The Express Tribune hi five - March 3

Ms MARCH 3, 2013 ISSUE NO. 37

Do you love lawn or loathe it?page

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Summer Splash

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inside what she said —

To all the preachy married friends out there

domestic goddess —

The aromatic flavours of thai red curry

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Section In-Charge: Batool Zehra Send your feedback to women@tribune.com.pk

Rockstar Appeal

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Ms

the buzz

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, MARCH 3, 2013

Divide and Rule!

‘Sasti’ lawn and ‘designer’ lawn — somewhere down the line, the phenomenon of branding lawn has exacerbated social divides

by Nida Ameen

With the coming of spring, the annual madness known as ‘lawn season’ returns to Pakistan. The ethnic feel of Mausummery, the psychedelic prints of Junaid Jamshed and the glamorous colours of Asim Jofa reign among billboards from Defence to Nazimabad, from the high-end streets of MM Alam Road to the bustling markets of Anarkali and from the swanky F-11 Markaz to the bargain counters of Rajah Bazaar.

I confess that I’m a lawn fan and a frequent visitor to lawn exhibitions — after all, what’s not to love about this soft, comfy, breezy fabric? But I still haven’t gotten over the atrocity I witnessed last year at one of the biggest and most anticipated lawn exhibitions. So there I was, a helpless victim of the lawn spell, looking at the memo on which I had carefully marked the clothes I wanted, standing patiently in line to collect my suits. After five miserable hours, I was finally approaching the collection counter when a woman literally hurled onto me! “Yeh mera suit hai! Tu ne haath kaise lagaya isse!” (This is my suit! How dare you lay a hand on it!) screamed another very furious woman, who had pushed the first lady onto me. This was followed with a slap on the face, and a tug of war of dupattas. Honestly though, as hilarious as the catfight was, it was also disheartening to the core: does a branded 3 piece lawn suit, that more than 500 women will be seen wearing on the streets, mean more than your own selfrespect?

The other thing that stands out at these exhibitions is the huge disparity in the amount of money spent on these suits. While there are the women on a restricted budget who back off right after setting eyes on those price tags, there are also some extreme spenders who buy suits worth Rs2 to 3 lakhs!

You have seen them, haven’t you? Often these women set up deals with the salesmen behind the counter and pre-book their orders. This is also the reason why you and I never got that favourite print of ours — by the time we reached the counter, it was sold out, thanks to the aunty who had booked suits!

The lawn shopping experience today is drastically different from what it was just a few years ago. It was not long ago when my mother would pick me up from school and we would go to the small retail shops at Qurtaba market to check out the new lawn prints. While I would rummage through only the shirt pieces, my mom would cast a critical eye on ‘thaans’ and ‘thaans’ of lawn fabric. Back then, Gul Ahmed, Mohammad Farooq, Al-Karam and Lala Classic (a major brand at the time) drove the lawn market. Yet there was a huge variety of cloth to choose from and, more importantly, it came at a very reasonable price.

There was something for everyone: the budget-bound woman, the student, the socialite who wanted something chic yet comfy, and the shopaholic.

Things have changed since then. While there are more than 100 lawn brands operating now, the choice appears limited and prices have skyrocketed. It may not be immediately evident, but somewhere down the line, the phenomenon of branded lawn has given rise to class divides.

Of course, using socio-economic data to devise marketing tactics is nothing new to the fashion industry. Take Zara and H&M, for example. While Zara targets the high-end, classy working woman (including celebrities), H&M attracts the young, low-budget teenager and the regular woman. On a personal note, I have worn and loved both, though I understand that the price difference is there for a reason. The point is that these brands established themselves with such an image from the very beginning. Lawn, on the other hand, was never meant to be a branded, designer product. It has always been for the masses and while designers claim that their lawn collection are an easy way for the masses to access a highend label the advertisements and price tags tell a different story altogether.

Just last September, I conducted a research on fashion branding in the lawn industry for my master’s thesis and took around 100 interviews to gauge public opinion. Nearly 90% of women from all walks of life, were not only frustrated

with the amount of stress they had to undergo to get a lawn suit, but were also fed up of the social stigmas that these designer brands were creating. The few who really cared about brands already owned well-stocked wardrobes to which a designer lawn suit became merely another addition and another outfit to flaunt at one of those trendy committee parties. However, those who viewed lawn in its practical sense as a daily, casual outfit felt aggravated at lawn trying to take up the high-end, luxury good role and were annoyed over having to spend a handsome amount of money on ‘just’ lawn. The fact that lawn is now either ‘sasti lawn’ or ‘designer lawn’ is a status symbol and social divider. For those who buy designer lawn, the sole purpose of wearing the fabric is to be praised and envied by others rather than for personal comfort and satisfaction. The quality of the material is not so much a concern as the brand’s reputation and the image associated with it.

Does anybody remember the much-hyped controversy over the Sana Safinaz lawn ad that had the glamorous Neha Ahmed sitting amongst a group of coolies with her Louis Vuitton luggage? Although the issue is now done and dusted, it is worth considering how some of the major lawn brands out there only want to associate themselves with luxury products and aim to attract an elite clientele.

I say this because I doubt a regular, middle-class housewife can relate to Louis Vuitton luggage. The trend of featuring high-end western designer accessories in their advertisements has not just been adopted by Sana Safinaz, but nearly all major designer lawn brands. A few days back I found out that the model in a recent Jofa advert was carrying an Hermes bag! What message is the designer sending when his suit needs to be accessorised with a bag that would cost me more than 12 months of my salary? And that too a lawn suit whose fabric is barely any different from a mid-range unbranded lawn suit?

Soft, light lawn fabric has always made a splash in the summer because of its cool and airy feel, a significant indicator of fabric quality. For years, textile mills such as Gul Ahmed and Al-Karam, have waged wars against each other to be crowned the best quality lawn-makers. This led to consumers having an excellent variety of fabric to choose from. Even the relatively cheaper brands such as Lala Classic and Five Star offered good quality fabric with a natural finesse.

However, with couture designers collaborating with textile newbies and new lawn designers mushrooming every year, the focus has shifted more towards eyecatching prints and delicate embroidery instead of the durability and reliability of the fabric. Although designers claim their lawn products are cheaper compared to their formal line, the embellishments on the fabric and the extras it comes with means that it still falls in the category of luxury wear. With competition so intense and the ascendance of designers in the industry, the old experts are now offering lower quality rip-offs, giving rise to counterfeiting. So it doesn’t really matter if you’re not affluent enough to afford a designer lawn suit, you can just get a low quality copy instead! What has taken a hit, is the quality of the fabric.

Such class-based and discriminatory branding makes me wonder if good quality lawn continues to be targeted at the rich, who will cater to the masses?

If designers believe their collections to be an easy way for the regular woman to access high-end labels, why do they create such adverts and why do they charge such a high price? Are low quality alternatives the middle-income, budgetconscious woman’s only option? Do we need to accentuate social divides as tools and make them worse? The aim here is not to criticise our talented designers but instead to point a flaw in their branding and marketing techniques that has polarised customers. No doubt the amount of economic growth this industry brings to Pakistan is worth applauding but designers and mills need to focus on quality and work towards creating a global appeal for a fabric that is a product of Pakistan. I don’t know about the rest of you but I would surely like lawn to remain a mass product as it was meant to be and see it progress in global markets.

"What message is the designer sending when his suit needs to be accessorised with a bag that would cost me more than 12 months of my salary?

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THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, MARCH 3, 2013

Lawn hater Why lawn-snobs spend thousands on more or less similar prints every year is a complete mystery to some of us

by Faiza Rahman Start with a surplus of women on gigantic billboards, throw in a ballroom at a five-star hotel, then unleash a stampede of bored aunties — and there you go. That’s a lawn exhibition for you.

Ever been to one? No? Well then, you’ve successfully spared yourself from being prodded in the back by a hundred blood-tinted talons. Not to mention saved your patience and courtesy from being trampled upon by pointy stilettos, and your anger management skills from being tested most exhaustively.

To begin with, please stop calling them ‘lawn’ exhibitions. They would more readily qualify for being called Iman Ali exhibitions. Or Ayyan exhibitions.

Say hello to the most conniving forms of advertising, and send your love to dear old Marx.

The ‘exhibition’ of lawn upon the slick body of a lady, bursting with the allures of youth and beauty (read: surgery and starvation) is the ugliest gimmick you’ll come across, and something you would want to shelter your daughter from.

It’s like this: see how pretty that painted face is. See how beautifully the cloth falls upon that liposuctioned, tummy-tucked-after-being-starvedfor-years torso of hers. Develop a crippling inferiority complex and spend bizarre amounts of money on the most grotesque prints of the most commonplace fabric to join the ratrace to elusive beauty. Thoughtless conformism is your new god.

My advice to you is to remember that there is nothing extraordinary about the product being advertised. This excellent, excellent variety of fabric can be purchased more cheaply and worn much more modestly. If you must buy designer lawn prints, remember that these labels come out every year. With new prints, ornaments and accessories.

Which means that most lawn-snobs would rather die than wear a lawn suit for more than a year. Which also means that they will moronically trot

off to exhibitions every year and spend absurd amounts of hard-earned money on over-priced cloth. Why they do so remains a complete mystery for many of us.

Because, you see, it’s more or less the same deal every single year. The same repetitive prints by most of the labels: the florals, the geometricals and the ethnics. Splash a magnified version of the same print on the dupatta, and finish off with a gigantic border in the most ridiculous of colors. Make sure the colour of the border is not present anywhere else in the ensemble, so that you can get full marks for incongruity.

Cloud your aesthetic shortcomings by justifying the absurdity as ‘contrast’.

Hang it upon the bare shoulders of your ‘exhibit’. Splash teasing images of her on billboards all over the city.

And there you go. Now you can make your millions.

Alternatively, do several suits in black and white. Design an entire black-and-white range. Philosophise.

Confuse them. “Oh, you see, my lawn is a portrayal of the status-quo in Afghanistan. The black stands for Nato forces, and the white for the Taliban.

The blue lace stands for the UN. My inspiration comes from flowing water, flying birds, the art training I never got, and all the newspapers you never read.”

Oh, and the billboards! Yes, those billboards which add to nothing but car maintenance bills, with men gawking at the models instead of the road. The most destructive kind of ‘creativity’ let loose on yards of Panaflex and thrust in the faces of clueless masses. Though the photography is often brilliant, surely there are more sensible ways of displaying lawn than having yards of cloth draped around a woman whose expression portends complete gastric breakdown any second? Or a damsel wearing a scintillating dupatta over bare shoulders, while sprawled dreamily upon the sands of a shore. Try that on Clifton Beach on a Sunday, why don’t you?

"Most lawn-snobs would rather die than wear a lawn suit for more than a year

Do you think the marketing techniques used by lawn-makers accentuate social divides? See what other readers think and take our survey on www.tribune.com.pk

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Ms

en vogue

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, MARCH 3, 2013

Cultural Imprints MauSummery by Huma’s PURE Print Collection is inspired by the rich cultures of Morrocco, India and China. This collection is an trip back in history.

Label: MauSummery by Huma Collection: PURE Collection 2013 Make-up, Styling and Photography: Maram & Aabroo Hashmi Model: Nisha Butt

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, MARCH 3, 2013

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Ms

What she said

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, MARCH 3, 2013

An open letter to the preachy married friend

all Pakistani singles have by Noor Masood

Noor Masood studied International Development at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government, and has worked at The World Bank and Harvard University. She is passionate about teaching adaptive leadership, singing, and spirituality.

Dear friend, Let me start by telling you I love you and I love our time together.

All except your breathless speech about how to find a “good man”, “settle down”, “stop being an idealist”, and “stop evaluating too much”. I know you want me to get married this second, but I want to tell you, that’s not possible.

When you recommend people I should meet and I say I am not sure about them and you attack after a pause, when you remind me that I am a thirty-something and this is the time to settle if I want children, I want to tell you that I love you; I love your children; but they do sometimes scream too much. I am not sure children will give meaning to my life.

I think I have been in my head too long, but I am pretty comfortable being alone and, sorry to burst your bubble, but I am not dying to tie the knot today. Your lectures, and the lectures of others like you, are stressing me out though. All around, I see intelligent, beautiful and amazing women and men breaking down and throwing themselves at possible partners who do not deserve their attention one bit. They are disrespectful, useless and, frankly, just juvenile.

I am not sure which life problem you and these people think marriage can actually solve: What meaning can it provide? What fun? Or stimulation? People nagging you will never stop. Isn’t marriage a natural expression of a strong, almost spiritual, bond between you and a romantic partner? Did I miss the memo that declared it the answer of your life’s woes?

Marriage, to me, is a delicate balance of freedom and connectedness. I want to continue to live freely, to explore, to wonder, to run around, to create. And I certainly want to be connected, come back ‘home’ to someone who respects me and loves me for who I am. Do you, my married friend, who feels so entitled to bestow your wisdom on me, honestly say that you have both freedom and connectedness?

For the record, I do want to get married. But more than that, I want to meet the right person for me. If that takes time and I wait like a hopeless idiot, and don’t have children, then so be it. But I won’t let your cynical view of the world make me jump in the same blackhole of self-righteousness that you feel so comfortable disappearing in.

With love, — your Single 30-Something Friend

domestic goddess 7 7 recipe

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, MARCH 3, 2013

Thai Red Curry Madiha Hamid is a digital media professional. She loves the food traditions unique to families.

She is running a food blog for Pakistani and regional cuisines called cheflingtales.com

Known as ‘Panang Gai’ in Thailand, Thai Red Curry is one of the most popular Thai dishes. The real essence of this dish lies in its curry paste which is an exotic blend of fresh herbs and spices such Kaffir lime, galangal, lemongrass, garlic, onion and red chilies. Although, these ingredients are not readily available in Pakistan, an imported Thai curry paste can be the perfect substitute to get those aromatic flavours of an original Thai curry.

Note: Avoid using dried versions of kaffir leaves, galangal or basil. That will only ruin the flavour.

method • Take half of the coconut milk in a pan and bring it to boil.

• Add curry paste into the boiling coconut milk and mix it well.

• Add kaffir lime leaves, fish sauce and meat to the mixture. Also pour in the chicken broth if you’re using it and cook till the meat is tender.

• Pour the remaining coconut milk to the curry along with water and pumpkin cubes. Cook till the pumpkin is soft. (You can add more water if pumpkin is still undercooked) • Place some Thai basil leaves in the curry and let it simmer for 2 minutes.

• Serve hot with steamed rice.

Preparation time: 15 minute(s) Cooking time: 20 minute(s) Serves 3 people

ingredients Red curry paste 2-3 tbsp Water 250 ml Coconut milk 500 ml Kaffir lime 4 leaves Pumpkin cubes (optional) 200g Clear chicken broth (optional) ½ cup Fish sauce 6 tbsp Chicken (sliced thinly) 400g Basil 20 leaves

hottie of the week 8

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, MARCH 3, 2013

Who is he?

Face

We can’t resist a guy who can hold a tune and rock band Qayaas’ frontman Umair Jaswal can definitely hold more than a few tunes.

This well-built, gorgeous specimen of a man first shot to fame when his band was awarded “Jack Daniel’s Annual Rock Award for the Best Pakistani Band” in India in 2010. That prestigious award was followed by another award in Malaysia, and suddenly he was recognised as a force to reckon with in the music industry. His band just recently released a track called Cut my wings and they have an album with English and Urdu tracks releasing soon.

75%

Body

Why we love him Growing up, Umair had enormous shoes to fill. While he loved acting in plays and sang in a band throughout his academic years, his father happened to be one of the best scientists in Pakistan. So everyone around him thought he’d be following in the tracks of his scholastic dad. And boy, did Umair try — he studied hard and got into one of the best dental schools. However, he changed his mind at the last minute to pursue Geology. But while he studied to become a geologist, his artistic aspirations never faded. And eventually, he decided to pursue music full time.

But Umair isn’t a risk-taker only when it comes to his professional life, he’s also into extreme sports and is a trained mountain climber who has tested out the Himalayan peaks. When he’s not climbing peaks or music charts, he likes giving advice on body-building to some of his fans. “I wouldn’t mind doing a Calvin Klein underwear advertisement one day,” jokes Umair. We promise you Umair, your female fans won’t mind that either.

When asked where he sees himself in five years, Umair says, “I’d want at least four albums under my belt. Hopefully, I’ll be on an international tour with a great band.”

We love all that ambitiousness in a man but does that mean marriage won’t feature in his immediate future? “If I meet the right girl, who is as crazy and adventurous, and supportive of me, I’d get married tomorrow.”

His celebrity crushes

85%

Talent

75%

Total Package

78%

“My crushes keep changing every month but I saw model Ayaan at an awards show recently and she looked beautiful. Internationally, I love actor Olivia Wilde,” says Umair.

His ideal woman “She has to be really classy — and I’m really big on beautiful voices.

I may have dumped a few for their voices in the past,” he says (we hope he’s joking).

Status Born

Single

Islamabad, Pakistan

Birthday

December 20, 1986

Umair Jaswal