Do you ever get that feeling that you are stuck in some kind of style rut? That you, out of all people, you, who looks at people only for their clothes, can't really put together an outfit anymore? On days like these, I feel like a fashion outsider - someone who can still appreciate people's sartorial choices, even get some fluttery sorta feeling after looking at Chloë Sevigny, but has forgotten how to dress up for fuck's sake.
Now that you have already wasted two minutes listening to my rant, you might as well spare some more into looking at my analysis of why this happens...to me at least. And how I intend to fight it.
The office shit
I know a few women who dress up so well for work. But to me, all office wear stuff usually look like monkey suits - bland, sad attempts at hiding the real personality underneath neutral tones, take-me seriously blazers and boring as hell fitted shirts. Solution? Make a Pinterest board with all the work outfits that inspire me!
Those extra 7 kgs
For someone who loves androgynous style and oversized stuff, not being thin never helps. I know, I know we are supposed to be secure and flaunt our bodies, this is 2020. But I do allow myself this one tiny insecurity. And that is precisely where my personal style never really comes out. Solution? Accept the fact that it doesn't really matter! Grow up!
Lack of inspiration
For this one, instead of cribbing, i will straightaway jump to the solution. Read dear girl, read. Read fashion articles. And save all the outfits that you love on Instagram. Look at those images on a Sunday and see how you can take cues from them to create 5 outfits for the next week. Sounds like a plan? I am on it already.
What do you do when you feel like you are stuck in some fashion rut?
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I am sitting at a cafe, waiting for a new friend to walk in at any time, and tell me what is wrong with her marriage. Post two cold brews, I get a text she isn't coming. Instead of going home, I decide to look around, stare at some more people, and try to read their lives from ten seconds of visual contact. I realise the last time I came to this mall was when I was almost a teenager. I was supposed to go back to my hostel by seven. But somehow, even with that kind of curfew, I seemed happier. The best part about being a teenager for me have to be those songs in my head. It's not like my adult head is a monk's cell, there are songs playing as I write this, but they seem to occupy less space somehow.
My next beverage arrives. It’s red, smooth and apparently healthy. My mind moves on to blenders, the powerful, 800 watt, can crush ice and beetroot - without crashing like Stranger Things’ demogorgon from Eleven’s stare - kinds. I have been meaning to buy one of those blenders as I have been told that smoothies are supposed to be an integral part of a healthy lifestyle. I also need to start saving up for a house, and maybe should start dating as well.
Does growing up have to hurt? When I look at my morning routine, or travel for work during weekends, or give that drink a pass, it does. When I look at my waistline, or the fact that I would be staying in this weekend and follow some nine step skincare routine, it hurts even more. Adulthood is overrated, most say. And what I have realized it that it sucks the most because your friends, who were available for you 24*7 earlier, have priorities now, and that you can no longer cry your eyeballs out for every little jolt you feel, or giggle over something really corny but good. You can’t discuss why Mr. Big (SATC) never deserved Carrie or why Phoebe Waller-Bridge is so fucking relatable.
Then I think of Fleabag, and Andrew Scott and then my mind is blank for a while, well, my watch says for more than an hour. I take a cab. I don’t have to ask anyone if I can stay out a little more. I look at my phone. I am supposed to call a friend who is simply stupid. Growing up, I had to laugh at his stupid jokes because I didn’t know I had a choice. Now I know I don’t have to laugh, or even pick his calls. I know it’s okay to not like people, and more importantly, to not be liked by people. I can’t stress the second part enough.
I reach my place, which, by the way, is cute. I have posters on my wall of things that actually mean something to me, not some random “Yes, I love Scorsese too, see I am so cool. Like you” shit. I have an option of right swipes followed by mindless sex followed by no guilt option. Not that you need to be a grown up to be able to right swipe, but the “no guilt’ part? C’mmon, that takes years to happen. It’s 2 am, and I can make Spaghetti Aglio e Olio like Shahrukh Khan. It’s 30th today and I am broke. But I know that if I have made it for ten freaking years, I will make it for another ten.
Does growing up have to hurt? You tell me.
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Recently, I have kept accessories at an arm's length distance. It seems like too much work. It's almost as if 2019 brought in with itself some wave of lazy fashion in my way. Not a good wave.
Even fashion icons have a signature accessory. Mostly. Imagine Coco Chanel without her pearls, Anna Wintour without her sunglasses, Negin Mirasalehi without her boots, or any one of your favorite influencers without her stacked bracelets or dainty necklaces. Not the same.
When I decided to take pictures of this outfit for the blog, I knew something was amiss. So I rushed in, got that red scarf and them sunglasses. Because when it comes to fashion, a little touch of something extra means a lot, if not everything.
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Why do we like certain colors?
I have seen people whose faces light up like a ferry boat when they see certain colors. And when I try to wonder about it, the whole thing feels like science. Almost. I know a lot has been written about the psychology behind preference for certain colors. But at times, I feel we gravitate towards some colours for reasons more than obvious. Here are some colors that never get old for me.
Yellow
Now here is a colour most people will never get in their life time. If you ask me, there are days when I feel yellow is the color of my soul. Of course there are less appealing shades of yellow, but the color seems to be the happiest a colour can get. Have you ever seen a tree with yellow flowers and not felt a thing?
White
50 per cent of my clothes are white. When I think of white, I see Lady Diana, Cameron Diaz, Josephine Skriver's recent white jumpsuit (for me, it will never get old in this lifetime).
Beige
This one is 2019's favorite color, and rightly so. The color is everything if you ask me. Imagine this: beige tank to, navy blue pants, brown shoes. You can thank me later.
This time, for a change, the photos have something to do with the text. I have included all these colors in this outfit.
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Is it possible to be happy and sad at the same time?
Some time back, a friend of mine was telling me how he was happy and sad at the same time. He was in a bad relationship, the kind that sucks out every last bit of happiness from your system. But he was madly in love with her. So when she left him, it just got worse. And then it got just a little better. "I am lonely. I don't know what to do anymore. I am sad. But there is no stress. There is no pain. I guess that is a good thing," he said.
He got me thinking. And then, just like that I realized there are many like him. Happy and sad at the same time. I had an aunt who was forever grumpy, and she had a knack for ruining anyone's day. She was mean. I used to think she was sad. But then I had seen her smile after doing something really mean. Happy and sad, both I guess.
My plants are like that sometimes. Happy green mostly, with some brown frowns. My poems are like that, dipped in pain, but somehow optimistic. I know a girl, much younger than me, she seems sad, just enough to be mysterious, happy, just enough to tolerate friends like me...
Navy blue, one of the best colours ever, also seems happy and sad to me. It's dark, so people would think it's mostly sad. But have you seen it in all its Glory?
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"Why do we chop our hair? The question may sound simple, with usual answers on the lines of 'I want to experiment' or 'My hair was sort of damaged after all that drastic coloring'. But at times, the reasons are a lot more. I have asked this question to a few women I have known and here were their answers.
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"Someone said that if a girl chops her hair, she wants to change her life. I too wanted to change my life, so I took the plunge. Did it work? For the first 3-4 days, I felt new. I had this confidence that I could do anything. But that feeling wore off too soon. Sure I still looked different, but that feeling of excitement was gone. I don't regret having short hair, but next time I do it, I will do it for better reasons."
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"It was an accident. The salon guy didn't understand what I wanted at first. I wanted Emma Stone's hair in La La Land. And what I finally got was, well, it was really short. I hated it at first. Then the compliments started pouring in. At dinner, my roommate told me I looked like a model off-duty who means business. The next morning, I put on some make-up and the way I felt before leaving home was pure bliss."
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"It was all great in the beginning. But then, I started looking like a boy from certain angles. And that was a bummer. When I put on make-up, I looked like a thousand bucks, with every feature enhanced, my collar bones were a dream. I would do it again. But I would need to resolve to be a make-up kinda girl till I intend to keep the hairstyle."
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"I had been meaning to go for a pixie for a long time, but somehow it didn't happen. One day when I was talking to a male friend of mine, he asked me why I kept delaying it. The next day, I just went for it. I took the new hairstyle like a duck to the water. I loved everything about it, the way it looked, the way it felt, the fuss free hair-care routine, everything. Then with my wedding and all, I let my hair grow for a while. Now, I simply miss my short hair. It's just a matter of time before I will book another appointment at Bella Maddona again.
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P.S. I was just bored with my old hair.
She had pride. Queen-sized.
Never too much for anyone.
Just enough to fit her beaming spirits.
And when it got too cold
She would wrap herself in his love.
And dream about the northern lights.
He would never stay the night.
You are not my destination, he said.
Yet she smiled in her sleep.
You will come back again baby.
I may not be much to look at.
But my heart. It's hell of a pit stop.
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As usual, the poem has nothing to do with the outfit. I had nothing fashionable to talk about. So wrote a poem instead. Please follow me on GFC and Facebook and Instagram if you like reading the blog.
