Rampage from the ramp
There are times, especially after any razzmatazz like a fashion week ‘in Bratland’ that sobriety is seriously compromised. With an ‘important’ fashion designer setting the tone of the abs of his (non-role) models of the season, chances are hell will be raised in the name of style.
Think of cutting-edge fashion, and we normally think of its subliminal relation to violence — with its subliminal relation to the erotic. After all, trench coats and jumpers might be mistaken for adrenaline-charged gangstas, and never mind what one can do with one stiletto. But the subliminal bit went out of the window on Saturday night when the Delhi Fashion Week after-show party went out of control and sent one of our photographers to the stitching table. Nothing fashionably outré at all about that.
There are times, especially after any razzmatazz like a fashion week ‘in Bratland’ that sobriety is seriously compromised. With an ‘important’ fashion designer setting the tone of the abs of his (non-role) models of the season, chances are hell will be raised in the name of style.
But when does one cross the line? Nope, not when a few pretty boys take off their shirts and start to shake their legs. If far prettier and feistier folks can do it, why not them? The problem is when the cufflinks are thrown to the wind and the fisticuffs start. Fashionistas may rule the ramp. But rampage can’t be part of the couture.
