A French Ballad
Did I just time travel? Or those innumerable cups of coffee had some sinister substance in it.
Is it for real?
I grabbed my seat at the show area and waited for the sartorial spell to break into reality.
It felt like a scene from a French Gala or a Royal Soiree in the 19th century.
Marie Antonette's haunting presence on the ramp made me experience a strange thrill.
It was as if she stepped down from the archives to breathe through the epic costume drama curate by designer Varun Bahl on the ramp.
The painstaking research was evident. The resurrection was complete. Varun had dived back into time and ripped open the closets of French Royalty.
Fitted bodices and corsets with 'leg o mutton' and cuffed sleeves found a perfect match in embroidered lehengas and sarees in hues of pale greens, bright reds and fuschia pinks.
One of the greatest french exports- damask motifs were eternalised through resham embroderies on anarkalis in cascading chiffons. The majestic velvet jackets paraded the ramp with farshi pajamas.
The stunning line up of whites was breath-taking with their intricate embroidery patterns.
I say the French Fashion Gods definitely lie in detail. Kudos to Varun Bahl for picking up the immaculate detailing and executing it with great finesse on his pieces.
The exquisite embroideries, hand-pleating, ruched and gathered hemlines and quilting- all drummed out a perfect melody withthe brooding French score, playing at the background.
French scallop and feather-like tulle filled the air with french extravagance.
14 hours have passed by. But I am still living the couture dream woven by designer Varun Bahl on the ramp last night.
And the big question now- do I want to break the spell?
The answer- Hell No!