The Importance of Having A Good Tailor

"Wherever you go, you would need a good tailor. Or else you won't feel like home," my cousin used to say.

She was right in so many ways. If we discovered a good tailor, we would roam around the city like a bunch of happy monkeys, in packs, full of purpose. We knew who needed what and when and how much. The shopping for the so called dress material made us understand the city so better, and before we knew it, we were already started to feel a sense of belonging. 

Whenever we had a good tailor, we would also know how to convert mother's old sarees into a dress, or alter an old, frumpy maxi into a short, edgy mini. Since our wardrobes were constantly evolving, we would go out more, just because we had new clothes.

And every time I have to go to my hometown, it's never done till a visit to a tailor is ticked off the list. It is almost a ritual. To those who don't understand,"Well there is stuff only a good, trusted tailor can do."

I have been to many cities in my country and I know for a fact that finding a good tailor is easier said than done. This dress, for example is a byproduct of five not so lovely interactions with a tailor I am yet to understand.

Do you also think the struggle to find a good tailor is real? 

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Morning Stories

She hurried down to that place in the corner
The happy place that opened at seven
With two tables out on the street
And a door that creaked and slid again

She worked the night shift 
And he took the eight'o clock train
They had an hour of love every morning
A love she thought was lost in vain

"Coffee for one?" asked the guy at the counter
"Make it two," the girl would say
She took the coffee and went to the shore
Before the waves hit, she heard a "hey"

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The Bollywood Heroine

She dances around trees till her feet hurt. She wears flimsy sarees amidst snow-capped mountains. She recreates a male's idea of a woman's emotions, sensuality, ambition, evilness, anger...She recreates them like she owns them. She appears in the far right or far left of a movie poster, apologetic, supporting, modest.

She shows us how to look good, what to wear, how to pose for pictures. She makes the ridiculous look aspirational. She knows she is beautiful. She knows her place in the world. And yet she takes a backseat whenever asked. 

She obliges to her fans' selfie requests, answers to stupid, regressive questions of reporters, and trolled by people who have never met her. She is mocked for being too fat or too thin. She is loved and hated in surprisingly equal measure.

She is blacklisted for speaking up. She is called difficult for saying no. And just when you thought she had nothing to say, she takes the mic. She seems to be fearless. She stands in support of her tribe. She sometimes, just sometimes, cares less.

The Bollywood heroine has come a little less than a long way. 

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Wish i could pose for pictures like a Bollywood heroine. Can't blame a girl for trying though.

You Are In Our Room

“Is there any room out there for a straight white guy like me?”

The actor is not the first one to feel threatened when others not of his kind take the centerstage even for a while. There is something about self-entitlement that fools the best of us into thinking it is normal. 

But that is not the worst. What is worst is a scenario where the sufferers, for a split second, think they had it coming. Years of conditioning, jokes that we were taught to laugh at, lies we were made to say to feel included and loved....they all give the odd ones amongst us reasons to blame ourselves  for our miseries. Some weird kind of closure. 

The color of our skin, the words in our prayers, the abilities of our limbs, the details in out anatomies, the human in our bed. They continue to define our lives, personal and professional.

While the bigger changes may take time to happen , it is the small ones that we should start rooting for at once. No laughing at LGBT jokes, no doppelganger bias while hiring, no sticking to the 15th century definition of normal. And last, but not the least, giving it back to the self entitled clan. 

 "Andy Samberg, you are in our room. Most of the times. Yes, it's not technically ours right now. But it could have been had you not straightwhitespread into everywhere, from restaurants to offices to Hollywood." 
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Yes, I know the text has got nothing to do with the pictures. I just wanted to make some noise while looking fashionable. Please follow me on GFC and Facebook and Instagram if you like reading the blog.

Busy Week

It has been a really busy week. So I am posting a quick one. These are just a few random pictures that have nothing to do with each other. But of course they are about how we go about doing our stuff on a particular weekend. Just regular fashion.

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Flowers

Flowers lie pale
As I wait for them to die
And become something else
Anything but flowers

While you call me from a distance
A bird flies with all its might
This ain't home, she knows
And flies for her life

The lights go dim
As your eyes look for me
This ain't the moor we held hands at
Anything but a dream.

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Summer Staples

My summer outfits are always breezier than yours. No, I am not being a snob. Summer heat brings out the worst in me (besides lazy ass people, bad coffee, writer's block, weirdos on social media, hormonal imbalance.....). So while everyone else can still wear jeans and canvas shoes and even layer, I look like a mess in the most flowy and light dresses.

I wish they made clothes that felt like coconut frappe and watermelon coolers. Clothes that are thin and opaque at the same time. Clothes that look structured, but one hint of wind and they would move like flags on a mountain or paper boats on a stream.

Developing such technology may take time. Till then, I am trying to stay sane with whatever I have. These dirt cheap navy pants are one of the best unfair weather friends ever.

What are your summer staples?

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Nothing Wordy

I have been trying to write something for the last two days. No success yet.  Hence I am publishing a simple outfit post. Here is our (my sisters' and mine) take on summer dressing. From shorts to jersey dresses to peasant tops,we have tried to cover a lot.... I promise to come up with a decent write - up in my next post. Till then, have a great weekend... 

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The Guy At The Cafe

The composed, self-assured yet polite guy seated next to me at the cafe ordered the exact pair of things I did. I tried to study his manners as he engaged himself in frivolous Google searches. For a while, I had an impression that he seemed to have bored himself into coming there. He finished his coffee and cake and made sure his table bore no traces of his order as he sat there, perhaps contemplating his next humdrum act. His thoughts were interrupted with the arrival of four guests, one of who looked like a person of interest to him. The girl and he saw each other and smiled in the most polite and nervous manner, as who appeared to be the farmer's parents and elder sister shook hands with the latter. This was followed by a pause and an over-the-top polite and determined-to-mpress inquiries by the guy about everyone' s well being and preferred beverage, calculatingly not excluding the girl.

The mother, however, smiled at this little detail. What is it about mothers that make them capable of looking right through the most seemingly inconsequential actions of their children?

There were only four chairs at his table. I offered them one  so that they could all sit together. What followed was a list of boring exchanges on each others' professions and backgrounds. I didn't mean to overhear but the familiarity of arranged marriage meeting has its own charm. The whole idea of a conversation full of purpose with two parties putting their best feet forward usually makes for a good show.

They talked about health, bmi, gyms, parks, traffic,  home towns, the city and metro among other things. Everything but marriage. This however, should not be mistaken for a lack of interest. It happens. People get nervous and have no idea how to go about such meetings. After a few minutes of awkward silence, someone always ends up asking a totally non-relevant question in an attempt to break the ice.

The meeting eventually ended. The smile on the faces of the girl's parents was far from pretentious. The guy collected his laptop which was left to be charged at the counter and they all left, leaving behind an air of uncertainty.

Did  he drop them to their place? Did the father hug him or shake his hands in the end? Was he invited for another round of tea? Did he leave their place with a sense of accomplishment and finality? Did the father find a secluded moment to discuss something with the mother? Did the girl spend the night thinking about her wedding trousseau? 

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Five Habits Of Highly Unfathomable People

When it comes to liking people around us, a lot depends on the stage we are at in our lives. The teens are likely to hate almost everyone, the twenty-somethings may develop some tolerance. And at times, more than age, it all depends on our ability to take a few steps back and watch everything from a distance.

Having said that, everyone I know knows a set of people they absolutely do not get. Here are a few that never fail to surprise me.

1. People who implicate that you are mad coz you are having a bad day. No, dear disillusioned human, YOU have said or done something that would piss off even turtles. Sounds crazy, right? God bless you. 

2. People who would eat out at expensive restaurants, but never have enough money to return that ten grand they owe you!

3. People who would jump a queue and behave as if everything, yes everything from the atmospheric pressure of the air to the expressions of invisible people around them, have not changed a bit.

4. People who mock you for eating healthy. Yeah, we get it. you are cool. But what goes into my mouth is non of your business. 

5. Only Indians who love golgappe will get this one. So there are these people who would throw away the extra water after every golgappa shot they take. But in the end, they will ask for extra water. You guys rock! Totally. 

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These pictures have nothing to do with the list above. Sorry about that.

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A Hundred Times

There are a hundred places that remind me of you
A hundred times you say hello
A hundred ways I ignore your smile

There are waves with Gods in them
A hundred times they wash my heart
A hundred times they leave the sand

There is a black screen I stare at
A hundred times I see your name
A hundred times I think of the bus 

Save a seat for me again
A hundred times i will make you laugh 
A hundred times you will miss your stop
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The Happy Shirt

Ruby and I, we were fat and happy when we first met. Unlike most nine year olds who spent their time watching TV and collecting comic books, we sat near the river. We played till dusk, talked about our favourite stories from the English book and watched ships with iron blocks (we guessed) being sent for water cooling. 

Summers were the best time for us as we got an extra hour to play by the river owing to late sunsets. While rushing back to our homes on Fridays, we planned on coming a little early the next day. We planned on wearing our happy shirts, bringing all the savings of the week and buying  ice cream on our way back. 

Once Ruby got a stubborn flu and we couldn't go to the river for almost a month. I went to her place every Saturday and told her all about school, about this new boy in the class who brought noodles for lunch, about our science teacher who told us we were all going to die one day and that kids who kept their books shabby would  never learn anything. 

There was this one Saturday when I couldn't go to Ruby' s as there were people coming over and I had to wear a pretty dress and greet everyone and teach an eight year old how to do well in exams. By the time the relatives were gone, it was already dark. The next Saturday, I went to Ruby's only to find the house locked. I came again next week and it was the same. 

I have a hard time remembering her face today. All I remember are those evenings. I would like to believe that Ruby is alive today, does something really cool during summer evenings,  and wears her happy shirt once in a while. 

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Shrobbed

Though the trend has been there for more than a year now, I am yet to wrap my head around it. Shrobing, the art of leaving one's jacket to rest on their arms and not shoulders, had more admirers than Celine Dione's style statements last year. 

First of all, shrobing in uncomfortable. It is all easy-peasy till you are sitting pretty, waiting for your coffee. But try getting up, walking out, buying your stationary and making at least three calls to your Uber driver before he can locate you, and you will realise you are exhausted. On top of it, your wallet looks like that fat kitten you once were so jealous of as a child. 

But then shrobing makes for the best Instagram fashion pictures. It adds an edge, a nonchalant vibe to the whole outfit. I have not gone all the way with the outfit here, just one shoulder was exposed. It was an experiment of course. And I have to admit, I may try it again. Uncomfortable? Yes, but the trend has this cool ring to it. What do you think?

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Feud In The City

In the light of the latest Sarah Jessica Parker and Kim Cattrall feud, it is tempting to say that friends on screen may not necessarily means friends off-screen.

But then I couldn't help but wonder if a squabble like this is anything but unreal. Aren't we all wired to - some more than others - fight, get jealous, be insecure, start a cold-war, get offended, and maybe then just kiss and makeup?

After a significant period of time, we all know our friends. Carrie is touchy, Miranda is reliable, Charlotte is old-school and Samantha, of-course, will always be trouble. But people change. Who knows Miranda may be the new trouble. While the whole Instagram altercation is high TRP material no doubt, the old SITC fans are secretly wishing the two ladies to just talk it out. Maybe the past is like an anchor holding them back. They just need to let go.

And yes, it is sexist to think women can't be friends. Men fight all the time. And it isn't something that won't happen to the new ones. Wait till our kids/nieces/nephews get to know about a fight between Hannah and Marnie. 

TIll then, let's stay updated on the exchanges between these two fashionable ladies...

You guys have a great weekend ahead. Please follow me on GFC and Facebook and Instagram if you like reading the blog.