Aptly named, the official description of the event was (and I really do quote), “Fashion is trends of the day, so a Fashionova is a professional showing of a clothing pieces.” And if we thought we had our fill of mediocre dance performances and poorly sewn garments parading down a runway, then we were sadly mistaken.
Exactly 20 colleges within a 2-hour radius came prepared to fight till the death over their artistic skills. The day started off with Mehendhi (Henna), traditional pottery, and face painting competitions. It then moved onto the much-loved dance competition, where every college showcased what we are supposed to stomach as their most rhythmically moved students. The one thing that truly baffled me was their utter confidence in themselves. Their blue steel facial expressions did not match their arbitrarily flailing extremities. We managed to capture some of these moments of magic for your shear enjoyment, but the apparently the internet here doesn’t have the power to upload videos.
As Naz and I were trying to escape unnoticed we were accosted by two faculty members who asked us to judge the main event of the evening; the inter-collegiate fashion show itself. Obligated to say yes we resigned ourselves to what was in store. Thankfully our third judge happened to be a younger gentleman much like ourselves who had grown up in Melbourne and could share in the unintended joy the gaudy assemblage of materials brought us. There was everything from a witch inspired line, to floor length gowns that resembled your childhood dress up clothes, to savages in grass skirts, to hundreds of yards of haphazardly draped fabric parading as dresses, and the list goes on. And on. 20 individual lines later and Naz and I were ready to crown the midget and call it a day.
Now despite what my account may lead you to believe there were a few garments that fit the competition description of “high fashion” but these were few and far between. And when a male “model” inadvertently made the vag-munching symbol (you know what I mean) on stage for the world to see, it almost made it all worthwhile. After we managed to stop laughing 10 minutes later the other judges and I took comfort in the fact that no one else in that entire auditorium was aware of the implications that those two little fingers and tongue had just made. And after a few awkward question and answer sessions the victors were finally decided amongst ourselves.
With the cool breeze settling in we felt relieved of our duties only to find out that the 10,000 rupee prize (over 200 USD, which is quite a lot to them) was awarded to the wrong group. Not
only that, but it was awarded to just about the most pathetically attired ensemble to grace the stage. As the ecstatic girls clothed in what can only be described as Halloween costumes purchased at K-Mart claimed their undeserved prize, we were immobilized by the gaping hole that spread throughout our insides. That was 4 hours of my life that I can never get back. We still aren’t quite over the whole experience and if I could press the rewind button I would have screamed in horror and ran up on stage in front of hundreds of people and pried the damn trophy from their incompetent little hands. Alas, we can only take solace in the parting gifts bestowed upon us for our supreme judging skills. What can only be seen as a sign of god, the dolls are corresponding heights and do rather look like Naz and me. There is always beauty in the aftermath.
Exactly 20 colleges within a 2-hour radius came prepared to fight till the death over their artistic skills. The day started off with Mehendhi (Henna), traditional pottery, and face painting competitions. It then moved onto the much-loved dance competition, where every college showcased what we are supposed to stomach as their most rhythmically moved students. The one thing that truly baffled me was their utter confidence in themselves. Their blue steel facial expressions did not match their arbitrarily flailing extremities. We managed to capture some of these moments of magic for your shear enjoyment, but the apparently the internet here doesn’t have the power to upload videos.
As Naz and I were trying to escape unnoticed we were accosted by two faculty members who asked us to judge the main event of the evening; the inter-collegiate fashion show itself. Obligated to say yes we resigned ourselves to what was in store. Thankfully our third judge happened to be a younger gentleman much like ourselves who had grown up in Melbourne and could share in the unintended joy the gaudy assemblage of materials brought us. There was everything from a witch inspired line, to floor length gowns that resembled your childhood dress up clothes, to savages in grass skirts, to hundreds of yards of haphazardly draped fabric parading as dresses, and the list goes on. And on. 20 individual lines later and Naz and I were ready to crown the midget and call it a day.
Now despite what my account may lead you to believe there were a few garments that fit the competition description of “high fashion” but these were few and far between. And when a male “model” inadvertently made the vag-munching symbol (you know what I mean) on stage for the world to see, it almost made it all worthwhile. After we managed to stop laughing 10 minutes later the other judges and I took comfort in the fact that no one else in that entire auditorium was aware of the implications that those two little fingers and tongue had just made. And after a few awkward question and answer sessions the victors were finally decided amongst ourselves.
With the cool breeze settling in we felt relieved of our duties only to find out that the 10,000 rupee prize (over 200 USD, which is quite a lot to them) was awarded to the wrong group. Not
only that, but it was awarded to just about the most pathetically attired ensemble to grace the stage. As the ecstatic girls clothed in what can only be described as Halloween costumes purchased at K-Mart claimed their undeserved prize, we were immobilized by the gaping hole that spread throughout our insides. That was 4 hours of my life that I can never get back. We still aren’t quite over the whole experience and if I could press the rewind button I would have screamed in horror and ran up on stage in front of hundreds of people and pried the damn trophy from their incompetent little hands. Alas, we can only take solace in the parting gifts bestowed upon us for our supreme judging skills. What can only be seen as a sign of god, the dolls are corresponding heights and do rather look like Naz and me. There is always beauty in the aftermath.
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