Hey guys, I hope you all like my new outfit. I feel so pretty and feminine when I wear it, take care of each other, luv Jess 💕

Black is King: Africa Beyoncéfied

I really enjoy watching old music videos on YouTube. It reminds me of simpler times: before CGI, insanely big budgets and, well, YouTube.

​Lately, I’ve been tripping on Kate Bush. Wuthering Heights sees her as a cosmic, cherubic teenager wafting alone in a field. In Army Dreamers she’s running through a forest with a  blonde kid, stopping only to mesmerise with her phantasmal, milky eyes. In Breathing she’s stuck in a Zorb until freed to join some green-faced virologists in a lagoon.

Those are all delightful, but my favourite has to be Babooshka. Shrouded in a black veil, she cavorts, improvised and imperfect, with a double-bass; like a mime artist bride's first dance at an enchanted wedding reception. Then, the chorus kicks in. Wailing, she transforms into a steampunk warrior temptress, back-lit by a heavenly white glow; her hips uttering truths even Shakira’s could never profess to know. There is one camera, one room, one performer, two outfits, and one special effect – zoom. It’s lo-def, simple, cheap, and in its way, purely spectacular.

Fast-forward almost exactly forty years and, NOW STREAMING ON DISNEY+, Beyoncé releases Black is King – an ostentatious, opulent, enormous, 85-minute antithesis to the austerity of Babooska. In keeping with BEYONCÉ and Lemonade, it’s a “visual album” to accompany her (I suppose we need to call it now) “audio album” – The Lion King: The Gift. Both are inspired by last year’s CGI-update of the classic 1994 animation, following a similar storyline.

The film opens onto an “African” river. A wicker basket floats downstream, interspersed with shots of colourfully clad “Africans” in a variety of settings. James Earl Jones resonantly reiterates that “we are all connected in the great circle of life”. Under a pastel sunset, Beyoncé materialises on a beach in a flowing, white mille-feuille dress, holding a baby. There is spoken-word poetry, earnestness, shots of her daughter, a man painted blue. A group baptism ensues. Church organs sound. “You’re part of something way bigger”, she exclaims as she paints the face of a pre-pubescent boy.

The imagery steeply escalates, every colour luminescent and outfits increasingly innumerable. Beyoncé in horse-print… on a horse. Beyoncé in a painting… as Mother Mary. Beyoncé in water, dripping with red rope. It turns out we’ve been in heaven. Or space. Or somewhere beyond both - blacker and more kingly. The boy takes off, becomes a comet, hurtling towards earth. Is this in 4K? 8K? 16K?  Did they shoot it in Bey, not K? Whatever the definition, it is high. Babooshka, it is not. ​ This is irrepressible Beyoncé, lofty Beyoncé; the terrestrial goddess, progenitor of pop. To make the film, Queen Bey – who also wrote, directed and produced – drafted in a wealth First off, a word about Beyoncé’s “Africa”. It is relentlessly proud and picturesque in a way perhaps no other film about “Africa” has ever been. It is cool, hot, sensual, and sincere. It is appealingly traditional yet ambitiously modern. It’s Africa filtered first through the American kaleidoscope, then again through a diamond encrusted Beyoncéscope.

But as my Ghanaian mother relentlessly reminded people, Africa is not a country. It is the second largest continent on earth. It is not at all a singular culture. To chop up a kilo of its prettiest bits and squish them all into one tasty, palatable burger would be horribly reductive. One can fairly assume that patty-fying Africa is not Beyoncé’s intention, but if Black is King’s aim is not to represent a real-life place, what is it intended to do? In Beyoncé’s own words from a June 29 Instagram post:

I wanted to present elements of Black history and African tradition, with a modern twist and a universal message, and what it truly means to find your self-identity and build a legacy.

So it’s an idealised agglomeration of cultural concepts in service of Beyoncé’s ideas about her true heritage, and by association, those of anyone that identifies as black. ​Pastiche-ifying Africa. Fair enough.

But as I watch, innumerable questions arise, thudding inside my skull to the rhythm of jovial afrobeats: Where is the line between race and culture? Where does glorifying one’s ancestry end and appropriating a foreign culture begin? What legitimate connection does a billionaire American musician have to the African continent (where she has rarely visited and even more rarely performed)? Does being a dark-skinned American, 10-15 generations removed from your African ancestors, deliver a free pass to portray a place of 1.3 billion people you have barely been to?

What if Beyoncé was white, but born and raised in Ethiopia, and she made this same film? Is Beyoncé, in fact, the best – or only – person to show a positive version of modern “Africa” to a global audience? Is she creating a falsely romanticised version of heritage for Black Americans or a necessary interpretation of the continent they have a natural, genetic attachment to? Is animal print and people in trees cool or offensive? Is it cool or offensive to present all black people as the descendants of Kings and Queens? Is Disney+ available anywhere in Africa and will it ever be?

Is this just a pop music video, geared towards Beyoncé and Jay-Z adding to their billion-dollar empire? Or is it a deeply meaningful, glamorous exposition of what it means to be black, whether diasporic or native to Africa? Is Black, in fact, King?

I can’t answer most of these questions because I could argue both sides ‘til the Beys come home. Black is King is simultaneously superfluous and necessary; respectful and insulting; clever and vapid. It’s completely absurd, and completely logical. Part of me is appalled, but the majority, absorbed; addicted.

​I can’t look away. It’s the Beyoncé Paradox.

Many of these contentions arise because Beyoncé is so often front and centre; royally, religiously presented. In fact, the scenes without her – those dominated by West and South African rappers, singers, and nameless dancers – offer the most exhilarating, authentic, and refreshing moments. Had she chosen to purely direct rather than star, or stayed a little more in the background, her broader message may have been elevated. Instead, with her plumb in the middle, Africa is necessarily re-invented in Beyoncé’s image; moulded to fit the Beyoncé narrative - not that of the global Black diaspora, “Africans”, or nationals of its 50+ territories, hosting 2000+ languages. In this world, Beyoncé is King, albeit a benevolent one that invites her African subjects to participate in amplifying her personal glorification, ancestral identification and iconographic myth-building.

This is the artist’s prerogative, but ultimately, attributing deeper meaning to the film than it being a fundamentally superficial exercise in branding Beyoncé as Disney’s African Queen feels pretentious. Arguable, but pretentious.

That said, just as a joke is only offensive if it is insufficiently funny, when something is as beautiful, stimulating, and cool as this, does anything else matter? If people are happy to pay $7 a month and find some fantastical personal solace in it, what harm does it do? In the end, it’s a big, sexy, pop music video. Entertainment. Treated predominantly thus, it is, in its way, purely spectacular.  So watch it. While Lemonade had far deeper meaning because of her proximity to the subject matter, Black is King is still Beyoncé’s most stunning video to date. Its form and existence raise challenging questions about race, heritage, culture and society, but in the end, the sheer scale and sumptuous visual onslaught will inevitably win out. Streaming now on Disney+.* (*Not available in Africa)

Black is King Trailer

Babooshka

Jet Wolf Summarizes Act 39

The manga and I kind of hate each other. This is unfortunate, but still, I’m determined to come out of this with something. Rather than spend energy on a liveblog that’s increasingly negative, I’m reading each manga act (mostly) silently, and then writing up summaries at the end. I won’t pull my punches. There’s going to be criticism and snark about the manga, either wholesale or in details. If that isn’t a thing you feel like reading, please skip this post!

On the one hand, when I started this act today, I thought I was still in the Infinity Arc, which was bound and determined to live up to its name. I was not! I am even closer to the conclusion of the manga than I realized!

On the other hand, I’m in the Pegasus arc.

Dear god help me, I’m in the Pegasus arc.

We open with the Inners, but don’t get excited, this will be the last time you’ll see them for the next hundred pages. They’re gathered together at a park to watch the eclipse. Where’s Usagi, you ask? At another park somewhere else with Mamoru and Chibi-Usa, because if they were there, we might feel for a second that Mamoru was not the center of the universe, and can’t possibly risk it. CAN’T MINGLE WITH THE HELP YOU KNOW.

That little girl I posted earlier wishes to become an actress, and Minako whirls around, Kill Bill sirens blaring. "My dream is to become an idol!” she says to her friends for what is almost certainly the tenth time that hour. However this prompts the others to say their dreams (PS: THIS IS THE DREAM ARC) and they are every bit as obvious and lacking in character development as you’ve come to expect.

“I want to be a bride!” Mako says as I cry inside. "And then maybe have a flower shop or cake shop, but mostly bride!”

“I wish to become an elegant doctor!” Ami does not care that I am crying harder. Not brilliant. Not genius. Not lifesaving. ELEGANT. AMI MIZUNO’S PREFERRED ADJECTIVE IS ELEGANT AND I AM ON PAGE TWO OF THIS ACT

As for Rei?

While you will pry International Success Life Rei Hino from me absolutely never because my grip will only become stronger in death, fair enough, but for fuck’s sake, AMI ALREADY SAID ELEGANT REI I REFUSE TO BELIEVE YOUR EGO WOULDN’T DEMAND ANOTHER DESCRIPTOR.

Meanwhile, at No Senshi Allowed Park, Mamoru doubles over with chest pains. FINALLY SOMEONE HAD THE CORRECT DREAM. Unfortunately it passes quickly, just in time for the Dead Moon Circus to arrive on their fucking giant flying stingray shark pirate ship what the fuck??

THINGS ONLY GET MORE HORRIFYING

Of course if one thing is going to be consistent for me from the anime to the manga, it’d be how much the Dead Moon Circus creeps me the fuck out. OF COURSE THAT.

The Circus disappears then, and I’ll give the manga credit where it’s due here, it doesn’t have thirty fucking installments of no one seeing the bloody ten block giant floating circus tent.

Back to Peon Park, the Senshi also saw the circus arrive, and this apparently freaked Phobos and Deimos out so badly they had to to fly to Rei on her day off and bring her a newspaper and some feathers AND A FUCKING TAROT CARD ARE YOU KIDDING ME THESE GUYS NOT ONLY FOUND REI’S TAROT DECK BUT SORTED THROUGH THE CARDS TO FIND THE EXACT ONE TO BEST COMMUNICATE THEIR MEANING MEANWHILE I CAN’T GET MINA TO BRING ME THE GODDAMN BALL WHEN SHE WANTS ME TO THROW IT

Armed with this information, Rei, my beloved, light of my life, favourite character for over twenty years, concludes

Really, Rei. Really.

The Senshi rush to Usagi, though not one of them wonders why they bother, and that’s the real tragedy in this.

At the other, better park, for characters the author actually cares about, Mamoru thinks traffic will be bad getting home and suggests they wander around the shopping district instead. Hey look, there’s a sale on! This doesn’t seem strange at all!

Nobody thinks to mention the timing of this sale or arrival of an imminent circus alongside THE FLYING SHARK PIRATE CIRCUS SHIP, so maybe I was too quick with my credit-giving a minute ago. They wander around the stalls and shops, until something catches Usagi and Chibs’ eyes.

HMM I WONDER IF THESE WILL BECOME IMPORTANT

They convince Mamoru to buy them at $100 for the pair, which breaks down, in overall kaleidoscopic entertainment value, to about $100 a minute. As Usagi and Chibs rapidly burn through that minute, the Senshi show up, relieved to find everyone okay. “Should we join them?” Ami asks. “God no,” replies Minako, dragging everyone off to do jello shots for the rest of the issue.

God knows how many hours later, it’s 5pm and everything’s still just as packed as it was this morning, making Mamoru’s whole thing about having trouble getting home particularly dense because everyone’s fucking HERE and not on the road. But everything’s about to get a thousand times stupider.

Usagi says that it’s getting late and maybe Chibi-Usa shouldn’t go home until tomorrow. I was busy trying to puzzle out what that meant, like sleep-over in the park? No, no, she means home to the future, to which Mamoru says:

IT’S A THOUSAND YEARS IN THE FUTURE MAMORU THE DAY YOU’RE ON IN 1995 IS COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT TO THE 30TH FUCKING CENTURY WHAT SENSE DOES THIS EVEN MAKE

AND THEN CHIBS JUST MUDDIES IT EVEN FURTHER

HOW DOES

WHAT DOES THAT MATTER WHAT SENSE DOES ANY OF THIS MAKE THIS IS SO NONSENSICAL AND I’M LEGIT IRRITATED ABOUT IT

And then it’s Usagi’s turn to just make shit up as she goes.

SHE WON’T BE LATE IT’LL BE THE SAME FUCKING DAY BECAUSE IT’S A THOUSAND YEARS IN THE FUTURE AND THAT IS INDEPENDENT OF WHAT DAY IT IS IN THE PRESENT TIME IS NOT LINEAR FOR YOU PEOPLE AND YOU KNOW THAT BECAUSE YOU ARE HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH YOUR DAUGHTER FROM THE FUTURE

And I can’t even see why there’s all this bending over backwards trying to explain any of this away when plot coherency is something Takeuchi wrestles with on a daily basis about as much as she does character development.

SPEAKING OF

Cut to Mamoru’s apartment. Chibs is getting ready for bed.

Recognize the mirror?

JUST AS WELL BECAUSE THE MANGA COULDN’T CARE LESS IF YOU DO OR DON’T

FOUR TAGS WITH SQUIGGLY LABELS FOR MAMORU’S SHIT

THE PJS OF WHICH WILL BE MENTIONED IN-TEXT AT LEAST ONCE MORE IN THIS SCENE

FUCK ALL FOR MICHIRU

IT MANAGED TO BE EVEN WORSE THAN “MICHIRU WAS ALSO THERE” BECAUSE YOU CAN’T EVEN KNOW MICHIRU IS ALSO THERE UNLESS YOU ALREADY KNOW IT

WE DIDN’T THINK IT WAS POSSIBLE TO BE MORE DISMISSIVE OF MICHIRU BUT THE MANGA FOUND A WAY

Meanwhile Usagi is lying to Ikuko about sleeping over at Mako’s, and I’d like to think Usagi cleared that with Mako first, but that would’ve required thinking about her, and there’s just no way. The next three hundred pages are basically Mamoru and Chibi-Usa and I’d summarize what happened but I’ve punished myself enough today, and also NOTHING HAPPENED.

Over to the Dark Moon Circus, where we don’t begin with the Trio but with the Quartet.

Not that I expect anyone to have any personality. And just as well! Here’s a sample.

PALLAPALLA HATES BORING INTERCHANGEABLE DIALOGUE

Chibi-Usa has finally fallen sleep. I know what this means. I feel my mind, my soul, my very sense of self trying to shrink away, but to no avail. It comes.

AAAAHHHH

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

For relief, please join me in imagining for a moment a Sailor Moon SuperS revival featuring, as Pegasus, BoJack Horseman.

Pegasus and Chibs fly over Tokyo and then he gives her a little bell so she can summon him whenever she wants. In return?

CHIBI-USA TSUKINO I KNOW YOU READ A LOT DO NOT TELL ME THAT YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THIS IN ENOUGH STORIES AND FAIRY TALES TO WANT TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS IMMEDIATELY YOU ARE SMARTER THAN THAT YOUNG LADY THIS IS HANSEL AND GRETEL WITH WINGS

The next morning, Usagi and Mamoru wake up and realize they were both dreaming about Chibi-Usa and her new horse friend. Nothing about this alarms them anywhere near the correct degree in this humble Jet Wolf’s opinion. Mamoru has another partial heart attack but again does not die because I never get what I want. They realize Chibs left without them, and if I were Chibs, I’d do the same.

In the park (probably The Creator Loves Us And Only Us National Park), Chibs digs in her pockets for her Time Key, and I know Chibi-Usa is concerned about wanting to be an adult and all, but she has literally never been more hashtag relatable.

She pulls it out, but also pulls out the bell. GASP IT’S REAL. She thinks about Pegasus and how creepy he is and how she should never talk to him again and then she shatters the bell on the pavement. IF ONLY. She also thinks about her mother, specifically how she said “Leave and don’t come back until you’re pretty and useful.” YOU THINK I’M KIDDING I AM NOT KIDDING

Chibs’ first action as queen? ABOLISH MOTHER’S DAY

She wonders if she’s okay to go home yet, but when she uses the Time Key, it rejects the shit out of her, so guess not. Mamoru and Usagi run up and Pegasus appears again for no particular reason that I can figure out. Then there’s a tiger attack (NO REALLY) and everyone runs off, except for Mamoru, who once again is taunting me with his imminent death that never comes.

Usagi and Chibs try to transform, but can’t, because they don’t have all the Senshi around to power them up. “God, what a stupid requirement anyway, like I ever see those guys,” says Usagi, and so she just makes a new transformation happen because that is a thing she can do.

The Quartet are behind this attack, and Usagi and Chibs try to fight them, but are apparently powerless without a new toy from Bandai, so it’s marketing to the rescue! Chibs calls for Pegasus and begs him for a new weapon. He complies!

AND I FUCKING SCREAMED. While Usagi and Chibs power up on their own -- which I actually thought was a better turn from the anime for a second -- all it functionally did was change their outfits. They don’t even try to fight or attack, I presume because they know they can’t, so while they look neat, they’re powerless and helpless until they beg Pegasus for help. Until Pegasus arrives to give them power.

Power that came to them BY WAY OF MAMORU ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW

So one of my biggest sources of anger and frustration with SuperS? ACTUALLY IMPROVED ON THE MANGA.

Also the Moon Gorgeous Sex Toy is sentient and can talk so. Yeah.

Back at the Dead Moon Circus, Zircon is all “The people of the White Moon reincarnated, god I fucking hate that,” so the Quartet respond by turning their tiger, hawk, and fish into, you guessed it.

They also see Chibs and Usagi and wonder what their dreams are.

APPARENTLY THE ANSWER IS ONE OF THE WORST EPISODES OF THE WORST SEASON OF THE ANIME JESUS WEPT WHEN WILL I KNOW REST

You 2.8: “Fear and Loathing in Beverly Hills” – And Hunter Wept

I’m obsessed with this show and I am definitely going to keep watching, but COME ON. As a Passions fan, I’m truly down for anything – a monkey who’s a nurse, a witch who controls a town through a caldron, simultaneous pregnancies that are not twins, an evil doll that comes to life – select any flavor of soap opera madness and I will shovel it into my gaping TV-holes as long as it adheres to the tone of the show. But a drug episode? Really? This is tonal chaos. Anyway, we pick up right where we left off, with Delilah trapped in a glass case of emotional torture. David Fincher calls again and when Delilah lies in order to gain Joe’s trust, she says they’ll go on a date soon, a lie that cuts deep. Joe does indeed act as though he’s going to free her – he purchases plane tickets, says his goodbyes, and sets up Delilah in time-release handcuffs (which are real, because fetish people) so she can let herself out after he’s on a plane. And then we hit the first in a series of clichés – he sets a timer for sixteen hours so he is literally fighting against the clock. It’s a little much, and it telegraphs the idea that he’s going to fail.

Love is looking crazy-eyed in her lemon palace, and her team of enabling friends give her permission to do what she really wants, which is obviously to get Joe back. Dottie, egged on by her shaman, makes an unexpected appearance, and the two share a dysfunctional dinner. Love brings up the au pair, and Dottie hisses that she “did what she had to do.” Was Dottie involved in the murder, or just the cover-up? Love drunkenly storms out. When Love can’t handle her liquor, Dottie swoops in to take advantage of this moment of vulnerability.

We hit the second cliché when Forty and Joe are kidnapped. It felt so out of the blue that it totally took me out of the story. In fact, Joe even says that if this were a movie, he wouldn’t believe it. Things feel a little more planted in the world of the story once it becomes clear that Forty had planned it. Forty needs Joe’s help writing his screenplay and they will remain hotel room hostages of gun-toting Russians until they finish. I guess Joe is getting a taste of his own medicine, which hearkens back the first episode’s promise of karmic retribution. Forty’s back on the ‘booch, but this time he’s mixing it with Dexedrine. Not a great sign, because last time he was drinking kombucha he went hog-wild at Hendy’s. He spirals very quickly after Ellie’s honest notes and he jumps out the window into a dumpster, then absconds to a bar. Joe is obligated to follow him, and the clock keeps ticking. Joe finds Forty seated behind a sea of empty shot glasses, swimming in the blues. Apparently Forty is still texting Candace, which would lead a normal viewer to believe that she is alive and well. Lucky for you, I don’t trust anything or anyone, so I feel certain that Love is necro-texting from Candace’s phone. Fueled by tequila, Forty throws a drunken grenade into a nearby couple’s wedding reception by reenacting a watered-down Indecent Proposal – he kisses the bride in exchange for ten grand in cash. At his wits end, Joe attempts to leave the bar with or without Forty, but Forty grabs his arm and pens “8:52” in Sharpie. You see, that’s the time Joe started drinking the seltzer Forty dosed with four hits of acid. There it is, the third cliché. Literally anything is plausible now, which feels very, very cheap. Poor Joe has never taken LSD before, so he is about to have his ass handed to him. He is, to say the least, displeased. But then he bumps into Love – she “put two and two together,” aka stalked him or had him followed, and chose to have dinner in the same hotel where Joe and Forty were writing – when he starts tripping HARD.

Joe’s trip is a kaleidoscope of flashbacks about his childhood and imagined conversations with his mother. She provokes him, coddling his worst impulses. Forty uses the trip to get inside Beck’s head, which sends Joe spiraling. Forty narrowly escapes being choked to death by kneeing Joe in the balls during a roleplay gone wrong. Joe is freaking the fuck out, and rightfully so. Four hits of acid is a stupidly high dose for anyone, let alone a newbie. Forty allows him to use the safe word (I don’t know if this is a cliché, but it’s a really crazy plot coupon) to get moon juice (is this some LA thing I don’t know about, or is it a fictional Anavrin thing?) and snacks. Forty can’t come, because he’s conveniently peaking. Joe blacks out and finds himself standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom. Did he ever leave? There’s blood on his hands. He washes them, then all the blood disappears. Was it ever there? When he returns to the living room, Forty’s drinking moon juice among a gaggle of grocery bags. He confirms that Joe definitely left and brought this stuff back, but he doesn’t know how he got there or how long he was gone. Weird, since it seems like Joe would not go back to that room on his own. Dmitri (Adi Spektor), the Russian bodyguard, affirms that Joe came back with clean hands. Joe hears Love’s ringtone in Dmitri’s pocket, and he freaks out until Forty bribes Dmitri with cash for the phone. This phone call is a fishy dish. Love claims they can figure out whatever he’s running from together. Why does she know he’s running from something? Running implies guilt. After what Candace told her, why wouldn’t she want to stay far, far away? Joe says the magic words that Milo never would have said – they can take Forty with them on their escape tour. Maybe this is something James never would have agreed to? After another mommy-induced blood cry, Joe seeks solace in Forty, who has actually cracked his story. The beat board is organized and ready to go. The key was in figuring out who the real killer is, and it’s not Dr. Nicky. According to Forty, it can only be Beck’s unnamed ex-boyfriend, because he’s the one who truly loved her. Just as Joe is about to slash Forty’s throat, Forty reveals that he can empathize. His au pair didn’t kill herself – Forty killed her in a jealous rage. He claims to have blacked out, then awakened to see himself standing over her corpse. Their parents made it look like a suicide. So, Love’s weirdness around that story could have been the simple fact of lying about it. But the detail of Forty blacking out has me doubting… Maybe he didn’t kill her. But maybe he did. We’ll see. Either way, Joe is immensely comforted by this story and in turn, he comforts Forty. The two seem solidly bonded by this experience.

The next morning, Forty is MIA. Joe has exactly one hour and twenty minutes to resolve his situation with Delilah. The plan is to negotiate with Delilah so he can live happily ever after with Love. He makes it to the storage unit with seconds to spare. There’s just one problem – Delilah’s dead. Did Joe kill her? I mean, it would make sense. He’s the only one who knows where she is. Except she’s lying in an ocean of blood, and his clothes are totally clean. There is no way someone who is peaking on four hits of acid could have gotten it together to murder someone, then either change into an identical outfit or wash the one he had on. Not possible. And that both Forty and Joe killed someone in a blackout is weird – I’m willing to bet that either it’s true in both cases or false in both cases. But if Love’s detective has been following Joe this whole time, as I suspect, a garden of possibilities blooms. See You next time!  

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Must Have Indian Sarees for Saree Enthusiasts

From ancient times, Indian saree has been worn by women across the country. This Indian garment is one of the oldest traditional attires that is still prominent staple wear in many regions. For many women, this is more than just a piece of cloth. For some, it’s a treasured trousseau and for others its mother’s heirloom for keepsakes. Over the years, Indian sarees, as an outfit has been much explored and experimented with. It has undergone massive transformation to suit the needs of modern women and their lifestyle. But there is something divine about the traditional Indian saris from different parts of the country. A typical south Indian saree, a Bengali saree or even a Marathi saree, all these are about sartorial elegance and make a woman look like a regal queen. Top Indian Sarees - 10 Beautiful Variations Each saree has it’s distinctively beautiful and it will never disappoint a woman. If you are a saree enthusiast, there are few traditional sarees that you must have in your wardrobe. Kanjeevaram: The Kanjeevaram silk sarees hail from Kanchipuram region of Tamil Nadu. These sarees are often referred to as the Queen of Indian sarees. However, it is usually a favorite of every Indian bride and a part of her trousseau. It is expensive and one of the most luxurious ethnic sarees available in the country. The silk is lustrous and soft and finished with gold zari work. Its price depends on the quantity of gold used in the saree and the purest form is pretty pricey. Banarasi: Another cult favorite of Indian brides is Banarasi saree from Varanasi. These sarees are the finest handwoven silk sarees and are popular for use of gold and silver brocade. It is opulently designed and is lavishly done up. It is a part of not only the bridal trousseau but a staple wear for auspicious occasions. Bright colors and intricate intertwined floral and ethnic motifs are its distinctive feature. Apart from silk, these banarasi sarees are also created on fabrics like georgette. These sarees have a mystical sheen and lustrous texture that make it irresistible to women. Banarasi sarees, too, are expensive. Bandhani: Banadhani sarees are a pride of Gujrat. A typical Bandhani is a blend of beautiful colors and patterns created by a special tie and dye technique. These sarees are light in weight yet high on appeal. They are created on soft fabrics like chiffon and are perfect for summer wear. Nowadays, cheaper variants of the saree are being created on georgette and blended cotton. The perfect occasion to flaunt your bandhani saree is Navratri. Chanderi Silk Saree: Chanderi sarees are traditional Indian saree originating from Madhya Pradesh. These are usually produced from three different kinds of fabric, including Chanderi cotton, silk cotton, and pure silk. These sarees are known for it’s plush embroidered patterns and fine zari work. Lightweight fabric and intricate borders are its distinctive features. Due to its light fabric, many women prefer wearing these sarees in peak summers. Ethnic, geometrical, paisley, and peacock are some of its usual designs. You can purchase Indian sarees online on Lashkara.com. Mysore silk: Dating back to 1500-1600 AC, Mysore silk sarees have been prevalent in Indian cultural wear. The royals of Mysore were dressed in Mysore silk and today women with classy taste love to adorn it. It is usually finished with zari work. However, when compared to other silk sarees, this thread work is minimal and gives the saree a very suave yet elegant appeal. Paithani: Paithani sarees belong to the Aurangabad region of Maharashtra. These sarees are woven by hands and are made out of finest silks. It is one of the richest and purest forms of silk sarees in India. One can distinguish a Paithani saree from other traditional silk sarees from its oblique square design on borders and peacock design on the pallu. A real Paithani saree will be a single tone or of a kaleidoscopic design that is created by sewing fabrics of different colors. Maharashtrian women love to wear these sarees on most of their festive occasions as well as weddings. Leheriya: Leheriya sarees from Rajasthan are known for its waves and stripe patterns that is created by tie and dye technique. More of daily wear, these sarees come in vibrant colors and light fabric. They look extremely beautiful in the season of spring and suitable for younger generation. Its unique allure adds a youthful charm and enlivens the wearer’s personality. Jaamdani sarees: Jamdani sarees are produced in Bengal from finest muslin cloth. The art of weaving jamdani was announced as a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Today, this handloom woven cotton fabric is popular for its gorgeous sarees that are through labor-intensive weaving on the finest varieties of muslin. Flower patterns are some of the common patterns. Phulkari: The art of phulkari embroidery originated in Punjab and it used to create exquisite shawls, dupattas, salwar suits, and sarees. The term Phulkari literally translates to “flower work.” Different colors of thread are used to create floral patterns on Indian wear. Phulkari sarees are particularly popular for its feminine appeal and chic designs. These are radiant in color and can add a burst of colors to the wearer’s personality. Chikankari: Chikankari is currently a raging trend in India. Extremely graceful and exquisite, Chikankari sarees are making the rounds. This is the perfect time to purchase and adorn these sarees as it is the latest trend in Indian fashion wear. Subtle hues like pink, icy blue, iris blue, champagne gold, off-white and nude pink are some of the trending colors when it comes to this traditional Lucknawi sarees. These sarees are perfect for anyone with sophisticated taste and want to keep it simply elegant. Apart from these 10 traditional Indian sarees, there is a diverse variety to explore such as Taant, Patola, Sambalpuri, Pochampally, Kalamkari, Ikat, and more. So, which one is your favorite? Let us know in the comment section below. Read the full article

Hey guys, thought I'd put one of my pretty Wedding outfits on to cheer me up. I hope you all like seeing me in it, luv Jess 💕

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