Sulkiness or feminine seduction? When it comes to the Pout, it’s one and the same thing. Or so insists Kanika Gahlaut

A RECENT article in London’s Sunday Times Style supplement asked what, by all sociological accounts, is an important question for students of human behaviour (though you must be warned that if you do not consider models to be a part of the human species, you’d better read no further). The question: why do models on the ramp, or staring out at you from glossy ads in magazines, look like they’ve been slapped in the face?

It’s an intriguing phenomenon, though by no means a new one. Behaviorists describe the pout as ‘pushing the lower lip against the upper in a protruded look of disappointment, displeasure, sadness or uncertainty’. Darwin said that ‘protrusion of the lips, especially with young children, is characteristic of sulkiness throughout the greater part of the world’.

On runways internationally, it seems that the more you stare accusingly at the world as if it conspired to murder your mother, the more glamorous you are. Look at Riya Sen on the latest cover of Elle — you’d think she was a street child deprived of her only roti; look at Joey Matthews or Nina Manuel on the ramp and you get the same feeling; or — and this is if you can bear it — look at Urmila Matondkar in Pyar Tune Kya Kiya. When Van Houff said that ‘the lip pout has been observed as a mood sign on old world monkeys and apes’, is there any possibility that he could, by some strange back-to-the-future machines at his disposal, have been looking at movie clips of our mulgi Matondkar?

Exactly when and why the pout came to signify feminine seduction is not known, but it’s been noticed — and framed for posterity — down the ages. The portrayal of the pout, however, has changed. The classic pout — as seen on Marilyn Monroe or even Madhubala — though sulky, signalled harmlessness and vulnerability. You don’t need Germaine Greer to tell you why that could be construed as attractive to men.

The new pout, on the other hand, is so sulky that it’s alarmingly anti-social. Think the unsuspecting John Abraham in the Pepsodent advertisement (subsequently banned by Sushma Swaraj, clearly not a pout-promoter) kissing a poutingly expressionless Vidisha Pavate on the mouth, only for her to grab him for eternity, and you’ll get the general picture of how aggressive the traditionally ‘submissive’ pout has become.

Of course a lot of it has to do with the fashionable ‘look’ of the moment. Once upon a time in India, models were known to behave like normal people and occasionally even smiled on the ramp. Shyamolie Varma, Anna Bredmeyer, even till Mehr Jessia, using the jaw muscles in a pleasant manner was not unknown. Then came the dark horse Madhu Sapre with her permanent Good-Girls-Don’t-Speak-English (and glare at everybody while they don’t) angst and everything changed. Noyonika Chatterjee’s pout was darker, sometimes almost being used as a substitute for a frown, if possible. And the younger Sapna Kumar looks permanently like she got a good shouting in the green rooms before she was pushed on the runway. Part of it has to do with the changing role of fashion: we’re in the age of S&M inspired-wear by Rina Dhaka: surely nobody can go on the ramp brandishing belts and chains and a cheerful smile; and when Manisha Arora makes you wear make-up that is meant to make you look like you’ve been socked in the eye (like he did with the models at the India Fashion Week last year), you can’t be expected to look like you’re loving it.
It might be innovative, it might even be interesting, it might be the brave new world not afraid to explore its darker side. But sometimes, you find yourself yearning for what is becoming a rare commodity: a smile.