Cinequeens

Cinequeens

There's a movie festival organised by GB on Sunday, and I plan to go for this one. I've only been to one other festival like this in Bombay, and from what I've seen, it promises to be good. The reason why I've only been to one other movie do, though I profess to have been impressed by it? Well, blame it on my completely helter-skelter Page 3 life-ishtyle.

(I'm trying to crack a joke here, but my sense of humour has fallen quite flat. Even I, with my inflated head, didn't find that funny.)

But I was trying to make a point here, and I shall go back to trying now. The point was on the difference in demeanor of the crowd that attends these dos, the same crowd that also parties like crazy at the GB Saturday night extravaganzas. There's a difference: a very palpable difference: it's the idea of divas who suddenly feel they must transform themselves into enigmatic Sophia Lorens in the mornings.

Not that they succeed, entirely. A flashy gay man/ queen will remain a flashy gay man/ queen, come what may: flood, pestilence, disease or even worse: calories. The clothes remain flouncy, by and large, or ache to be kitschy, as my esteemed brilliant young gay interior decorator (sorry, designer!) will tell you. (He has an amazing yellow shirt with roses all over it, which he wears with these little Ramayan style chappals!) But it's in the air.... the air!

The air forbids interference. The air speaks: This is my air, this is the air of the cronies around me, and don't you dare breathe it! As long as you're with a gang of your own, you're safe. It's a very quaint syetem where inter-group hellos and how-do-you-do's are exchanged - something which reminds you of Ascot, complete with (in the most extreme cases) the bizzare hats! But, it's hell if you're alone there. You could probably get away with going to a party alone: hitting back a couple of drinks, and getting a hook-up for the night, - but that does not work at the movie festival. Because, by day, our divas are stony-faced, stiff-lipped, upper class empresses. All of which dissolves quite suddenly, when there's a tender moment in one of the brilliant films onscreen, and there's a collective gasp of ooohs and aaahs, like children watching Beauty finally kiss the Beast.

;-)

Yes, yes, of course I exaggerate: it's my prerogative to do so, dah-ling!