Tag: curtains

Ephemeral Fashion: The Humor in Childhood Wardrobes

We were sitting around waiting for an event to start, huddled under a shamiyana-like structure. The rain was pouring – the way it pours in the Nilgiris. All the metaphors and mythos of Great Rains seem very likely, and just like that the skies clear up, and one wonders what happened. Where the rains went and how life goes on as though nothing happened. Dramatic skies are truly nature’s mystics. 

Anyway, there we were, sitting around under a canopy waiting for the event to begin, when a young fellow walked past us in his too-big uniform. The seams of his pants were getting wet from the puddles from the recent rains, his shoes a size bigger, his blazer two sizes bigger, and I couldn’t help smiling. 

I caught the smile on my friends faces too, and we exchanged a quiet moment of reflection. How as children, we were really never properly dressed. All our new clothes were slightly big. Prudence, economic necessity, environmental concerns – whatever the name given, ‘too big’ was the style. 

Goldilocks Style

There was a phase in life when we were dressed in either too-big-new-clothes or too-small-old-clothes. Goldilocks could’ve had a philosophical lesson or two if she’d stopped by and seen us. Life truly taught us the beauty of ephemeral pleasures with clothes – that brief, all-too-quick time when your clothes fit perfectly is never long enough to feel well-dressed. Sigh. 

“Those dreaded hand-me-downs!” I said and shuddered, exchanging a look with the sister, and she gave me one of her joyous cackles. You see? The sister and I have very different bone structures. Hers was what my mother approved of and called Healthy. Mine, on the other hand, made my mother scrunch up her nose, and wonder about what she could be doing better to help things along. But such is fate. The sister’s hand-me-downs, therefore, swamped my scrawny frame (Oh! How I miss those days of being nonchalantly petite and being able to tuck into stacks of buttered toasts without a second thought?!). I perennially looked like I was dressed in pillow covers. Very house-elfish fashions for Yours Truly. 

Nostalgia

That’s how we found ourselves going down the path of “Oh gosh – do you remember?”

And “It should’ve been outlawed. Remember when …” 

The mother was a self taught seamstress and she spent her evenings after school (she was also a high school Physics and Maths teacher) sitting and stitching all manner of clothes for her children and herself. The father escaped. Men’s fashions were where she drew the line. The lucky man! 

https://nourishncherish.org/2012/06/12/what-the-well-dressed-man-is-wearing/

It was a matter of great pride for my mother who learnt tailoring so she could stitch our clothes, alter them when necessary etc.

Frilly Fashions

The mother had no access to fashion magazines, and in those days of Doordarshan, one could not get many inspirations from television either. So there we were. There was a phase when she learned how to stitch Frills. Victorian tailors couldn’t compete when she was in this phase. All our clothes had frills all over.  Years later, I pointed to one monstrous pink dress in a photograph, and asked her what she was thinking of, and she looked confused. 

“Frills made you look bigger and better. “ she said.

Obviously. No irony, no sarcasm. I didn’t have the heart to tease her then. She was still so proud of her frills. Never mind that it made me look like a strawberry in pineapple clothing.

When finally I put my foot down and refused any more of her creations, she conceded to have the school tailor, Paada, stitch our clothes. A distinct improvement but still not exactly fashionable. Where would he get ideas in a village nestled in the Nilgiris with a population of less than a 1000 people?

I can’t tell you how grateful I was for uniforms. As we sat there looking at growing children dressed in slightly loose and big clothes, I felt like the universe really does have a sense of humor.

I truly understand now Bertie Wooster’s pride in his article he submitted to Aunt Dahlia’s newspapers on ‘What the Well-Dressed Man is Wearing’. Trying to capture the ephemeral is what Art is all about, isn’t it?

What the Well Dressed Man is Wearing

After my recent appearance at the first birthday of my son, I am now qualified to submit a piece on ‘What the Well-Dressed Man is Wearing’ or rather what the woman is wearing. I posed for photographs, like my lead fashion designer said, “Red carpet style”. I can see some of you tutting and asking me where my humility is.

Allow me to explain. But before I start, tell me whether you have ever worn a curtain before.

In my chronicles so far, I have mentioned some talents about the mother. She is an amazing cook, excellent teacher at Maths and impressive with solving calculus problems while stirring the sambhar. (There have been times when I would ask her about a particular problem that I was having difficulty with, and she would nod and say she will help me out later. All the while making chappatis with speed and efficiency machines would kill for. Then a few minutes later, she pipes out the answer. She’d have tackled the problem in her mind. That in Algebra or even Trigonometry is okay, but in Integration & Differentiation is another ball-game) I digress.

Point is she has another hobby – sewing. We were often at the receiving end of her experiments with cloth. It goes with the free calculus package.

I still remember the time I went visiting the sister in college. There she was, out in the big, bad world by herself. (The big, bag world had barbed wires on the fences and on the tongues of the nuns overseeing the place, but still) I traipsed into her room wearing a skirt stitched by my mother, and hugged her friends who had come up to our home in the Nilgiri Hills a few weeks back. They pampered me (the little sister) like they always did, but they kept looking at me with quizzical expressions on their faces. It was a few minutes before one of them made the connection. Never one to hold back, she piped, ‘So that’s where I’ve seen it before. Isn’t this the curtain in your living room?’ I was aghast. I was shocked. I told her in a loud, firm voice that the curtains were still in the living room, and she was welcome to come and see them. And in a smaller voice acknowledged that the remaining cloth had been put to use by the mother. You see I tried my best to not wear that skirt at home when the pattern matching algorithm is blatantly simple, but I never thought someone would remember the cursed things a 100 miles away.

I am still a little scarred with complimenting people on their choice of curtains. I do it of course, if the curtains really lift the mood of the room, but with a little twinge of fear that gnaws at the corner of my heart.

So that is my claim to fame in the fashion department. I’ve worn a curtain. Have you? From there to wearing a dress that has the world turning their heads is bound to get to anyone’s head what? Anyway, here is the algorithm to ‘What the Well-dressed Woman is Wearing’

Step1: Get a brother-in-law who is not as fashion demented as yourself and your husband.
Step2: Get the brother-in-law to marry a girl who is not as fashion d as yourself and your h.
Step3: Leave the rest to them.

That is what I did and I must tell you the awesome twosome have done a wonderful job thus far on making us look as little like curtains and bedsheets as possible. The clothes are always stunning, and this time came with a best present of all (the gift of their time and presence.) They are here a-visiting and that is one among the many reasons I have been dawdling on the post frequency.