By Kahini Iyer Jan. 13, 2018
Bandra is like a theme park, an upscale Essel World for adults, and Bandra babes keep shit running. Here’s what you need to do if you want to sit with us.
adies, we need to talk. I’ve seen you, showing up at Monkey Bar or BSE, furtively sneaking glances at us Bandra babes. I’ve seen the pain in your eyes and the desperation in your tragic outfits. All you non-Bandra babes (and worse, Bandra non-babes) are really harshing the vibe and it needs to stop. How am I supposed to enjoy my overpriced cocktail at Esco when some chick from Versova is sitting in the corner wearing yoga pants that aren’t Lululemon? It’s time to Swachh Bandra.
So in the interest of general public, I’m going to teach you how to blend in with us Bandra babes. You’ll never really be one, but at least you can sit with us. Here is my four-point address:
I get it. It’s not your fault. You think Bandra is just a fun place to hang out with your friends. But did you ever stop and think about how it got that way? Bandra is like a theme park, an upscale Essel World for adults, and Bandra babes keep shit running. We party like rockstars every night, then get up early to jog down Bandstand. We take our green juice with your boyfriend on the side. We literally bend over backwards to make Bandra the place to be, and how do you repay us? By saying we’re wearing “longeries” before you puke on our Yeezys. And that’s a Tuesday night at Elbo Room! Have some respect. If you can’t check yourself before you wreck yourself, take that mess to Su Casa.
This one’s for the SoBo snobs: Stop trying so hard. Or rather, try really hard to look like you’re making no effort. Like you #wokeuplikethis. Put down that diamond set and slowly step away from your Louboutin stilettos. Or, to put it in words you’ll understand, “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off.” – Coco Chanel.
I don’t care who you are, where you’re from, or what you did — you need to lose weight, girl. You have to be this small to ride, and if you’re 50 kgs or more, fuck off to the Eastern suburbs. You’re ruining the scenery. It might sound mean, but you have to respect the effort we put in to create the Bandra Girl look. On any given day, you will see hordes of indistinguishable women sporting the same look with the kind of consistency and precision normally only seen in Chinese manufacturing plants. All it takes is a flat iron, an LBD, and some cute chappals or sneakers. For a night out, slap on some red lipstick and a pair of heels, and you’re good to go! If you’re really edgy and looking to commit, try a septum ring, or a side-shave that you’ll curse for the next three years.
On any given day, you will see hordes of indistinguishable women sporting the same look with the kind of consistency and precision normally only seen in Chinese manufacturing plants.
What’s in a name? A whole damn lot, that’s what. Bandra babes hook you upfront with a cute, snappy name that looks great on social media. Think Sia, Minnie, Shikha. And don’t you dare forget about social-media presence. Remember, nothing you say is as important as the pictures you post. You might feel stupid gazing thoughtfully into your rapidly defrosting lemon lychee apple-tini, but just think how many likes you’ll get on Instagram!
If you’ve crafted your persona just right, all you need to do is steer the conversation into more familiar waters. How’s your shoot going? Who’s got maal? Is she wearing Ruby Woo? As the long night wears on and your perfectly straightened hair starts to fluff, repeatedly scream “SHOTS!” in the direction of the bar and that should get you and your friends a free round. The golden rule is, however tempted you are, don’t try and name drop. Bandra babes don’t care if your aunt used to live in the same building as Dhinchak Pooja. We make social climbing look easy (it’s all the yoga). Nothing will identify you as an outsider faster than name-dropping. Except saying you don’t like Carter’s Blue.
I believe that together, we can make Bandra a beautiful, babe-a-licious haven for generations to come. Who’s with me?