Loki who?

As a wandering shopaholic, I sometimes see more than I wish to. Instead of browsing the wares in places like Debenhams at Orion Mall in peace, taking my time searching for hidden ambrosia, I will usually be pounced on by strangers asking me if they can help. Help what? Regain my lost peace of mind or my trampled-upon soul? No? Then walk away, people! This time, however, I was accosted by a man who was rather easy on the eyes so I walked into the new L'Occitane (fragrance and skincare from Provence) space. Gorge, the kind of products that come weighted with history, research and, for all us beauty-is-as-beauty-sees types, wonderful packaging. It's worth its weight in gold outside India and will, I prophesy, make no dent at all inside India, much like the staggeringly empty but equally popular-abroad Kiehl's next door, simply because it is way too expensive and not household names like Armani or Dior. Pity, because it's good stuff - and it helps that it's not just the products that are pleasing to the beholder.

Blay.....

Whoever took this got it 100% right - except for the black leather jacket.

For BDB fans' eyes only

Never, ever, wait for something so much that you think about it every day, gasping as you mark off your calendar and sighing with happiness-in-anticipation. The thing is, you will be disappointed, as sure as the sun will rise, with or without you on the planet. JR Ward's fans have been wanting the story of Blay & Qhuinn since she first started her BDB series, and while Lover At Last has a great deal of what makes Ward the best in her genre, the suckfest arrives from the very beginning. Priatkus obviously has no editors. There are mistakes and missteps. The first is painfully obvious, but the second, well that's the difference between the good and the great, and if you aren't producing great books, you may as well be the kind of 'writer' who endorses marriage websites on TV as a day job. I'll tell you the worst misstep: there's not enough tenderness, not enough of the great dialogue that Ward usually gives her lovers, and that's what we were all waiting for. Add to that the multiple story lines, some so dull they barely lifted off the page, (yes, Trez, that means you), and I failed to go to bed clutching the book to my chest in full foetus position as is my wont when reading Ward. But you know, enough whining, there is still so much to make me thrilled to have read the book. When there is the requisite obsessive love that we can feel and listen to, B&Q are lovely. I especially liked Saxton getting his when Qhuinn thinks he's a love rat, or B&Q at the gym and the club. They take too long to reach an understanding which was frustrating but Ward gives us two new, marvellous couples to keep the juices flowing: Assail (anyone who loved Rehvenge will know what I mean) and Sola, and Xcor and Layla. Alpha males, strong females, great chemistry and interaction; no one can beat Ward when she's very, very good.

Celebs gone bad

*Amanda Bynes is simply doing what all actors who have slipped off Fame's slippery slope do: get any publicity they can. She's smart, though. She picks on major stars, like Rihanna, to 'insult', so she can get the widest media coverage possible while she talks plastic surgery, police molestation, etc etc. The only thing is, Bynes is not Britney. They both have very little talent but at least Spears has some charisma even when shaving her head.

*Michael Douglas saying going down on women is what gave him oral cancer is about as low as you can go. Does he have no concept about how people will now think of Catherine Zeta-Jones? The first wife has already leapt out of the woodwork claiming to be 100% disease-free (gag), all of which only makes me think everyone needs to be on medication. No surprise at all that now Douglas is saying that wasn't what he meant. Perhaps English isn't his first language; sensitivity certainly is not.

*It's the worst thing that can happen to you, yet Angelina Jolie manages to make a PR exercise out of her preventive surgery. Although it has to be said that being open about her health can only be positive for other women who will follow her example and hopefully live longer, there is something about this woman that is utterly untrustworthy. It's as though she thought to herself, 'This is happening, how do I spin it?' Your breasts don't define you? Really? Sounds great, very PC, but the truth would have sounded better.

We just don't believe Jolie's public presentation of Self. Why is that? Her doublespeak on adultery? The fact that she has no friends? Her one-role-fits-all acting chops? Her expression when out and about? Who knows.

And yet. This is the kind of thing where you feel nothing, in the end, but sisterhood and sympathy. 

If I had one wish it would be to allow all of us to go gently into that good night.

Reality Bites

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2013/04/25/why-is-it-so-hard-to-be-a-reality-tv-host.html

Apropos the above.

The Kardashians are possibly the signal on the hill that there are no more hills to climb and we are, in fact, in the last trough of civilisation. It's all downhill from here on in. Good-looking broads with a fabulous fashion sense, I'll give them that, but are they going to rock my world on this alone? I think not. I'll leave that to Jo Nesbo, thank you very much.

So really, Khloe had to go. (How I wish the rest of the family would follow, but one out of dozens ain't....yeah, it is.)

But talking of TV hosts. I've said it before and I'll say it again, no one does it like Seacrest. He's funny, empathetic, cute and APPEARS to not take himself too seriously (although I think he takes his hair more seriously than I do mine, to begin with). He makes it all look effortless and that's the X Factor which puts him on top of the heap. When we're watching a reality show, we want to be relaxed; we want to have as much fun as the host should be having.

But I have to say, although I like Cat Deeley, I liked Steve Jones, too. He's not the Ice Queen aka Padma Lakshmi, or the too-earnest Davina McCall, or Carson Daly who has everyone watching his mouth and not the words coming out of it. Why they got rid of Steve who is also extremely easy on the eye is beyond me.

Other toppers, strangely all in the realm of food:

*Man v Food host Adam Richman, for his mot justes and love of the bite

*Anthony Bourdain for his cynicism and brave foray into culinary unknowns

*Nigella Lawson for her deliberate play on the sensual aspects of cuisine

*Masterchef dudes in Australia and US for their sense of theatre and straightforward passion for the subject.

Of course, in India meanwhile, we have Twist of Taste with Vineet Bhatia.

I like it Chubby, this once

There was something comforting about it as I passed by; like a fragrant cherry pie cooling on a windowsill. The colours came close, too, watermelon, raspberry, orange sherbet. So I gave in to my need for a metaphorical pat on the head and bought the Broadest Berry lip balm from Clinique - which is rapidly becoming one of my favourite beauty companies. Their Happy fragrance is like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart and their concealers and foundations seem to have a close resemblance to one's actual skin tone, but it's the Chubby Stick that drew my eye. It's moist and dewy, has no distracting fragrance and has an amazing built-in sharpener so no worrying about searching for one that fits the unusual contours of the product. How clever is that. What's not so clever is Clinique's unfortunate packaging. Blah. And their technicians in lab coats that sit at the stores. If I wanted to be wheeled away in a straitjacket I'd come here but not when I'm thinking in terms of Beauty. How many millions in ad money went down the tubes paying the marketing non-geniuses who came up with THAT strategy? Well, never let it be said that I don't have an open mind. Which is why I'm thinking of snaffling the Watermelon next.

Boston and after

How simple the world once was. We could say America was the perfect place to live in, that Indians understood empathy best, that money was the root of all evil and, alas, that Gerard Butler was a gentleman. Don't get me started on that last one. But after Boston and the Delhi rape of a 5-yr-old, all bets on black-and-white generalizations are off.

I'm sorry to say that my first reaction to Boston was complete and utter admiration on the lines of 'Man, these yankees are kick-ass mofos'. Do Americans know what it's like to live in a country where the police, by and large, actually protect you? I'm sure they take it as much for granted as having electricity and water without interruption. The US authorities shut down a city, used thermal imaging, literally laid down their lives, to deal with terror on their soil. These are the type of guys you want on your side; they understand the need for swift justice, and still talk of Miranda rights. In the American's hour of darkness, there is a still a light that shines on them. In India, the police will shine their fists on you if you are a teenage girl protesting the rape and brutalisation of a minor. Sunil Khilnani and I knew many moons ago that this a country where you are on your own in times of trouble. The only number you dial when you need help is God's. Just ask the 5-yr-old if he's listening.

But what has happened to India that we are now not only Third World in terms of lifestyle but also mindstyle? Once, when we lay bleeding in the street we knew someone would help us to a hospital; if a man looked at a woman sideways she could make such a ruckus he would never dare do it to anyone ever again. Today, people watch, perhaps upload a YouTube video. Indifference lives side-by-side with a MeMeMe blinkered vision.

Not that America is the promised land, it was never that. It was once the better of very few options but if you're not white, this would not be a preferred destination. I can just imagine, as we speak, people doing a doubletake at anyone who looks Chechen/Czechoslovakian/Indian/MiddleEastern and is walking down the streets of Boston. Ignorance should not be a preferred destination. But I wouldn't mind John McClane living in my neighbourhood.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, money is not the root of all evil (unless you're Paris Hilton and don't know what to do with it). Money is Power.

Laugh for the day

Maggie Smith bemoaning a trip to India in Best Exotic Marigold Hotel - "You know who'll be there, don't you? Indians. Brown of face, black of heart and reeking of curry." 

In a galaxy far, far away...

Hong Kong blew my mind. Just returned after 9 glorious days during which I visited my old school and enjoyed the fundamental rights to ordinary life like paved roads, public transport and HBO movies with no ads. HBO movies with no ads? What are you saying? What are these words coming out of your mouth? In India, we can make dinner during commercial breaks.
Saw American Idol which I can't this side of the civilizational divide because it's on CBS Love, a channel Tata Sky will not deign to include in its packages. And I have to say, Nicki Minaj's nasal voice and diva performances on the judge's chair may just put the final nail in AI's coffin. The likely winner is Cree (and Keith Urban who's beyond cute in looks and persona) but I don't know that anyone cares.
Life, as everyone experiences first-hand, is not fair. While Bangalore is grappling with power cuts in literally breathtaking heat, in HK just taking a bus is an exercise in luxury travel. Yes, it's air-conditioned, too. If you're not in the mood to wait for the four minutes in between buses, take the metro why don't you, where they wisely have partitions in between the train and you. You can kill yourself in the subway in New York and London but the Chinese frown on such shenanigans.
The city is a dreamscape of towering buildings and the most serene neighbourhoods, or both at the same time; you'll find a Central Park lookalike where a turtle will bask on a rock in a pond overseen by the Koala buildings (an Aussie architect designed a complex to look like the bear is hugging the building, say no more).
Both a Faberge and Warhol exhibition are on as we speak, (there are locals there, not just tourists!), food is sublime and fashion as easy as grabbing a striped tunic off a street stall.
Right now, I'm checking Cathay Pacific schedules again like a secret addiction.

Olympus Has Fallen

I'm really not much of a people person. I have very few heroes. Most of whom I don't know but whose work/personas I admire. This week, two of them bit the dust and what can I say, celebrities need to give up on the idea of interviews forevermore.
First of all, we don't want to know you, bro. We want to believe in unicorns and fairy dust and Santa Claus and noble world leaders etc etc. Take Mr Tarantino as my first case in point. He was caught on tape with a British-Indian (maybe that was it) interviewer on the BBC where, when he got tired of being questioned he started ranting and saying things like "I'm not your slave, I'm not your monkey, I'm shutting your butt down." Say what? We know why you are there, as a "commercial for my movie" as Mr T himself said, so maybe you could pay the piper? A truth not universally acknowledged, by the way, is that journalists are bored off their butts doing interviews, too. But they have better manners, and are professional enough to continue doing their jobs.
The second dagger through the heart came from the hands of Gerard Butler. Now to understand the extent of my thralldom to this man, you need to know that my laptop wallpaper is his magnificent Manhattan loft foyer. Yes, some serious stalker shit so you will also be pleased to know that I've come to my senses and replaced it with a Live aquarium. Anyway, Gerry's fall from grace is after his appalling interview with Howard Stern yesterday - which itself was a dead giveaway, of course. Where he said he slept with pseudo-celeb Brandi Glanville and explained why he replied with the immortal line: "Who's Brandi Glanville?" when the paps asked if had done the deed with the lady. You see, he simply didn't know her last name. It was just, and I quote, a bit of afternoon fun.
Sweet Mother Mary.
That is not the worst of it. On his new FB page, an ardent female admirer has posted: Your last interview with Howard Stern - well done, had a good laugh.
Am I living in a parallel universe?

Hmmmm

At a divorce court in an Indian city, they had these two quotes up in the waiting room, staring down at the hapless, not to say captive, audience:

"Divorce is like amputation. You survive but there is less of you." - Margaret Atwood.

"When embarking on a journey of revenge first dig two graves." - Confucius.

Bookshop display in Cal....too much!