Events & Personalities
Famous for being famous
"When Bapsy Pavry, Marchioness of Winchester, died in 1995 the obituary writers had fun,” writes Vikram Doctor in Sunday Times of India (STOI) of November 10, 2013. Stating that the British have a "taste for irreverent memorialization especially when the subject is neither important nor has lived to the unwritten codes of British life,” Doctor mentions that Pavry was "neither the former nor quite managed the latter” despite determined, even desperate efforts in that direction.
Describing her as "an enthusiastic self-publicist… prone to circulating documents extolling her own virtues,” the Daily Telegraph gleefully recounted Pavry’s mortification when her husband, the Marquess of Winchester left her soon after their marriage in 1952 to live with his former girl friend, the mother of Ian Fleming who created the James Bond character, STOI notes. Refusing to grant a divorce or even accept the situation, Pavry took off for the Bahamas where she staged a protest outside her rival’s residence. A neighbor, quoted in the obituary that appeared in the Daily Telegraph, described her as "an overweight Indian lady clad in a dingy sari, pacing the main road… occasionally pausing to raise and shake her fist towards the main house.”
Pavry fought and won a case against Fleming for "enticing” her husband, but the decision was reversed on appeal. Realizing that she would never get him back, she returned to Bombay where she resided with her father, a senior priest, at Sunama House which still exists at Kemp’s Corner. She lived between Bombay and London, spending her time writing hundreds of letters to celebrities "and usually received replies from their secretaries.”
Doctor mentions that Parsis of "a certain age recall her remarkable feat of marrying a marquess” and one of them once told him: "After she got married all the lords and ladies of England had to bow down before her!” as in the peerage of that country the Marquess of Winchester ranks just below the Dukes and Pavry had claim to that status.
In his book How to Disappear: A Memoir for Misfits, British author Duncan Fallowell has been more sympathetic to Pavry than the obituary writers were. He describes her desire to advance herself as "a high romantic passion capable of crossing into the absurd; on occasion she was opportuning, maddening, pitiful” with her "breathtaking resilience, her social crudeness, her absolute refusal ever to pick up a dropped hint…”
Doctor’s analysis of how to be "famous for being famous” includes writing a book, working for charities, writing copious condolence letters, dressing differently – topped off by marrying an aristocrat and never stopping networking, all of which Pavry did with panache. To begin with, she was well off and had been educated abroad at Columbia University. She had been "presented” at the British court in 1928, a rite of passage marking social entrée for young debutantes. Pavry’s book, The Heroines of Ancient Persia remained her only work, though she was described ever after as a "famous litterateur.” She worked for a number of charities to ensure social visibility, scoured the newspapers for news of bereavements of important persons and "fire off a letter of condolence and thereafter sweep into the memorial service like an old friend of someone who was usually a complete stranger to her.” Doctor writes that today’s social climbers send tweets.
Pavry’s distinctive style of dressing in embroidered Parsi saris with a sor covering her head helped her stand out in a crowd. Soon after her marriage to the Marquess, while preparing to attend the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1953, she wrote to the College of Arms which oversees protocol in the UK, asking which was the correct way to wear a sari on such a formal occasion and was gratified to be informed that it should be cream or white, with a tiara over the drape on her head. Sadly, she never made it to the coronation as the Marquess had left her before the occasion. Though he was 90 when they married, and he had no money, she was content with his title as she was financially independent. However, it was of little use to her when he wasn’t around. She became bitter when her desperate attempts to attend the coronation were "firmly deflected by Buckinghan Palace” and she "slowly found herself shut out of most British society events, though occasionally she was accommodated in an inconspicuous position, hidden behind a pillar.”
The continuing slights were hurtful and Pavry eventually returned to India where there was little scope for social climbing. For "about 40 years she wrote letters to celebrities and world leaders, interspersed with travels during which she tried to meet them, at least long enough to get her pictures taken (which were then sent to the newspapers).” Fallowell, who examined her papers after her demise mentioned that they were contained in nine boxes, donated to the city of Winchester, along with one million pounds, to make sure the city kept them. She also got them to name a hall after her. However, there were no personal letters from friends or family among her papers, her life’s energies having been focused on celebrities.
But perhaps she would not have cared that the obituary writers made fun of her, for Pavry had "lived her life on her own terms, deriving the pleasures that come from social climbing and self advancement and leaving her legend, such as it is, for all the hordes of climbers who have come up after her.”
Describing her as "an enthusiastic self-publicist… prone to circulating documents extolling her own virtues,” the Daily Telegraph gleefully recounted Pavry’s mortification when her husband, the Marquess of Winchester left her soon after their marriage in 1952 to live with his former girl friend, the mother of Ian Fleming who created the James Bond character, STOI notes. Refusing to grant a divorce or even accept the situation, Pavry took off for the Bahamas where she staged a protest outside her rival’s residence. A neighbor, quoted in the obituary that appeared in the Daily Telegraph, described her as "an overweight Indian lady clad in a dingy sari, pacing the main road… occasionally pausing to raise and shake her fist towards the main house.”
Pavry fought and won a case against Fleming for "enticing” her husband, but the decision was reversed on appeal. Realizing that she would never get him back, she returned to Bombay where she resided with her father, a senior priest, at Sunama House which still exists at Kemp’s Corner. She lived between Bombay and London, spending her time writing hundreds of letters to celebrities "and usually received replies from their secretaries.”
Doctor mentions that Parsis of "a certain age recall her remarkable feat of marrying a marquess” and one of them once told him: "After she got married all the lords and ladies of England had to bow down before her!” as in the peerage of that country the Marquess of Winchester ranks just below the Dukes and Pavry had claim to that status.
In his book How to Disappear: A Memoir for Misfits, British author Duncan Fallowell has been more sympathetic to Pavry than the obituary writers were. He describes her desire to advance herself as "a high romantic passion capable of crossing into the absurd; on occasion she was opportuning, maddening, pitiful” with her "breathtaking resilience, her social crudeness, her absolute refusal ever to pick up a dropped hint…”
Doctor’s analysis of how to be "famous for being famous” includes writing a book, working for charities, writing copious condolence letters, dressing differently – topped off by marrying an aristocrat and never stopping networking, all of which Pavry did with panache. To begin with, she was well off and had been educated abroad at Columbia University. She had been "presented” at the British court in 1928, a rite of passage marking social entrée for young debutantes. Pavry’s book, The Heroines of Ancient Persia remained her only work, though she was described ever after as a "famous litterateur.” She worked for a number of charities to ensure social visibility, scoured the newspapers for news of bereavements of important persons and "fire off a letter of condolence and thereafter sweep into the memorial service like an old friend of someone who was usually a complete stranger to her.” Doctor writes that today’s social climbers send tweets.
Pavry’s distinctive style of dressing in embroidered Parsi saris with a sor covering her head helped her stand out in a crowd. Soon after her marriage to the Marquess, while preparing to attend the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1953, she wrote to the College of Arms which oversees protocol in the UK, asking which was the correct way to wear a sari on such a formal occasion and was gratified to be informed that it should be cream or white, with a tiara over the drape on her head. Sadly, she never made it to the coronation as the Marquess had left her before the occasion. Though he was 90 when they married, and he had no money, she was content with his title as she was financially independent. However, it was of little use to her when he wasn’t around. She became bitter when her desperate attempts to attend the coronation were "firmly deflected by Buckinghan Palace” and she "slowly found herself shut out of most British society events, though occasionally she was accommodated in an inconspicuous position, hidden behind a pillar.”
The continuing slights were hurtful and Pavry eventually returned to India where there was little scope for social climbing. For "about 40 years she wrote letters to celebrities and world leaders, interspersed with travels during which she tried to meet them, at least long enough to get her pictures taken (which were then sent to the newspapers).” Fallowell, who examined her papers after her demise mentioned that they were contained in nine boxes, donated to the city of Winchester, along with one million pounds, to make sure the city kept them. She also got them to name a hall after her. However, there were no personal letters from friends or family among her papers, her life’s energies having been focused on celebrities.
But perhaps she would not have cared that the obituary writers made fun of her, for Pavry had "lived her life on her own terms, deriving the pleasures that come from social climbing and self advancement and leaving her legend, such as it is, for all the hordes of climbers who have come up after her.”
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