The Western male rapper's relationship with a certain kind of clothing—unstructured, overdrawn, oversized, ethno-nomad, urban-rebel, goth-inspired, noir, mixing loose long shorts with ankle tights, metal accessories with hoods, reversed caps with tattoos and slogan T-shirts—is one of the most compelling aspects of subcultures in contemporary fashion. And the sneakers! They walk the talk in hip hop—punk pink pairs, patent tie-ups with stickers, knee high whites with logos, multi-coloured, geeky, gawky or goofy.
The Indian rapper however—think Badshah, the Punjabi rapper as he likes to call himself—is a colourful version of the angsty, angry American hip-hop star. In tune, mood, lyrics as in dress. If one is brooding and dark, the other is scorching sunlight. Badshah, well, is a peacock like few are—brands (emblazoned even on the soles of his shoes), cars, opulent watches, gold chains, dramatic sunglasses, gaudy jackets and T-shirts—his war cry is of muchness.
That muchness, that extremity of styling, the layering of fashion and styling tools, clothes, hair and makeup so pervasive in Singh's promotional appearances is absent in his styling in the title role of Gully Boy. Ditto in the characterisation of his friend MC Sher—played by newcomer Siddhant Chaturvedi. Sher has a chest full of sneakers stacked along his music CDs that he locks and cherishes. A loveable glint into the secret vanity of a sensible, supremely talented young man. Murad's vanities too are never worn on the sleeve—not once does he displace his purposefulness for a shoe or a sweat shirt. His competitors do though, showing too much, feeling too little—they wear oversized clothes, gold-brass hair, bracelets and badass vibes.
These deliberate understatements, that hinge largely on a few black T-shirts, a hoodie or two, an Adidas jacket and track pants thrown in somewhere on the hero minus look-at-me flamboyance so typically reminiscent of wannabe rappers is a great storytelling device. Full marks to Arjun Bhasin and Poornamrita Singh for the costumes and styling. It keeps the attention on Gully Boy and MC Sher—on their anger and ambition. On irony as idiom in loss, love and music.
So when a box of genuine, branded Adidas shoes is thrown open up for Singh's able and prancing feet once he wins the defining competition that makes him India's top rap star, and his staid office shirt and trousers peeled off for a rough-tough rapper hoodie, you want to stand up and applaud. He deserves those shoes man, he walked, danced, sang and slogged for them.
Inka time aa gaya—there is always a time to shed the fakes for the originals.
