Formalwear stifles me, as I guess, it does a lot of other kindred souls. I dread the knot, single, double, multiple, whatever, that is nothing less than a loop which you force round your neck willingly. I sweat inside the coat – striped, black, blue, whatever… And worst of all, I go colour blind matching the two with a shirt – white, blue, collared, buttoned-down, whatever…
I don’t know whether to be a Roman in that age-old cliché means to dress like one when you are in Rome, but I am sure that in New Dubai, to be a New Dubai-ite, you better stitch a few coats, buy a few neck-ties, and suffer silently in it all.
Though, in Roman Holiday, Gregory Peck did spell out a dress code (and style statement thereof) of formalwear for journalists abroad, the media had largely been exempt of the trouble of a dress sense and could get away with anything short of nightwear – well, you get that too at late-night parties.
Those casual days of easy comfort seems like history. Much before the Dubai Media City housed its horde of PR companies and magazine-bounty, you could make out the true news guys from the marketing and PR chaps at press conferences. The “shabby” ones, the ones without overcoats, the ones wrapped in shawls, the ones who looked so much at home, were the “true” ones. The others stood out, and that did it for them.
Today, media events are more couture riotous, confusing, orchestrated and so much polished that they have become PR shows than press interactions: Which is why a bunch of giggling girls can shout out to Bollywood heartthrob Saif Ali Khan, at a press conference, “We love you,” and get away with it; Which is why a bunch of howling, bawling youngsters can laugh every time another Khan, of the Salman kind, opens his mouth, and convert the press horde into an easy fan club; which is why marketing wizards can sit in the front rows and shout to Shah Rukh, the other Khan, that he is worshipped in Morocco, and leave the scribes in muted mirth.
But as long as more is the merrier for the PR firms, press conferences are doomed to be showpiece events to impress clients. With the utter frivolousness of the whole business, you surely don’t expect the press corps not be part of the fun, and so they too turn up in their best overcoats, look under the reception desk for hidden gifts, eat sumptuous dinners, shake the gift-wrapped ‘with compliments,’ and dump those fancy crystals with the huge company logo at the first dust-bin. If only the reporters showed more solidarity, they could have opened a showroom for “mugs, t-shirts, caps, mouse pads and key chains” on Sheikh Zayed Road. Well, you mustn’t forget the privileged class: Their showroom will be stocked with perfumes, lip-sticks, mascaras, and a few old mobile phones.
We are a wee bit proud to say it to your face: But PR managers, please, don’t ridicule the media tribe with your innovative gift ideas, and we hear it is going to be safety-pins, needles and paper-clips…
And we can stuff that all in our over-coats; it has more pockets than needed to fit in a notepad and pen. Perhaps, that explains the formality…
