Power of three

It's oddly appropriate that J.J. Valaya appears in this section of Friday. The flamboyant Indian fashion designer tells Shalaka Paradkar that he regularly chats with “I, me and myself''. Perhaps the combined brilliance of this trio explains his incredible creativity.

Delhi's bucolic Chhattarpur precinct is replete with history and tradition. Set amid its leafy roads are sprawling temple complexes and farmhouses that used to host grand Indian weddings before civic authorities bulldozed them back to their original function.

It's a fitting locale for J.J. Valaya's flagship store. A discrete brass nameplate, slightly larger than a business card, is the only indication that one of India's pioneering fashion designers has set up shop here.

The green gates open into a garden full of birdsong and frangipani blossoms. Against this verdant backdrop sits the store - a fiercely modernist house that has been stripped of all embellishments. Its large plateglass windows overlook the gardens outside and showcase the creations inside.

The sumptuous garments are all the embellishment this space needs. J.J. Valaya's clothes are paeans to the splendours of Indian history and textile heritage.

The beautifully lit rows of iridescent jackets, splendidly bejewelled saris, slinky shirts and blouses have a museum-like quality to them, a sense of antiquity that prompts one to speak in hushed tones around the garments. The experience is like having trespassed into some maharajah's closet.

Little wonder then that J.J. - as he is popularly called - is one of the first names that well-heeled Indian brides think of when it comes to designing their trousseaus.

The harking back to a royal past also finds favour with a nouveau riche Indian diaspora, the new maharajahs and maharanis of the present.

Despite the nostalgia that cloaks his designs, Valaya's 16 years in the business have been a story of serious determination, hard work and talent.

According to an apocryphal story recounted in Delhi's party circuit, J.J. once received a standing ovation at a college awards function when he was mistaken for Punjabi singer Daler Mehndi and requested to perform.

At 39, his days of being mistaken for Mehndi are well behind him. For starters, he does not dress like the bhangra singer anymore. For our interview, J.J. sports his own designs, right down to the pointy-toed shoes.

The only exceptions are the Paul Smith cufflinks. A crisp white shirt is teamed with his own charcoal grey Valaya trousers: riding breeches in a new avatar with decorative stitching details on the side and a narrow fit at the ankles.

While the core of his oeuvre remains megawatt glam clothes for weddings and special occasions, Valaya is now a fashion tycoon of sorts, having consolidated and built his brand together with brother T.J. Singh.

The Valaya brand has also diversified into interior design, furnishings, a prêt line and flower arrangements.

In Dubai for a business trip and to oversee things in his Jumeirah store, Valaya took time out to chat about fashion and I, me, myself - the three people he says he is closest to.

I
I am tired of being mistaken for bhangra star Daler Mehndi. It's old news now. When Daler launched his first album and the hoardings were put up all over Delhi, I did a doubletake.

I was wondering why someone had bothered to put my picture on a poster. We even dressed in a similar style in those days. Yes, the resemblance is funny, but let's put it behind us now.

I think that if my house were to burn down, I would run out with my two dogs, one under each arm, my computer and my prayer book. Of course, this is assuming the humans have already run out and saved themselves.

I may have been a maharaja in my past life. Royalty fascinates me.

I am most peeved by the pseudoism of the fashion industry. As well as the frantic need for networking. Frankly, it doesn't excite me at all. I would rather people were just themselves - how long can you carry (on with) a facade? Sometimes, the industry can be rather shallow.

I do not think fashion is frivolous. I have seen how a single garment can fundamentally change someone's personality - making them more confident, extroverted and optimistic.

I feel the two things I would love to change about myself are my weight and my mood swings. I can go from being a taskmaster, driven and hardworking, to being terribly lazy. My Libran scales always find the balance somehow.

I think the three people I love talking to most are I, me, and myself. The three of us have some great conversations. We brainstorm together. And now we are doing this interview - I guess I am the best fit for this series (laughs).

Seriously, I love solitude and cherish being alone. When I work on a collection, I need to be left alone until the first mood boards and the first garment is produced.

It's then that the concept and mood of the whole collection becomes crystal clear and my team steps in. I don't know if it's a boon or bane. But when I am left alone, I am at my creative best.

Me
Me and my inspiration:
Ever since I can remember, I have loved art and design. If you see my front teeth, they are chipped in a symmetrical way. Even that I owe to my love of design.

When I was about 8 or 9, we had painters in the house. I saw a rusted tray full of enamel paint lying around. Excited by its artistic possibilities, I grabbed it and started running to my mother, slipped and fell in some paint and broke my teeth.

My mother, Raj Ahluwalia, was one of the foremost designers of children's clothes in her time. Throughout my childhood, I remember being surrounded by beautiful fabric swatches and embroidery samples, exquisite french knot embroidery and dainty cross-stitch.

Perhaps that influenced my choice of profession. My maternal aunt, Parmeshwar Godrej, is recognised as a style icon and trendsetter in Mumbai, where she now lives.

Throughout my school days, I always drew in my notebooks. Art fascinated me and the last 10 pages of any of my books were witness to my creative expression. I once drew an entire comic book in one of my notebooks. The teachers were not amused.

One of the people I credit with having helped me channel my creativity was Mrs Virk, my art teacher at YPS School, Chandigarh, where I studied until Grade 10.

Me, school and my first career:
I was born in Jodhpur, in the north-western Indian state of Rajasthan, on October 8, 1967. I was born into an army family; my father, Brigadier Ahluwalia, eventually took premature retirement from the Indian Army and our family settled in Chandigarh.

I believe I got my sense of larger-than-life style from the pomp and pageantry of army ceremonies. It also (sharpened) my sense of discipline.

At school, I was also a bully of sorts. When I was made a prefect, it was the perfect way for me to instil all the discipline and correct errant kids - as it happened with us fauji (army) kids.

I studied commerce and graduated, only because that was what was expected of me. My heart was never in it. I loved art, but was unsure of how that could be a career choice.

So I gave in to my parents' expectations and started studying to be a chartered accountant. I did my apprenticeship as a chartered accountant, travelling through small towns and auditing firms. It was deadly dull.

The turning point came shortly before I turned 20. One day I sold all the thick tomes associated with my accountancy studies to a second-hand bookseller.

I came home and told my mother that it was the end of my career as an accountant. I didn't know what I wanted to do, but was quite sure of what I didn't want to do - I certainly didn't want to be an accountant.

Me and finding my calling:
I took a sabbatical for a year, during which I explored various career options. I asked for prospectuses from various institutes all over the country.

Somebody then happened to mention the National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT) in Delhi. I travelled to Delhi and as soon as I saw the NIFT campus, I knew this was where I wanted to be.

No student worked harder or longer at getting into NIFT. There was nothing I wanted more than to study there and become a fashion designer.

And the hard work I put into that initial portfolio and preparing for the entrance exam was commendable. It was all worth it when I made the cut and was part of NIFT's third batch of graduating students.

It was an intriguing time to be part of the Indian fashion industry. There was no fashion media, no satellite television - fashion coverage was unheard of. In many ways, we were the pioneers of the industry.

In my final year at NIFT, I also bagged the prestigious Prix d' Ínstitution award. I worked two months with a man I consider the father of Indian fashion, Rohit Khosla. I admired the way his designs effortlessly exuded style. His clothes didn't try too hard to be stylish.

Me and my collections:
My fascination with aged finishes and colours can be traced back to the time I became fascinated with the Kutch region and the clothes worn by the nomadic tribal women there.

The metalwork in the embroidery has an oxidised finish, an antique texture which comes from having weathered the elements. That instantly appealed to me.

The 1993 Kutch collection was inspired by this region. It had plain sarees worn with these blouses and men's shirts that retailed for some Rs5,000 (about Dh416) each in 1993-94. It was a sellout and orders kept pouring in. We couldn't keep up with demand.

If I were to define the look of my designs, it would be nomadic royal. While regality and grandeur are paramount, the roughness of nomadic attire adds an intriguing note. The contrast works for me.

I get my best ideas when I am by myself. Each of my collections … has a story behind it. For instance, the collection I did last year came about because I am a great fan of Tintin and his creator, Herge. I have a huge collection of Tintin comics.

Herge exemplified a world that I didn't know anything about - Tintin travelled to Central America, to Japan, even to the moon. It was also the 75th year of the creation of Tintin and I thought of paying homage to Herge through this collection.

A designer should be able to design anything. After designing clothes, home furnishings and Valaya Fleur - our flower installations venture - I will possibly explore designing boutique hotels.

Me and my family:
I married my wife, Meghna, in 1997. Our families had been friends, so it was a quasi-arranged, quasi-love match.

Meghna is a homemaker and full-time mother to our daughter, Hanisa, who was born in 1998. Meghna loves dance, music and singing. She brings stability to my life. That's important, especially because I am in a profession where it's easy to get carried away and believe the hype about oneself.

Watching Hanisa grow is an endlessly fascinating process. She is creative and loves painting, designing jewellery and cards. She is also one of my harshest critics and tells me in no uncertain terms when she doesn't like one of my designs.

The three of us are also hardcore movie buffs. It's our favourite way to enjoy our time as a family. Becoming a father and working as a fashion designer has also put severe pressure on my time commitments. I, me and myself now have almost no time together - so it takes a deft balancing act to pull it all off!

Myself

As a designer, what is your take on the issue of super-thin models?
Well, I have yet to meet a woman who didn't want to lose a few pounds. In my profession, I have seen many gorgeous, perfectly voluptuous women complain about their weight.

Having said that, I think this whole issue of thin models is being blown up by the media. I am sure it will die a natural death in a few days and another issue will grab the headlines. For health reasons of course, nobody should starve themselves to look good. I am absolutely against that.

Aside from fashion, what are your hobbies?
One of my greatest passions is photography. I first started when I was 18. All the campaigns for my label are shot by me … I do not do them for commercial considerations, just for myself.

I love travelling. Dubai as a city fascinates me. I first came here 12 years ago when the World Trade Centre was the tallest building in town. The large number of people from the subcontinent makes it feel like home.

My other passion is cars. I have had a succession of cars which exemplify my journey through life. From taking the bus to school, I graduated to a bicycle, then it was a motorcycle for my NIFT days.

I then bought a second-hand car, then a brand-new Maruti 800. That was followed by a Cielo, an Opel Astra, a Hyundai Sonata, a Honda Accord, and I now drive an Audi A6.

Valaya Fleur came about through my love of fresh flowers and greenery. It is a business dedicated to the art of flower arrangement. My love of greenery harks back to a childhood spent in those rambling fauji houses with their sprawling gardens.

Looking back, which of your successes do you cherish the most?
When I first started designing, the fashion industry landscape was very different. The first fashion stores were just opening their doors, such as Ffolio, Ensemble, Ogaan … people were becoming (aware of) the fact that labels exist.

These retailers were the ones who gave that initial push to Indian talent, before satellite television and the media explosion happened.

My biggest achievement so far has been getting into NIFT and winning the Prix d' Ínstitution award. Otherwise, the next big one is still out there, I think.

Many successes have happened in the interim - I have had some great live shows, we have shown our garments all over the world, have two flagship stores in Delhi and Dubai and are opening one soon in Mumbai.

You're unique in being the first Sikh fashion designer. Was it easy to break in?
Everyone knows of the Sikhs as these great entrepreneurs, agriculturalists, businesspeople and intrepid travellers who have settled in every corner of the world. But there was never a Sikh fashion designer until I came along.

I have never faced any overt discrimination on account of my religion. Although there would be snickering, as Sikhs and style aren't thought of as a perfect fit. Nor have Sikhs been hailed as fashion icons. And then you have all these Sardarji jokes.

Even within the community the idea of fashion as a career used to be met with scepticism. This is surprising considering that all the great luxury brands of the world came to India through royal patronage from personalities such as the Maharaja of Patiala and the Maharaja of Kapurthala.

Cartier and Louis Vuitton have produced coffee-table books about the style of these maharajahs, who were Sikhs.

I was once at a party with Gudda (fashion designer Rohit Bal) when an orotund lady dressed in a salwar kameez accosted us. Gudda introduced us, whereupon she turned around and exclaimed, “Oh, you are that designer who makes those Punjabi clothes.''

I was gobsmacked by the attitude, particularly since she was a Punjabi herself, wearing Punjabi clothes. For people like her, if a Kashmiri (like Gudda) designs salwar kameez, they stop being 'Punjabi'.

So I have heard snide remarks, but I brush them off.
As a people, we love pulling each other down. All that is changing now, though. Sikhs and Punjabi culture are loved for their vibrancy and liveliness. Everyone all over India and abroad loves dancing to bhangra tunes and enthusiastically embracing Punjabi culture.