My song du jour

I don't know if it's the singer or the song, but this is a bit of alright. Comments are hilarious.

Me and Mini-Me

Indian wedding art

Marigolds twined around a tree as part of the decor at a wedding dinner in Madras.

The nominees were Dross and Gold

That's what it all came down to at Oscars 2012. On one hand, you had Angelina Jolie vamping it up to the entirely wrong crowd, on the other you had Meryl Streep with her bottomless talent accepting an Oscar and saying what mattered was looking out at the audience and seeing all the friendships that had accrued over the years. It was like a farewell speech, and perhaps it was because mortality is always around the corner and she's been on that stage so many times, the odds, as she herself said, are against her. But what a woman. Where La Jolie is a bottomless pit of hype, here is someone with the kind of class you have to be born with, not the kind of flaking-off vanity that you need to escape from under. Streep is a good egg, and she has the respect of every single person who crosses her path. She doesn't need to be Jessica Rabbit to validate her existence, she just goes about her remarkable business.

Oscars 2012 was also Billy Crystal bringing a level of comfort and hilarity to hosting that is exactly what Jay Leno brings to the table. Critics panned Crystal and Leno has many haters, but as a viewer you know why you enjoy, say, Leno while Letterman is nothing but a conundrum. It's entertainment, not existentialism that you need at the end of the day with your feet up, drinking green tea. The latter you're faced with the minute you open your eyes to another over-bright morning anyway, and how many mornings are those. Crystal was impeccable, with the kind of inputs (Clooney and Justin Bieber) that had you laughing long into the night.

Loved Gwyneth Paltrow's flowing-like-molasses white gown and matching cape from my hero Tom Ford, and Rooney Mara's fragile beauty in another delicate, virginal creation whose designer I don't recall because Rooney's fantastic face overwhelmed everything else.

Blew kisses at the screen every time Scorsese's face was shown and wiped away the tears as Christopher Plummer spoke but that was only to be expected.

It was the best Oscars in years, with new inputs like actors talking about their profession and only a few people going over the time limit with their acceptance speeches. Of course, the media has said it was the worst but what do they know. They're the same ones who think La Jolie is a great actress.

Big, bad manners

People simply don't know how to behave in public. This coming from someone who screeched 'Asshole!' and flipped the bird at an auto-driver yesterday may seem a bit much, but still....I would never do what this woman did at Barista. First of all, she was getting the evil eye from other customers because she was a big woman, and tucking into a cheese croissant and cold coffee with nary a care in the world. Yes, people are like that. 'Honey, really?' were the thought bubbles appearing above several turned heads but I digress. As I tried in vain to catch the server's eye, she had no such compunction. 'Tissues!' she bellowed. Then she stabbed the croissant with a forefinger you couldn't ignore and said, 'Bring butter.' When she next bellowed for the bill, we were better prepared but honestly, what ever happened to using some good, old-fashioned articles prefaced with a 'May I' or some such thing. So okay, I was still struggling with a delicately upraised hand while she had already paid and walked into the sunset to rue someone else's day but I dunno, I don't mind waiting a bit rather than opening my mouth and removing all doubt about my antecedents.

Sunny days

This is one of the very few reasons to like Bangalore, south India. It makes up for having to go home at 11.30pm, dealing with autodrivers who remind you of Sicily in the old days, and drooling over Net-a-Porter because there are two boutiques here where you may find fashionista wear – makes up for it for about 3 minutes, that is.

Walk this way

Catwalk shoes, a sorta modernised Great Gatsby look. Nothing quite like earth tones, no?

Not very tasty

So the Comedy Central channel shows the classic 'Goodness Gracious Me' and 'SNL' and even the cute 'My Boys' but do they all have to remind you of Queen and INXS? The shows are as old as dinosaurs. But where I have to draw the line is at the Quickies clip, where a zipper pulls down and the CC logo pushes up hard and fast against each other. Dear me. Something tells me no Indian censor has quite realised what's going on. Maybe they think Quickies refers to an iced latte or chocolate - both of which would take much longer if used in the bedroom, in any case.

Oh, no, Miuccia

I know the brand name is synonymous with high fashion, but this is the reason why I am amazed at Prada's popularity. If you see a woman dressed as an Italian housewife (no, not of the Sophia Loren variety) or wearing something particularly unflattering on her feet, you know where she got it from. I mean, look at the picture. Need I say more.

Fame: a P&L

Fame: a P&L

At Home with Jorge Elias in São Paulo Homes: architecturaldigest.com

At Home with Jorge Elias in São Paulo Homes: architecturaldigest.com

J'adore. Anything that combines animal and floral prints instantly gets my vote, of course, but it's the overall feel of this room, and much of the house, that is so warming. I love the crowded, homely feel, the thought that went into the personalised choice of artwork, the comfort of the sofas. One can imagine long winter afternoons, and sunny spring days spent in this room as the staff brings in petit fours and tea.

That's what a home essentially is, isn't it: A setting for who you believe you are.

A propos Jaipur and Salman Rushdie

Wow, what a nasty couple of days for civil liberties in India and the rights of writers to, you know, bloody well write. When people talk about religious sentiments being hurt over what someone said in print, surely the only logical question to ask is: So why read it? Please carry on, with our blessings, to Church, the mosque, the temple, the totem pole for all the rest of us care.

If publishers only handled books that did not offend, the only paper we would be handling would be the toilet roll as we mused in the loo. And considering the Jaipur Literary Farce, it would have to be on the story of Pontius Pilate calling for a bowl of water so that he would have no responsibility for crucifying people.....no doubt read out to us at some underground meeting by rebels because, of course, the Bible would have been banned.

Oh dear. Now let me get back to reading Lady Chatterley's Lover.