In view of the negative press the capital's partying set has been getting in recent weeks, this columnist - a fatigued party-goer in the line of duty - decided to call the most frequently photographed party celebrities to ask what a day in their life is like. "Fittings!" groaned Savitri (name changed on request), "My days are spent on fittings." Savitri is a clothes horse who has hired a manager to style her look, so designers can loan her clothes to wear to social events. But it has made the poor thing's life gruelling. "I need to send them copies of the invitations before they give me clothes," she complained, and given how so many invitations come last minute, it creates chaos that her secretary must sort out, especially since the stylist insists on shoes, jewellery and watches from different brands, making each party an organisational nightmare. It also involves public relations firms that want her "finished look" photographed ahead of each party, so they can mail out press releases and pictures to editors who complain that they get the same pictures with competing claims from different PR companies - Savitri wears Rohit Bal to the Jai Ho premiere, or Savitri tells Bvlgari time, or Savitri steps out in Loboutin, or Savitri dazzles in Amrapali… "It's exhausting," I commiserate. "But if I don't do it," Savitri cribs, "that Mandakini will get all the publicity."
Mandakini (name changed etc) doesn't worry so much about clothes as she does for her complexion. Before going to bed, she covers herself in oils and unguents that range from cucumber and bitter gourd extract to fish oil, a mask of aloe vera on her face, requiring her to sleep on a rubber sheet. "It's hell in winter," she sighs. (Her friend Sheetal mentions it's probably the reason Mandakini is into her third marriage.) A masseuse arrives in the morning to improve her blood circulation, after which she gets her biweekly medical check-up seeking advice on wrinkle removal, crow's feet elimination and cellulite abstraction. She does yoga, pumps weights to tone her arms, spends the afternoon in a spa where she gets squeezed and pounded. The evening is spent with her make-up artiste and hair curator. Her favourite party trick? The chauffeur pinches her cheeks with just enough pressure to heighten their colour but without leaving bruises.
Sheetal (name changed) has a trainer who looks at her videos to advise her on deportation, ticking her off every time she suspects a slouch coming on, and shouts at any suggestion of gaucheness when exiting a car, especially when the paparazzi are clicking. "It's hell," Sheetal swears, "because my husband keeps changing cars". Just when she'd perfected swinging one leg behind another in a Rolls-Royce, he got a Range Rover. "It's difficult looking sexy when getting out of a SUV," she says.
Parvati is mean to her children because she's constantly on a diet. "The journos unkindly mention every pound you've gained," she sighs, "it's tough looking glamorous." Kamla's husband has confined her to a strict budget, so she does her shopping in Sarojini Nagar wearing a burqa, but claims her outfits come from London. Ranjana has learnt the art of layering her clothes, so she looks different in every appearance she makes - her limit is 15 minutes each at three parties every weekend, and two during the working week, for which she changes in the car. The rest of the day is spent ensuring that those 15 minutes of unexplained fame are not spent in vain.
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