A New World Of Fashion In Old Bombay
Sun Herald
Sunday July 24, 2005
India's most crowded city is enticing a new, hip breed of visitor, writes Isabel Choat.
TOURING the palaces of Rajasthan, trekking through the Himalayas, tracking tigers in Bandhavgarh National Park, shopping in Mumbai . . . Shopping? In Mumbai? Still referred to as Bombay by the locals, it is rarely more than a stopover en route to the beaches of Goa or Kerala's backwaters. Tourists tend to fly in, tick off the Gateway of India and Elephanta Island and move on the next day, relieved to leave the dirt and noise of the city's seething streets behind. Yet Mumbai deserves a little more time than that, not just because it is unlike any other city in India, but also because it also happens to be one of the hottest destinations of the moment for Europeans. There's a new breed of European-style coffee shops, stylish restaurants and cocktail bars such as Indigo, voted one of the world's top 60 restaurants by Conde Nast Traveler magazine, and Bed Lounge and Bar in the wealthy suburb of Bandra, where the city's rich set, and the odd Bollywood star, sip martinis as they recline on divans. Then there's the shopping. Mumbai has always had a reputation for textiles and handicrafts, but now it's a major centre for fashion, too. Louis Vuitton opened last autumn in the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. Teenagers, brought up on a diet of MTV and the cable channel Star Movies, shop for Tommy Hilfiger, Benetton, Lacoste and Mango clothes at the city's dozen or so malls. But far more interesting, for the visitor at least, is the rise of Indian designers. Tarun Tahiliani who has dressed Jemima Khan is the best known. Behind a heavy wooden door, discreet signage and a security guard, his shop, Ensemble, sells his own collection. Others have followed; about 15 designers are represented at The Courtyard, a new exclusive complex, and another six or so at Cue/Ogaan, near the Taj Hotel. The clothes are stunning delicate chiffon blouses, the slinkiest silk dresses and full-length raw silk skirts, heavy with giant sequins, that rustle as you walk. Designer outfits don't come cheap Tahiliani's printed T-shirts cost 7100 rupees (about $230) and the long skirt I had my eye on in Ensemble was 17,200 rupees, but a similar piece in Australia would cost three times as much. If you do want to experiment with the ethnic look without forking out on designer gear, there are plenty of cheaper places. My guide took me to Artland, a tiny jewellery wholesalers, where the owner, Kamal Rathi, produced trays of silver pendants, bracelets and necklaces. There's more jewellery on Colaba Causeway, a frenetic road lined with stalls crammed with towering piles of scarves, sequinned bags, thousands of strands of beads, bangles and dangly earrings. Set out with some idea of what you're after. Top buys include beaded slippers and thongs they'll cost 300 rupees, much less if you buy several pairs and barter. After an hour of haggling in the heat to the background noise of a thousand car horns, slip into Leopold's for a restorative Kingfisher beer and a plate of chicken tikka with nan bread, or dust yourself down and head to the Taj Hotel for a chilled juice by the pool. In Mumbai, moments of calm are to be savoured. The city is exciting and exasperating in equal measure; it gets into your pores and up your nose, leaving you feeling exhilarated and drained at the same time. Some parts in the centre have a population density of 1 million per square mile, the highest in the world, and you feel it; it's impossible to walk outside without attracting a small crowd, usually grinning, grubby kids who run along beside you to tie bracelets made from jasmine flowers to your wrist or beg for milk for their baby brother or sister. It's unthinkable to refuse them. Mumbai has the largest slum in Asia and the most expensive real estate. "In the Bayview Bar of the Oberoi Hotel you can order a bottle of Dom Perignon for 11/2 times the average annual income, this in a city where 40 per cent of the houses lack safe drinking water," writes Suketu Mehta in his compelling book, Maximum City. On my last night, I headed for Chowpatty Beach. Nobody uses it during the day the water is filthy but in the evening thousands of people gather to chat over the day's events and eat bhel puri, a local dish made from a chickpea flour mix that's sifted, fried and served with chopped tomato, mango and coriander. The air is thick with conversations and the smell of maize cooking over open fires. It's a slice of Mumbai life from before the arrival of hip cocktail bars.
© 2005 Sun Herald