MY BIG FAT INDIAN WEDDING

Things may get a little bridal on this blog as I'm getting married in July (squeal!). Don't worry, I don't have the bridezilla gene. If I have any virtues, it's that even in extreme pressure, my heart rate rarely goes over 65 (which came in handy when I was a news editor). The other thing is that I can't bring myself to fret over flowers or invitations, or worry about which guests need to be seated far away from another. If grown adults want to act like gimps at family reunions, that's their business as far as I'm concerned. Luckily as it's a small affair of about 100 people (ok, so the title of this post was slightly deceiving, but hey, you need a good headline to hook people in dont'cha?) everyone pretty much knows and loves everyone else.

As I write this, I'm slightly mopey about the fact that just a couple of days ago, I was in Bombay with my sister at the tail end of a chaotic holiday to shop for my wedding dress, and go to a cousin's wedding in Bangalore. A week later, and I've got my dress and matching jewellery tucked up at home. What's more, I snagged a boatload of jaw-droppingly gorgeous silk fabric from Crawford Market in South Mumbai to decorate my venue with. A word on Crawford Market - don't even dream about setting foot near it unless you have the stamina of an ox, and enough patience to withstand people waving all manner of crap in your face in the hope that you'll buy the towels/calendars/underwear/rattles/guitars they are selling. Once you've made it through, and trust me, you'll feel like you've broken into Mordor, there are endless stalls selling fabric so pretty and so ridiculously cheap (about $3 a metre), you'll go nuts. Well we did, anyway, and it took several vodka cocktails to recover. My cousin's wedding in Bangalore, on the other hand, really WAS a big fat Indian wedding, and I'll write about that asap as my brain is still processing the five day shindig with 5000 guests.

I'll post pics of all these goodies very soon, but for now, they're still sitting in Bangalore waiting for my Dad to cart them back for me. In the meantime, feast your eyeballs on the stuff by a sweet little online company called Zarbaft sold only through their Facebook site. It's got a lovely vintage 1970s vibe, very Zeenat Aman, and pretty reasonably priced too.

Zeenat, in all her 1970s glory.

Love this shade of green, plus the style hides batwings (ie, flubby triceps) too; Image: Zarbaft

Price on enquiry at Zarbaft

Rs 40,000 or about UK£500; Zarbaft

DISHOOM: A BIG DESIGN HIT FROM OLD BOMBAY

Long lost cousins? Clue is in the moustache...

Eating out in Indian restaurants in London is something I said goodbye to a long time ago. My family are such geniuses with a curry (and samosas, idlis, dosas....) that it seems madness to hand over cash for food that's just so-so. And it's not just the food. Trading the old maroon flocked-wallpaper of the traditional curry houses for the bland contemporary styling of the new breed of pricy Indian restaurants doesn't fill me with joy either.

Then Dishoom burst on the scene. Based in London's Covent Garden but styled as a vintage Bombay cafe, it pays homage to an era when Iranian immigrants to Mumbai opened up cafes dishing out chilli cheese toast (spicy, melty bits of breaded goodness), red-hot chai, minty lamb chops and kulfi for dessert. These cafes are fast fading to become a mere footnote in Bombay's history, replaced by temples to American fast food like pizza and fried chicken. But the old cafes weren't just memorable for the food, but for a distinctive air that inside, time stood still. Fans whirred slowly overhead, people hung out for ages over a single cup of tea, and all around was quiet vintage decoration.

Dishoom Shoreditch (I'm desperate for one of those chairs)

Dishoom's attempt to preserve some of the old Bombay charm has gone down such a storm in London, it's opening a new branch in Shoreditch, East London in October. Dishoom's kitchens produce some phenomenally tasty food but it's not just that - they do everything with a big fat sense of humour. Whether it's serving a gin and tonic with a drop of angostura bitters in a vintage brown glass "medicine bottle", sepia portraits on the pale blue walls, or the retro Indian cosmetics in the loos.

The 'rulebook' at Dishoom Shoreditch

Air-con at Dishoom Shoreditch

Dishoom Chowpatty Beach, the summer pop-up on London's South Bank

On its own, this styling would feel like a cunning marketing ploy to tap into our current love affair with all things retro driven by a nostalgic yearning for anything vintage. But Dishoom is full of celebration - whether it's Holi (the Indian festival of colour) or its own tongue-in-cheek take on Valentine's day (Velan-Times Day).  When good design is infused with integrity - now that's when it really flies. Whatever the Dishoom-wallahs do, they seem to do with love. For food, for India, and for immigrants everywhere. 

Tastes every bit as good as it looks...

I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts. Dishoom, Covent Garden

All photo credits: Dishoom