Says Sharmi

Teresa Laisom is listening to a hazily romantic song of Brooklyn pop band Cigarettes After Sex . Utsav Pradhan is poring over his laptop, checking out the latest issue of i-D, a British magazine that marries fashion and music. We are inside a 3,000sq feet studio on a Noida street that appears dusty and nondescript till you notice the workshops of some fresh names who have been creating a stir in the fashion industry. Like Ujjwal Dubey’s Antar Agni and Munkee See Munkee Doo, whose owners we have a rendezvous with. “Oh, he’s a pal! We meet pretty often. He’s so talented,” Pradhan and Laisom, executioners of the hip label, chortle. Teresa Laisom and Utsav Pradhan of Munkee See Mumkee Doo However, they don’t meet in soirees and fashion events, but bump into one another near their workshops. “We are from small towns. Sometimes, the way things operate in Delhi can get intimidating. So, we shut ourselves off and concentrate on our job here,” says Pradhan. “Business has always c

A creation by Vidhi Singhania The other day, while sipping hot mocha, I engaged in an interesting conversation with a young enterprising fashion entrepreneur. We deliberated on whether sales actually do happen at fashion exhibitions. Going by the frequency of all the expositions popping up every fortnightly, there must be some trick to make them become a treat. My friend though appeared circumspect. She said that the expositions are facing rough weather. Sales do not happen at all. Unless of course the ware at the show is fabulous. And she complained that in the last few fashion and lifestyle exhibitions that she’d been to, she came back dissatisfied. So, I suggested she come with me to Dandelion, a lifestyle exhibition helmed by Mukta Nandini Jain. We went for it last season and were impressed. So much so, that we can hardly wait for the its luxury edition to roll on the floor at Taj Vivanta Ambassador on the 24 th of this month. Bags by Tissa Fontaneda Luxury, sai

Beautiful space about at the Beyond Designs studio. Pic by Atul Pratap Chauhan During my eight-year stint at Hi Blitz magazine, I always enjoyed visiting people’s homes. I’m speaking of times when ‘armchair journalism’ was yet to be and most often than not, I preferred meeting people (on whom I was writing) in their home. Unless, they preferred their workspace. While we chatted, I absorbed the surroundings. The décor, the art, the colours and the way things were laid out. I observed the owner’s interaction with his nest, which I believe becomes almost an animate object over the years. Those vignettes peppered my writing. I like it that way. Image by Atul Pratap Chauhan Nothing has changed, except that I am my own boss. The modus operandi continues to be a one-on-one interaction in homes, especially when it comes to bringing out a side of a personality that is only obvious when he is in his private space. A home, I believe, mirrors the persona of the owners in an inimitab

The Nac Sound Zemi Arya Speaker is almost like an art piece that can can move around your home, thanks to the integration by Hada and his team It’s amazing how my mind keeps flitting in and out of the scenes from Chris Columbus’s Bicentennial Man, where the beloved Robin Williams essayed the role of an endearing robot who eventually is recognised as a legitimate human being. The whole movie flaunted this futuristic world that took me pleasantly by surprise. The TV Lift mechanism by Nexus 21 is one the features that Anusha Technovision integrates in any space    Am sitting in the plush Experience Centre of Anusha Technovision. The lighting is ambient but just for a bit. The moment my eyes get adjusted to the softness, Shikha, the sales engineer, instructs them to brighten up again. And they do. Spooky but so technically advanced! There is just an I-Pad at her disposal and she just goes, ‘Do this, Do that” with a touch! The world outside at Jangpura continues to be the sam

It was pretty routine. The way we celebrated Easter in Calcutta. After the school celebrations of exchanging painted hardboiled eggs and crafting cotton wool chicks, Good Friday mornings would be about packing our bags for a road trip to some nearby tourist destination. The places would be remote but the mode of communication was always our faithful old Fiat that Dad drove with diligence. We never used the train or any other public transport. The Fiat, frail with age, would break down once in a while. But Dad was always ready with his tools and resourcefulness! We would put up at a nondescript guest house, sample the local food and after sauntering around aimlessly for two days, would drive back home on Easter Sunday. They were not fancy trips but immensely joyful ones. And innocent. We laughed, chatted and made loads of memories. Something that completes family celebrations. As Baba pushed 50, the road trips stopped. His weak heart could not take the stress of the long