Fashion’s first imperative: do the clothes work, got yes as an immediate answer as finely finished handcrafted garments in a variety of silhouettes (I spotted only one distinctly draped sari) walked dreamily up and down the ramp. The ruling colour was white: the footnotes were in black. In between were floral and chequered mixes, subtle red details, red-pink hearts and black, pink and red polka dots. Asymmetrical jackets in Chanderi, lace dresses with beaded collars and pocket details, lace panelled tops and dresses, checkered and floral printed shorts, broad legged bottoms, Ikat jumpsuits, appliqued shirts with beaded collars, khadi block printed jackets summed up the fare. For the rapidly growing lobby of those who could eventually contribute to making the European Union’s assertion “The future is handmade” come true, this was good stuff. Arora’s clothes had form, finish and finesse.
Photo courtesy: Aneeth Arora
The second question: did the collection have worthy content? This too got a yes because Arora introduced a new line called Labour of Love which will become a small but classic range in all her future collections. Labour of Love is completely handstitched with no machine intervention at all (see image) and will be recognizable by a tiny red, heart embroidered at the back of the garment. Many pieces had intricately embroidered collars in delicate bead work—reminding us of the understated luxuries that rich and royal women nurtured in the past—an embroidered handkerchief, a hand worked petticoat frill, a beaded tote or clutch…(Arora showed beaded purses too).
On the other hand, the designer had explored the “polka dot” techniques in different crafts traditions of India—from Ikat of Andhra Pradesh to Jamdani of West Bengal, also the polka dot’s interpretation in Gujarat, Uttar Pradesh and Rajasthan. So if you are looking for a story that has commitment to craft and craftspeople to substantiate your engagement and expenditure on fashion—here it was.
The third question: did the show live up to the expectations? This is a trap—which now colours the way we look at certain designers with immense promise. The famous Sabyasachi is the biggest example of this prism-trap that some fashion reviewers (oh yes, count me in) try to fit fashion in. By that measure, Arora’s show did not live up to the expectations she has already raised. She is not only one of our most commercially successful young designers but has also won critical acclaim for a unique aesthetic mixing purist handlooms, the Indian ethnic male wardrobes reimagined with fabrics and styles to offer fashion for women and layering as a way to explore style, nuance, even body image issues. Fair or unfair, we expect more from a designer like that.
Photo courtesy: Aneeth Arora
What’s this more? Arora’s inventive concept of Indian polka dots found a mismatch in her spectacle of sweet pink romanticism located somewhere in the early 20th Century (music from that era, glitter lace shoes in candy pink, white and silver, straw hats trimmed with pretty danglers), with strong flashes of European indulgence. It was “too French Riveira” for some; it was “Mary Poppins” to a young fashion journalist. As an Indian fashion professor from Chicago said, “I love Arora’s work without bias but came expecting something else.”
I expected a visible twist of androgyny into the mix of clothes and presentation, some sliver of Indian imagination added to the context of polka dots and a fierceness of style. Cupcakes and candy-coloured shoes aren’t the Péro we know so far. Most importantly, the collection could have done with some good editing.
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