a photograph does not constitute reel life?

Coolie No. 1 or Hero No. 1?

Coolie No. 1: The shirt is mine.

Hero No. 1: The chappals are mine.

Coolie No. 1: The ganda hair is mine.

Hero No. 1: The slim-fit pants are mine.

Coolie No. 1: The 56-inch waist is certainly not mine.

Hero No. 1: (Sigh!) You win.

The verdict: David Dhawan was his own inspiration for Coolie No. 1.
It's a good thing he's behind the camera and not in front of it. Don't you think?

curtains for rajeshwari

yes, i know this dress is from the curtains from the spare bedroom in captain von trapp's house that maria overlooked. i mean, it's not my fault that she was traipsing around the countryside singing about the shepherd and the sound of music and all that. if she overlooked those curtains, it's her loss. finders keepers, i say. i mean, times are hard these days and i don't know how else to be fashionable and still be able to afford it. you understand, dahlings?

hugs and kisses,

rajeshwari

picturesque speechless

what's better than bappida and his dangling, clanging pounds of flesh and gold?

bappida and his dangling, clanging pounds of flesh and gold, in shiny black vinyl . that's what.
do click to see the bigger picture and enjoy.

obelix's worse half

dear amrita:

yes. even obelix the gaul can tell you that stripes are slimming. but you didn't have to go out and steal his clothes to try and steal a march over your always-classy sister. there is, after all, a difference between looking chic-ly gaulish and cheaply ghoulish.

what exactly, if i may ask, were you thinking? next thing you know, we're going to hear obelix tapping his head and saying "these indians are crazy."

sincerely,

concerned citizens for keeping gaulish clothes on gaulish bodies

kangana, caught unawares, runout by amrita arora

kangana, kangana. you're sassy, you have rare talent. you can make your eyes and your acting speak so artfully. but must you let your clothes say you're looking to amrita arora for fashion inspiration? you know, all you had to was to discard the tie and jacket and you would look so sweet and svelte in the classic white shirt-blue jeans combo. because what you remind me right now is of a bangladeshi waiter in an indian restaurant run by pakistanis in paris. after work.
i will give it to you though that none of them would look as good as you if they discarded the tie and jacket.

a sleeping giant awakens

alright, a giant this blog might not be, but there is no disputing that it has been slumbering for a little over six months now. no matter, i am here now. ready to scatter forty score and more fashion faux pas (what is the plural for "faux pas" anyway?) like so much chaff. and so, my loyal two and a quarter readers, you will have some thing to look forward to while away a few minutes of your time everyday from now on. once more. like the days of old.