I could trade in my Moleskins for these with their hologram-style covers. Could you?
Davide Luciano and Claudia Ficca’s series on Meals Interrupted. A way to look at food, when a meal’s been unexpectedly cut-off in the middle. Every photo somehow makes you think of what the diners did or did not before and after their meal was interrupted. Were they enjoying it? Were they enjoying each other’s companies? Did they make plans to meet up again? Did they see it coming?
And y’all! Look at what I have in the freezer. Over ripe bananas can only mean one thing.
I’m sitting on the futon in my persian print socks sipping on a cup of cocoa mocha, still lazed out by a full on English breakfast. Winter’s finally in Calcutta. Have I mentioned that I’ve been in India for the last month…only part of my Christmas break.
But Christmas, although celebrated with a roast chicken, plum cake and plenty of wine here in India….which is invariably followed by a workout at some discotheque with friends on the Eve…..it still does not have a festive quietness to it, that a London-ish Christmas might. The air doesn’t have a chilly bite. The shops are lightly dressed instead of heaving under tinsel. No shiny Xmas trees around…and most importantly, no hot chocolate.
Of course, that does not mean that Indians don’t enjoy hot chocolate…we just prefer nursing a cup of steaming Darjeeling tea or some very milky coffee. But here goes. I like my hot chocolate, dark, luscious and sprinkled with chilly powder.
Truffled Hot Chocolate
1/2 cup dark chocolate, chopped or dark chocolate chips
1 cup whole milk
1/4 cup sour cream
1tbsp of sugar
Pinch of cayenne pepper or dried red chili powder
Heat the milk and sour cream and sugar together till its starts to bubble up, but take care that the mixture doesn’t boil over. Pour the hot mixture into the serving mug and add the chocolate chips. Stand the mixture for a minute and then stir to combine well. Sprinkle the top with the pepper/chili powder and serve.
Yes, it was my birthday on the 6th, Tuesday. And like last year, it was a quiet one.
Now, in my circle, birthdays usually come with a butter-loaded cake, waves of tequila and lots of arse-to-arse dancing. But after my quarter-life crisis drama a couple of years back, I’ve tuned it down, choosing to hang out with my family for the whole day (much preferable, I might add). The craziness is reserved for the next day, when my friends take me out.
Note: the quarter-life crisis drama included freaking out on meeting this 22-yr old co-ed dating a 29-yr old doctor for whom I had the proverbial “hots”.
Yesterday started off with a breakfast-almost-brunch with family and family friends, at Flury’s — an eternal favourite and a classic symbol for Calcutta. A must-visit for anybody who steps foot in the city.
That led to a shopping spree with my folks. Now has always the perfect time to glam up for Christmas.
And against my better judgement, I went for flat shoes. Flat, sequined, ankle tie-backs from Metro. And that was a shocker for my mother, considering the fact that she has never seen me without high heeled shoes in the last 4-5 years. I may not wear the shortest skirts, my face may not be made up 24/7, I may not have the shoulders to carry off a sleek halter-neck, but I would literally sleep & run for errands, in my heels. And I have.
But, I saw these flats on the window and fell in love…more so with the half-suede half-satin ribbon ties than the sequined panels. I guess, I’m going to consider this as my ‘something different’ for this year. The other ‘something different’ would be my departure from red and wine coloured nail varnishes, that I have been faithful to all these years. I got myself some gold luxe.
This is suddenly starting to seem like the more older I grow, the more bling-iness I crave. Yeow.
Anyways, I think I can work these two as my Christmas pieces. For now, just have some sinfully dark brownies I made to start the day.
Under normal circumstances I would go for a rich Fondant Au Chocolat…but these brownies have been a keeper ever since the first gorgeous batch I made during a Slovenia vs England FIFA match last year. Their dense, overpowered with cocoa, with a shot of coffee, addictive and almost a comfort to an ageing 27-yr old.
Sinful Chocolate Brownies
160gm 70% cocoa powder
120gm all-purpose flour
240gm caster sugar
120gm unsalted butter, softened
2 tsp instant coffee powder
A big fat pinch of salt
Pre-heat the oven to 180 deg C. Prepare a 9″ x 9″ tin by greasing the bottom and sides with some butter. Sift the dry ingredients in a bowl. Beat in the butter and eggs, till the lumps disappear and the mixture is thick and spreadable. Pour batter in the prepared tin and level the surface. Bake for 18-20 minutes or till the center is slightly greasy. Cool and cut into pieces.
“Yes!” I replied, while a total stranger, an Indian girl of about 20-21 years, poked at one of my curls with a finger. Her friend kept staring at my hair with wide eyes.
This is not the first time people have felt the need to tug or fluff my curls for no apparent reason. But this was the first time a stranger had done it. My mother & I were window-shopping in Westfield when I noticed them staring at me from a distance whispering urgently at each other, before they cautiously stepped in front of me and offered nervous smiles. And after paying a complement they somehow felt that it was perfectly appropriate to poke through my hair. It wasn’t that surprising considering how most of my friends had gotten their hair straightened right out of college, and had wasted no time in telling me how it was the best thing they had ever done to their hair.
“What do you use? Any special shampoo or…?”
“Oh no…just stuff from L’Oreal,” I replied. They looked at me with complete disbelief — obviously not believing a word and were pretty sure I was hiding my top-secret hair-care regime.
At their reaction, my mother smirked in amusement. And I knew why.
One constant source of despair during my otherwise highly content childhood, was my hair. I wasn’t allowed to keep long hair, since it required maintenance and serious looking-after. And my mother was absolutely sure I would not be able to commit, in spite of all my promises that I would do everything necessary to keep my hair looking beautiful.
“When you’re in college you can do whatever you want with your hair…colour it blue if you like, I don’t care…but as long as you’re in my house, you’ll keep it the way I want.” And that was her standard line for everything I objected to.
Every couple of months or so, she would literally drag me to the salon and hover over the hairdresser as she/he lopped off whatever little hair that had grown beyond the approved length. All I did, was sit and cry my eyes out. And this continued till I was 17.
When I was leaving for college, her ‘standard line’ seemed like the sweetest advice she’d ever given me. And I took it to heart. Five months into architecture school, I came home for autumn break, fitted with a pair of oversized jodhpuri pants, a T-shirt cut into half horizontally, eyes pasted over with dark make-up and a purple crop of overgrown hair.
It took my mom a whole day to get over everything, especially the fact that her well-dressed little girl had gone all sorts of crazy. It took her even more time to digest how I had cut all my silk shirts (that she had picked out for me lovingly) in half as well.
At the time, going through vodka, college seniors, drawings, building models and fried chicken seemed like the most important things in the world. And maintaining coloured hair seemed like a stupid thing to do. And anyway, I had absolutely no idea how to take care of long hair. For years all I had done was slap on coconut oil, wash it off with shampoo and run a comb through my boy-crop. And suddenly I had long locks which required my attention for more than two minutes. Who had that kind of time?
30 days of vacation, endless lectures from Mom, a high-protein diet, bottles after bottles of mayonnaise and ice-sold water worked their miracles. And I’ve stuck with all that since. Which is probably what I should have told them.
No no no. I haven’t abandoned you. I’m just too lazy to get off my arse and log on to my computer.
I have been trapped in a mayhem of movie reruns, Chinese food and girl-time, and haven’t had time or inspiration to actually write anything.
In all honesty, I did try writing about Cosmopolitan India’s October 2011 cover featuring actor Kareena Kapoor. It landed on my lap as I watching an episode of Modern Family. I did log on to WordPress and click on ‘New Post’. But the next five minutes were spent with my fingers resting on the keyboard as I realized that I just couldn’t come up with anything.
Two days later, out of sheer rebellion against my everyday salmon and spinach lunch, I cooked up a pot of impromptu chicken biryani and even before I could dig into a plateful of it, I took photographs, religiously…even as drool stated to trickle down my chin. And yet I just didn’t feel like writing it up. I call this laziness, like I mentioned before….but let’s go with ‘writers’ block’ (it just sounds fancy).
Anyway. Let’s move on to the movies I’ve been feasting my eyes on. And since I’m good with lists, here goes:
5 Movies You Should Try Watching This Coming Weekend (if you haven’t already):
1) The September Issue, 2009
Yes yes, some you you fashioncrazydoos have already seen it. But see it again. Watch how Anna Wintour’s chilly yet somehow enthusiastic feedback on styled spreads make her seem intimidating. The keyword here is “seem”, because if you’re from the world of architecture, you’ll agree that she is anything but intimidating….she’s a darling compared to the Professors, supervisors and bosses we’ve had over the years. At least she doesn’t tear the spreads into pieces with her nails.
Also watch it for how two totally different people work together for more than two decades with nothing but mutual respect for each other’s talent.The movie is always a good watch, especially if you’re looking for inspiration.
2) Luck by Chance, 2009
Yes OK, it’s a product of Bollywood. And you would actually need to look a little harder to find a copy with English sub-titles. However, the movie is definitely worth a watch. It follows an ordinary Mumbai-based boy from a middle-class family trying his luck at the doorstep of the multi-crore Hindi cinema industry. He is just one tiny entity out of the thousands of youngsters that travel to Mumbai every day in hopes of making it in Bollywood. The direction is critically acclaimed, the acting is lack-lustre throughout the movie which is honestly, quite a let down. But the storyline and cinematography does make up for it.
More than anything, watch the movie for its one song Baawre Baawre. The song pictography and choreography make it a visual delight. It takes Indian folk and carnival performers, what they look like, what they wear, what they carry and takes it to a pronounced avant-garde. Right from a very Willy Wonka-ishHrithik Roshan who is sharply dressed as a ringmaster in a suit more suited for Dr. Facilier to a very awkwardly pretty Isha Sharvani in a skin-tight sequined bodysuit.
3) The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of The Unicorn, 2011
Right. Before you smirk or guffaw at that, just stop. I know how most of you remember poring over Remi’s masterpiece as kids, and to be honest, the movie did keep me entertained through all the 109 minutes of it. Try watching the chase sequence through Bagghar without a grin on your face. I sat in the theatre and pointed out every similarity between the comic book and the scenes, much to the irritation of my fellow movie-goers. And that continued till the time the man sitting right in front of me turned around and said, “We know!” in the most exasperated way.
4) Rockstar, 2011
Another one fresh off Bollywood’s press. Director Imtiaz Ali has worked harder than ever over this one and you can tell from the way he tries to handle the film, but the story is mediocre at its best, and the acting is sadly, lack-lustre. But watch it for A. R. Rehman’s infallible compositions, inspiring and soulful. And the best reason would be to watch it for how designer Aki Narula dressed Ranbir Kapoor in an array of military-inspired jackets and harems bordering on patialas.
5) Tower Heist, 2011
I haven’t seen it yet. And Eddie Murphy’s back. Hence: its on my list for the weekend.
I’ve been adding to my list of talented fashion illustrtators for quite sometime now, and here are my top 10 personal favorites.
OK, well. Top 10 is a small list, admittedly. With so much talent and inspiration out there, it is impossible to cram in all the illustrators I admire, on one list. This list is a LOT shorter than the original one. The original one had 41 illustrators on it! And I’ve spent the last two days poring over each one of their works and carefully editing the list. It would be impossible for me to strike out any more names! I’m in love with them all!
Who’s your favorite? Any upcoming illustrator whose work you like?
Just when you think things cannot get any worse around here, they do.
Exhibit A: just as I thought how last week’s interview was a breeze and how the interviewers seemed duly impressed, they call this week and say ‘the position has been filled by someone more suited to it’, followed by ‘could they wish me good luck for my future?’.
Bitch. I am not amused.
Meanwhile, to rub salt over the wound, summer’s gone and fall hasn’t even arrived yet. Its just drafty, cloudy and wet all around with sudden bursts of indecisive sunshine. I suspect the sun is not amused either.
My habit of stalking people over the internet is at its strongest when I’m depressed. And yesterday as I furiously went through blog after blog, I came across Athena Plichta’s work. And man, that girl can cook. Stunning, is all I have to say.
Exhibit B: aka, How the Universe Conspires Against You When You’re Broke.
Right at this moment, when I’m surviving on leftovers, wrenching myself away from Miu Miu’s mouth-watering store display, Garance Doré, the beloved trendsetter, has let Elle & the Coveteur photograph her stuff.
And she’s got stuff I could mindlessly kill for.
Take a look at those red Lanvin shoes. The brazennes of the colour apart, just the curve of that heel is enough to suggest the certainty of a great fuck.