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The Green Room
Epicurean, travel addict, voracious reader, art appreciator, astonishingly talented designer—Wendell Rodricks is a man who wears many hats. From growing up in a ‘glorified Bombay chawl’ crowded with eccentrics, to building homes in Muscat, Istanbul and the French Riviera; from quenching childhood hunger pangs with water, to feasting on the canard au sang at La Tour D’Argent in Paris; from falling in love with the man with whom he would sign a civil union, to putting his ancestral land of Goa firmly on the global fashion map; from being a novice in the hospitality industry, to exhibiting at Pret-a-Porter Salon de Paris and IGEDO, Dusseldorf; from designing clothes for his family, to dressing style icons such as Catherine Deneuve, Meg Ryan, Lisa Ray and Freida Pinto—Wendell’s life has been an extraordinarily rich and exciting one.
Peppered with wry observations and startling insights, The Green Room is not just the story of one man but also of the evolution of the Indian fashion industry over twenty-five years. It is both a deeply personal journey and a window into the enchanting yet fickle world of the rich and the famous, the beautiful and the neurotic, the gossips and the bores.
Candid, irreverent and unfailingly entertaining, this is a memoir of the man who gave India minimalism, resort wear and eco-friendly clothing long before these words became fashionable. It is a sparkling piece of writing that tells the story of a fascinating life lived with unusual courage and flair.
Peppered with wry observations and startling insights, The Green Room is not just the story of one man but also of the evolution of the Indian fashion industry over twenty-five years. It is both a deeply personal journey and a window into the enchanting yet fickle world of the rich and the famous, the beautiful and the neurotic, the gossips and the bores.
Candid, irreverent and unfailingly entertaining, this is a memoir of the man who gave India minimalism, resort wear and eco-friendly clothing long before these words became fashionable. It is a sparkling piece of writing that tells the story of a fascinating life lived with unusual courage and flair.
380 pages, Hardcover
First published August 1, 2012
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
December 29, 2012
Like so many books these days, conceptually, this is great. Wendell Rodricks has led a very interesting and successful life as one of India’s leading fashion designers. And it’s clear just from the introduction that he can write well. This should make for good reading.
The problem, however, lies in the execution: Far too much attention to detail, which after a point makes for extremely repetitive, superficial and predictable reading. This book was a series of name dropping (of models, celebrities, hotels, wine lists, menus and parties, for the most part) interspersed with a few life events here and there. It started out well enough (because as a child, Wendell’s friends weren’t rich socialites or famous celebrities), but got progressively worse thereafter. By the last few pages, you could have interspersed any of the several stories told per page with each other, and it would have made no difference: All of them had the same dull elements in them.
I don’t mean to insinuate that Rodricks has lived a superficial live, not at all. He’s obviously worked hard to get to top of a very competitive field, and I have no brief by him for it. And for the most part, he seems like a nice guy, too. I don’t take objection to his life: Just the way he’s chosen to write about it.
Is it necessary to mention what hotel you were staying at when you were on holiday in Egypt, and what you had for dinner the first night (including the wine)? Or to mention every celebrity you’ve ever worked with or had over to your home? Every collection you’ve ever shown, every controversy?
Why not focus more instead on causes that mattered to you (the parts about his interest in Goa for example, or his love for dogs were usually so engaging, but far too sparse).
For me, this book was rather a waste of time. There was little of substance about the person writing and too much emphasis on events that occurred and the people who attended them. If page 3 interests you, you’ll probably enjoy it. I personally didn’t, at all.
The problem, however, lies in the execution: Far too much attention to detail, which after a point makes for extremely repetitive, superficial and predictable reading. This book was a series of name dropping (of models, celebrities, hotels, wine lists, menus and parties, for the most part) interspersed with a few life events here and there. It started out well enough (because as a child, Wendell’s friends weren’t rich socialites or famous celebrities), but got progressively worse thereafter. By the last few pages, you could have interspersed any of the several stories told per page with each other, and it would have made no difference: All of them had the same dull elements in them.
I don’t mean to insinuate that Rodricks has lived a superficial live, not at all. He’s obviously worked hard to get to top of a very competitive field, and I have no brief by him for it. And for the most part, he seems like a nice guy, too. I don’t take objection to his life: Just the way he’s chosen to write about it.
Is it necessary to mention what hotel you were staying at when you were on holiday in Egypt, and what you had for dinner the first night (including the wine)? Or to mention every celebrity you’ve ever worked with or had over to your home? Every collection you’ve ever shown, every controversy?
Why not focus more instead on causes that mattered to you (the parts about his interest in Goa for example, or his love for dogs were usually so engaging, but far too sparse).
For me, this book was rather a waste of time. There was little of substance about the person writing and too much emphasis on events that occurred and the people who attended them. If page 3 interests you, you’ll probably enjoy it. I personally didn’t, at all.
March 19, 2020
The first book of my Coronacation was Wendell Rodricks' The Green Room. Interestingly, I picked it up in 2015: I had just received my first salary, and Landmark was having an end of season clearance sale, and only being comfortable splurging on books (I have learned hundred more ways since), I picked it up, not knowing if it was fiction or memoir or what. I subsequently followed him on instagram, and exchanged a few words with him on the comments of his posts, but that's about it. Rodricks' passing a few weeks ago somehow felt personal, and I felt the need to finally pick it up, in on last attempt to connect to him.
I imagined The Green Room would either be rich with an insider's scoop of India's fashion scene, or given Rodricks' social-cultural activist image, would contain insight into fashion. It was neither. It was 350 pages of expensive holidays, luxury cruises and "I was earning 2000 rupees a month,but Jerome coughed up the 5 lakhs I needed". While I admire Rodricks for all that he has done for Goan culture (particularly the Kunbi community) and the minimal aesthetic in India, I wonder if any of his success would have been possible without the support of his partner, not so much emotionally as much financially. I base purely on the narrative and descriptions in his memoirs, The Green Room, which is full of clinches, self congratulatory superlatives and constant catelogues and lintanies of name dropping. (Preyfrus)
To the little me, Wendell Rodricks always stood for possibility - a middle class Konkani boy dreaming big and working hard to dismantle stereotypes and achieve greatness. His memoirs seem to stress otherwise - success isn't possible unless you have a partner. Not any kind of partner, but one who can whisk you away for a 60 day cruise around Latin America, if not a ride in his personal boat down the Mandovi if you're blue.
My emotional disappointment aside, the lack of coherence in chapters in jarring. Each paragraph tells a story completely disconnected and disjointed from the previous. It appears Rodricks was an excellent party story teller, except the political correctness and fear of ostracization of the glamour world keeps the narrative sanitized and lacking drive and direction. Amitav Ghosh's "a riveting read" is anything but true.
I imagined The Green Room would either be rich with an insider's scoop of India's fashion scene, or given Rodricks' social-cultural activist image, would contain insight into fashion. It was neither. It was 350 pages of expensive holidays, luxury cruises and "I was earning 2000 rupees a month,but Jerome coughed up the 5 lakhs I needed". While I admire Rodricks for all that he has done for Goan culture (particularly the Kunbi community) and the minimal aesthetic in India, I wonder if any of his success would have been possible without the support of his partner, not so much emotionally as much financially. I base purely on the narrative and descriptions in his memoirs, The Green Room, which is full of clinches, self congratulatory superlatives and constant catelogues and lintanies of name dropping. (Preyfrus)
To the little me, Wendell Rodricks always stood for possibility - a middle class Konkani boy dreaming big and working hard to dismantle stereotypes and achieve greatness. His memoirs seem to stress otherwise - success isn't possible unless you have a partner. Not any kind of partner, but one who can whisk you away for a 60 day cruise around Latin America, if not a ride in his personal boat down the Mandovi if you're blue.
My emotional disappointment aside, the lack of coherence in chapters in jarring. Each paragraph tells a story completely disconnected and disjointed from the previous. It appears Rodricks was an excellent party story teller, except the political correctness and fear of ostracization of the glamour world keeps the narrative sanitized and lacking drive and direction. Amitav Ghosh's "a riveting read" is anything but true.
December 24, 2021
Why did I take almost a month to finish a 300 page book as an avid reader? Well, that’s why I give this book 2 stars.
The book is long for no reason. I admire Wendell and his humble beginnings, his skill and talent that made him who he was. However this book could have focused on that rather than who he met, who he partied with and where he travelled.
Instead of writing this book he could’ve wrote a travelogue and it would have been more impressive. I felt like reading a celebrity’s diary and after a point it was difficult to finish the book.
The book is long for no reason. I admire Wendell and his humble beginnings, his skill and talent that made him who he was. However this book could have focused on that rather than who he met, who he partied with and where he travelled.
Instead of writing this book he could’ve wrote a travelogue and it would have been more impressive. I felt like reading a celebrity’s diary and after a point it was difficult to finish the book.
November 5, 2012
Wendell Rodricks’ “The Green Room” (2012) is a surprisingly well-written, candid and gritty memoir. As a gay man in homophobic India, with consensual intercourse between adults not conforming to the penovaginal staple being punishable by law until recent reforms, he stands an exemplar of what cunning, silence and a well financed itinerary can do for non-conformists, even more so for the quickly ascendant nouveau rich set in the industrial complex of glamour. It is a testament to the branding power of lucre, capable as it is of making minorities the fulcrum of its most vaunted and feted strongholds: the business of fashion.
Being appreciative of his cut in matters sartorial I was still sceptical of the cut of his prose, yet, this here work has allayed my prejudice against the gilt-set potentates of fashion and H/Bollywood, at least until such a time as their inept memoirs are published to contrived fanfare. Having said that, the memoir in question is beset with punctuation related and lexical errata, convincing me strongly that Wendell’s hand may have yet held to the keyboard through the introspective roiling that is autobiography; my pet peeves being the numerous blundering periods, which continue on despite their fatal obstinacy in between a running sentence; there are also a small number of grammatical stillbirths prepped up on otherwise impressive paragraphs.
Wendell’s tastes in food and wine are laboriously diverse, and refined, in a ménage of cacophonous European indulgences and Goan fare; his eye as a traveler is set on historical currents, local cultures and his aesthetic is informed by a penchant for leisurely cultivated synesthesia, by which he seems to translate the geographical, the topographical, into clothes/ money periodically in his dreamt on vacation collections. All in all, the memoirs are a satisfying read, breezy as sheer net and sharp like Wendell’s cubist ensembles.
Being appreciative of his cut in matters sartorial I was still sceptical of the cut of his prose, yet, this here work has allayed my prejudice against the gilt-set potentates of fashion and H/Bollywood, at least until such a time as their inept memoirs are published to contrived fanfare. Having said that, the memoir in question is beset with punctuation related and lexical errata, convincing me strongly that Wendell’s hand may have yet held to the keyboard through the introspective roiling that is autobiography; my pet peeves being the numerous blundering periods, which continue on despite their fatal obstinacy in between a running sentence; there are also a small number of grammatical stillbirths prepped up on otherwise impressive paragraphs.
Wendell’s tastes in food and wine are laboriously diverse, and refined, in a ménage of cacophonous European indulgences and Goan fare; his eye as a traveler is set on historical currents, local cultures and his aesthetic is informed by a penchant for leisurely cultivated synesthesia, by which he seems to translate the geographical, the topographical, into clothes/ money periodically in his dreamt on vacation collections. All in all, the memoirs are a satisfying read, breezy as sheer net and sharp like Wendell’s cubist ensembles.
December 19, 2012
Designer Wendell Rodricks part memoir part travelogue recounts the good ol’ days both of his life and the fashion industry.
In all probabilities Wendell Rodricks is a storyteller. If he is not creating the Goan landscape through his clothes, he is telling someone the tale of what made his present collection. Rodricks The Green Room promises stories and much more. An insight into the world of fashion, the sanctum sanctorum of all models the green room, interspersed with Seamlessly-woven stories from the designer’s own upbringing greet you.
Born in 1960 and brought up in Bombay, Wendell’s first brush with fashion came adding buffet frills and skirting to tables as a young graduate during a summer training at Mumbai’s Taj Mahal Hotel. His parents were much opposed to his taking up hotel management as a profession, but he stuck to his guns but not for long. At the beginning he tells us that it was the then former Miss India Universe and now actor Lara Dutta’s compliment that made him come up with this book.
Most of the book tells the story of one man, his journey from the Terrace Building chawl to his job in Muscat and how he made it to Colvale. Quite an inquisitive man, his quest for learning and travelling did wonders for him.
The anecdotes, the little tales of interest all work their charm like a well-woven blanket. A chance encounter with one Suzie Stapleton, an American lady who later turned out to be a spy, is what brought him head to head with fashion and another person whom Rodricks is not shy of mentioning is his life partner Jerome Marrell, the man with whom he would sign a civil union in 2002. However, what saddens me a bit is that there is a lot left unsaid. The murky underbelly of these worlds is left untouched. Seems like he is avoiding controversy like a plague. But those who have a love for fashion without the nitty- gritty will definitely like to lay their hands on this book.
In all probabilities Wendell Rodricks is a storyteller. If he is not creating the Goan landscape through his clothes, he is telling someone the tale of what made his present collection. Rodricks The Green Room promises stories and much more. An insight into the world of fashion, the sanctum sanctorum of all models the green room, interspersed with Seamlessly-woven stories from the designer’s own upbringing greet you.
Born in 1960 and brought up in Bombay, Wendell’s first brush with fashion came adding buffet frills and skirting to tables as a young graduate during a summer training at Mumbai’s Taj Mahal Hotel. His parents were much opposed to his taking up hotel management as a profession, but he stuck to his guns but not for long. At the beginning he tells us that it was the then former Miss India Universe and now actor Lara Dutta’s compliment that made him come up with this book.
Most of the book tells the story of one man, his journey from the Terrace Building chawl to his job in Muscat and how he made it to Colvale. Quite an inquisitive man, his quest for learning and travelling did wonders for him.
The anecdotes, the little tales of interest all work their charm like a well-woven blanket. A chance encounter with one Suzie Stapleton, an American lady who later turned out to be a spy, is what brought him head to head with fashion and another person whom Rodricks is not shy of mentioning is his life partner Jerome Marrell, the man with whom he would sign a civil union in 2002. However, what saddens me a bit is that there is a lot left unsaid. The murky underbelly of these worlds is left untouched. Seems like he is avoiding controversy like a plague. But those who have a love for fashion without the nitty- gritty will definitely like to lay their hands on this book.
August 31, 2016
Rodricks comes across as a Goan first, followed by a fashion designer - http://www.anureviews.com/the-green-r...
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews