Page 176 - Vogue - India (January 2020)

Kurla, Mumbai, where we sit for a six-course meal, Perry
r, in
the
riter
ticked off a meet-and-greet with fans, mingled with Bolly-
wood, glided through interviews with newspapers, television
channels and radio, and wrapped up a meeting with her mu-
sic label—all belying her red-eye flight. From our 12-hour-
long cover shoot that started at the crack of dawn, she head-
ed straight to a charity event marking Prince Charles’s 71st
birthday. “Transcendental meditation,” she shares, is the
secret. “There are so many different forms of meditation I’ve
done, but nothing supersedes TM. It changed my life.”
In 1967, when the Beatles first met Maharishi Mahesh
Yogi, it paved the way for the West’s obsession with the work-
ings of the mind. Now, half a decade later, David Lynch’s
mantra has repackaged the Hindu practice for stressed-out,
modern-day professionals and is calming the rich and famous
the world over. “You’re supposed to do it twice a day, but I
only ever do it once. It’s all about opening your third eye, your
pineal gland, and connecting with the divine. It helps me with
jet lag, anxiety, mood swings and creativity. Some of the
coolest ideas I’ve had were during meditation.”
Few would believe that her 2017 disco-pop confections like
‘Swish swish’ or her innuendo-wrapped ode to oral sex, ‘Bon
appétit’, came out of a spiritual awakening. But move on to
her 2019 discography, and a sense of maturity prevails. As
she runs through a gamut of emotions—from obsession
(‘365’) to heartbreak (‘Never really over’) to post-breakup
(‘Small talk’) to breezy love (‘Harleys in Hawaii’)—she turns
from a bionic woman to a leather-clad biker chick.
SECOND LIFE
It’s not to say that Katy Perry 2.0 is any less fun. She may
no longer be shooting whipped cream off her cone bra, but
she’s comfortable morphing from a chandelier to a cheese-
burger at the Met. On other days, she invades public bath-
rooms with her band for her #pottyjam series. At home, she
is the dedicated stepmum who has found the balance be-
tween the reality and fantasy that pervades her life and
work. “We do a lot with Flynn [Orlando Bloom’s eight-year-
old son]. We go to the movies or to amusement parks…
We’re constantly doing things that are fun,” she says about
this transformation.
At Botticino, the Italian restaurant at Trident, Bandra
176
continues to philosophise about love and life. “I’ve done a lot
of mental, spiritual and emotional work in the past few
years. The biggest lie we’ve ever been told as artistes is that
we have to stay in pain to create. I don’t want to be in emo-
tional pain my whole life in order to write songs,” she tells
me, as she reaches for the bread and cheese platter.
It’s true, Perry’s bubblegum image doesn’t really spell
suffering artiste. “I like to write songs that really move or
empower people. If you divided my songs, they would be 50
per cent [about] empowerment, 25 per cent party and 25 per
cent romantic. They are heavy on hope and positivity, like
going towards the light. I reject the darkness.”
Spend five minutes with her, and you’ll feel her infectious
positivity take hold. She exhibits the curiosity of an endear-
ing interviewee—with me (“I want to know everything about
you”), the server (“‘Anuugacchati Pravaha’, am I saying it
right?” she asks him about her Devanagari tattoo) or the
companion goldfish placed on our table (“Hi Roberto, how
are you feeling?” she pouts). It’s the same energy that makes
a bored five-year-old, carelessly zipping past tables at Botti-
cino, freeze with delight as Perry winks at him. Then there
are the schoolchildren, almost the same age as Flynn,
dressed as mini-KatyCats at our shoot.
THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT
Any parent will attest that handling a group of children—
much less those costumed as elaborate cupcakes and French
fries in Mumbai’s sweltering humidity—is daunting. Natu-
rally, by the time the shot is ready, the children are restless.
Cue Katy Perry, and the kids are all right. She hugs them,
asks their names, their favourite subjects, and even joins her
Lilliputian entourage for an impromptu round of ‘Roar’.
“Let’s go around in a circle, like this,” she says, mimicking a
train, as she takes charge of her little army. “People were
talking to them like they’re adults, and I was like, ‘No, that’s
never going to work,’” shares Perry, when I ask her about
her knack with kids. “I’ve had a child-like approach my
whole life—in my career, my music—and that element of
playfulness is what keeps me young.” At DY Patil Stadium,
the audience during her powerful two-hour set doesn’t com-
prise girls on their boyfriends’ shoulders but children wav-
ing from their parents’ vantage point.
Capturing Gen-Z, the notorious lot born into technology
with the attention span of a goldfish, requires skill. “I think
I’m young at heart and they see that. Authenticity is impor-
tant to me, and young people—Gen Z, more than anyone—
can sniff out frauds.” So, mid-concert, when she admits
she’s “sweating in every crack”, fans are in love. Between
costume changes, when her band starts playing ‘Part of me’
without her, Perry bounces back on stage in her neon
green jumpsuit and sneakers to come clean to her
befuddled audience: “I got to tell you the frickin’ truth, guys.
I just tried to change my costume and I’m sweating so much,
the back of my costume ripped in half!” And there lies
her charm—she’s the celebrity who sounds like a
human, and not a well-coached robot.
Perry’s willingness to put it all out there (she once did a
72-hour YouTube livestream, including an unnerving >