On launch night, the store was a zoo of men in pink pants and ladies in Louboutin, paparazzi and PR, Harman Baweja and other has-beens.
Most of this store's merchandise we’ve seen before, at Ensemble and Melange and Amara and Zoya, enough times to bore us into a coma.
On a BEST bus between Amboli to Andheri, there’s a conductor with the handsomest moustache in town, and now you can get him to come hang(er) in your closet.
There are some things money can’t buy at this home store, and unfortunately, those are the most desirous.
It's all very plush and atmospheric, with heritage tiles, chandeliers and mottled walls thick with vintage clocks - big, small, round and square, but none in working condition.
You can trail your fingers down a luxurious staircase with a suit-clad clerk who helps you try on a big-buttoned blazer that looks like Balmain but costs Rs 2,000.
For this edition, you get a visit from the goon squad: they hold old saris at needlepoint, morph metal buckets, and go hell for leather.
The next time you're in the market for a cheap squeeze, you know where to go.
We were about to write it off when we spotted the fruit picks - finger-long, elegantly hewed from guava wood, and our first clue that Baaya had much potential.
Let's swim through dark waters, swing off chandeliers, invite over some boxers and smoke those pants!
You'd hardly imagine the secret staircase that leads to a giant spoon big enough to cradle a baby, and a tiny man riding on the back of a stapler.
Who could have guessed that a whisky flask could be so charming, or a skipping rope so ridiculous?