Fashion plays an important part in Indian cinema, and star attire plays a supremely stellar role in setting trends across the nation. Though not greatly deserving of accolades and top honours, Bollywood fashion has had its share of pathbreakers. Heroines have sparked aspiration in dressing; their styles have acted as references for millions. A ‘Mumtaz’ churidar set, a ‘Madhuri’ choli or a ‘Kareena’ patiala shalwar can be found in various avatars – premium boutique, swanky mall, station-side shop or custom-fit darzee.

Compared to the conventional Indian actress, by no means was Fearless Nadia a trendsetter, but it takes no genius to figure out that she was a non-conformist, a rebel, and a cult figure. The ‘Fearless’ films were forward for their time in terms of theme, presentation, characters and ideas, but a major part of the impact was made by Nadia’s style. Awe, horror, shock, amazement – a medley of emotions, or rather, reactions was induced. Aesthetically appalling, couture carnage! A diplomatic ‘erm…different’ should suffice for its description.

But style encompasses fashion, and also transcends it. And this is what Nadia had in oodles – a strange appeal that draws one to explore her various facets, which, more than 70 years later, remain debatable fashion staples, and instantly connectable. Why else should I, crop of the present, post-feminist era, look at sepia tinted pulp films and a badly dressed ancient actress for fashion inspiration? The answer, my impeccably attired poised perfectionistas, is manifold.

Boo! Size Zero
A whip-wielding, masked woman in body-hugging shorts showing off her ‘thunder thighs’ to full advantage is the most vivid Nadia image, immediately synonymous with her name. The actress, from childhood, had issues with weight, despite a physically active lifestyle. Though these were the good old, pre-anorexia/ bulimia times (1930s and 40s), a svelte figure was certainly a coveted asset. But neither was Nadia a delicate beauty, nor did her somewhat robust frame match Indian stan–dards of curvaceousness.

Nadia showed deference to size-consciousness, and far from hiding in tents, she happily donned leggings, shorts, bathing suits and other fitted gear which complemented her action-star image, exuding a sexiness that was different from the demure sensuality of good Indian girls, but also unlike the aggressive, somewhat ‘vulgar’ vamp image. Hints of free-spirited nonchalance did not interfere with sexy and cross over to ‘comic’ territory, which most ‘pleasantly plump’ women are associated with.

Cross Cultural Indian
A Scot-Greek offspring, born in Australia, raised in India. A blonde, blue-eyed ‘Indian’ lead actress, constantly switching between saris and shorts. A mélange of Russian folk and circus attire, American rodeo costume, superhero garb, 1930s and 40s chic, traditional Indian dressing, and desi styling. Flawlessly switching from one persona to another, often in a single film, Nadia embodied the early grass-root cosmopolitan.

The rigid Indian-Western dress distinction still exists in many parts of the country, and has been consistently magnified by Bollywood cinema, typecasting characters, and even actresses. Nadia’s multi-ethnic background allowed her swinging role-play and style to be unquestionably accepted by the nation’s audience. Her Indian contemporaries and successors, however, struggled for many more decades before somewhat dissolving the demarcation.

Gender Bender
One of Indian cinema’s earliest statements on androgynous dressing arrived much before the Western world had accepted the overlapping of masculine-feminine dress codes. A one-off, certainly, but Nadia carried off suits, trousers, waistcoats, hats and boots with natural ease. This was not cross dressing, but the appropriate attire for a convention-defying character, who happened to be a woman. Nor was she wearing men’s clothing; the pieces were created for her. There were no sexuality-related innuendos; nor were any questions raised on Nadia’s femininity (no one could confuse the buxom actress for a man, even in a thick woollen suit!).

Nadia’s costumes also sent a mess-age regarding functionality in women’s clothing, which, then, was an area dominated by traditional aesthetics and set, ‘feminine’ guidelines. An active and fit lifestyle, now considered both beneficial and fashionable, was not regarded ‘womanly’, especially among the elite. It was more of a ‘man’s thing’. But however small – the role of Nadia was a reference for film costume in later decades, particularly the advent of pedal pushers and bell bottoms for heroines.

Skin and Sexy
Earlier, leading ladies did not show much skin, but peek-a-boo hints. The grand job was left to the screen ‘vamps’ – the glamorous seductress (usually the villain’s mistress) who died by the end of the film. Nadia’s roles required her to sport fitted costumes and display ample leg, arm and midriff. Shorts and dance outfits were regulars in Nadia’s film wardrobe – cleverly calculated and mildly titillating. But due to the larger-than-life personas that she portrayed, the displays of flesh were viewed as natural essentials. After the initial shocked gasps upon her introduction, the audience barely batted an eyelid when a ‘good’ character wore ‘these sort of’ clothes.

Yes, Nadia’s white skin was again the reason why she was accepted as a sexy leading lady. For an Indian actress, it could have been lead role hara-kiri. But Nadia’s sexiness was more natural, less contrived, and certainly not provocative. Again, the mix of action and sport with a non-serious dominatrix angle created an animated ambience. Of course, in the end, there was mostly a switch from hot-pants to Hindustani – sari, bindi et al.

Serious Fun
To me, the key to Nadia’s appeal – style, not fashion – lies in her wicked sense of humour. In life, as in film, there was a certain nonchalance, free from ‘I’m too sexy, pretty, beautiful’ or taking oneself too seriously. Those were the days when many production houses did not have separate costume departments, or stylists. Instead, the actors took care of their own wardrobes. Nadia’s tailor copied selected French or Hollywood styles– according to her instructions – tweaked them to either Indianise or suit the role. Therefore, Nadia’s own fashion sensibilities were certainly reflected in her on-screen personas, and so we can safely credit her for the riot that passed off as fashion in her movies. No fashion critic, in sanity, would ever stamp her as sartorially spectacular.

Yet, the lady’s swashbuckling costumes inspire us to look beyond the numerous faux pas (Hunterwali was just the start, the Tigress costume was the jewel in the crown!) and identify a progressive style, which veers us away from unkind technical scrutiny and instead, seeds admiration for her brave endeavours. It is almost as if Nadia herself would look back, cringe, but then have a laugh over it.

In this age of red carpet photos, professional stylists, internet inspirations and designer accessibility, it is hard to distinguish an individual essence from paid-for, guided style (not that we do not appreciate the hard work). There are many who would make it to a best dressed list, clad head to toe in classic couture; but homogeneity – however aesthetic – gets boring after a point. Which is why certain individuals stand out for their distinctive takes on style. Therefore, I would not be surprised if Nadia’s unafraid experiments make her a potentially compelling fashion muse. So I relax my raised eyebrow, smile and say, “Hats off!”

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