For a Great Cause

The runway was set, strategically illuminated to highlight the couture and contour of the attractive clotheshorses that were to walk on it. The crowd was yet to settle in, take their respective hierarchical rows of seat, preset by the magnitude of either their fame or bank balance. The ones with a greater degree of reputation or notoriety got passes to the front row with the best view while the hoi poloi settled for the seats at the back. Homo sapiens of all shapes and sizes showed up dressed in their finest and in their best behavior (which was subject to change depending on the amount of alcohol to be consumed that evening). They had all assembled to support the designer for a great cause.

Wine glasses were sneaked into the green room to mollify the anxious models as the designer and choreographer crossed their fingers. Some of the finest hand-woven silk had been cut and sewn to lure the biggest buyers in the fashion industry, to rid them of their excessive wealth. The models had been flown in from various corners of the world scouted over a number of prestigious beauty pageants and reality TV shows. Everything had to be just perfect. It was in support of a good cause.

The ensembles were yet to be showcased, so the bustling throng scattered around; some in search of their seats, some to network with the rich and famous, while some to strut in front of the constellating media posed like a firing squad. ‘What are you here for? The glam kittens cheerfully responded, “Aww, the designer is a very dear friend of mine…and ofcourse, it for such a special cause. I am here to support him.”

A segment of the privileged media entered the green room and repeated the rehearsed questions. The models answered, “Oh, you know, the designer is such a wonderful human being and this is such a good cause. So I am happy to support him and raise funds.”

‘Who are you wearing?’ they’d ask. The painted faces replied in their acquired accents “Aww, you know so and so!” The answers varied from known to lesser known to completely unknown designers.

The ramp was soon on fire. Under the psychedelic lights walked pleasant looking men and women in glitters and shimmers, to the rhythm of a catchy trance loop. The onlookers tried their best to keep their faces straight and desires down as they checked out the aphrodisiacal stunners.

The DJ rolled on some popular numbers to kick off the after party. Hips shook, legs moved, smiling faces engaged in fanciful wining and dining, blew air-kisses and exchanged pleasantries. Much to his delight, the designer’s prayers were answered. Everything went as planned. The charity gala was a tremendous hit. He could taste the success as he made his way through the cheering crowd holding hands with his show stopper. He could feel his feet tingling with joy inside his embroidered shoes.

Almost everyone who came to support him shelled out generously for his great cause.

The guests started to depart and one of them whispered into another one’s ear.

‘So this was fun. What was this all about again?’

‘I don’t know. I think some disease or poverty, or maybe something to do with some natural disaster’.

‘Eh! Never mind. Another one starts in half an hour. We gotta rush if we wanna make it on time.’



The story was inspired by an FTV coverage of an Indian Fashion event.