Dressed to be avoided.
One’s dressing style has such an impact on how one is perceived or treated by the vast majority. I was reminded of this yesterday as I went to a chic ice cream joint (the owner took the much acclaimed Ice Cream Making course at my alma mater, and erstwhile home, of Penn State University at University Park) which I visit a few times a year – not because it is upscale or expensive but because their ice creams – flavours and consistency – are by far the best I have found in Madras. My good friends know that I leave no stone unturned to scour the city for specific tastes and flavours. 🙂
The employees always treat me well – probably a combination of the fact that I am a repeat customer AND the very fact that I have come in search of them! As I hunkered down into one of the comfortable couches to savour the Caramelized White Chocolate and Salted Butter Caramel ice creams, three 20-somethings entered. One looked at me literally up and down seemingly wondering what in the world someone like me was doing there. She nudged her companion who nudged the third member of the group. And they all sized me up again. For a moment, I felt like a Martian. I met their eyes and smiled. It was not returned.
As they left to put in their order, I had to smile. This was not the first time. I have been told I ask for it – what with my turmeric laden face, traditional central parting of my long undyed hair in one braid (neither of which has seen a salon), highly traditional grandmother style nose ring, yesteryear styles of clothes and last but not the least, the Ambassador car I drive (relevant only when I am seen alighting from it). Salwar kameezes and sarees are ubiquitous, but few wear the completely plain blouse in ‘2 by 2’ fabric, or the ‘behenji’ cut in the North Indian attire. Not that I have not tried – palazzos, leggings, blouses in different materials accentuated this way and that – I got a few after being pestered by my friends, many of whom are fashionistas. But, having experimented with all of them, I know that I prefer the good old fashioned 2 by 2 blouse (which is way more comfortable, easily washable and perfect for hot and humid Madras) and the time tested baggy salwar bottom and generously cut kameez that does NOT hug every curve of my slowly-but-surely-enough burgeoning frame. Even if my curves were good enough for display (which they most definitely are not), I could never bring myself to show them.
Now, let me hasten to add that this does not mean that I lack standards or am sloppy. I do not wear nighties, at night or at any other time. I bathe. My clothes are laundered scrupulously, starched, ironed and colour coordinated (as best as I know to). At home too, because I go out in my street clothes. Even in summer, I walk wherever possible which, given Madras conditions, often prevents me from wearing richer clothing. My attire is, therefore, usually complemented with a comfortable pair of sneakers (that will not match) and possibly a hat too. Sonali Shukla will recall my charging through Silver Spring MD to visit her and Ranjan Vasudevan on foot in a silk saree, wide brimmed hat and Reebok sneakers, with a backpack slung over my shoulders. I do change into grander attire, at times accessorized with my old-fashioned authentic jewellery, for appropriate occasions, though.
These days, I find I analyse my clothing choices at purchase beyond its appearance. My first priority is comfort and hardiness. The proprietor of an online clothing store I patronise has been amused by the questions I ask – she assures me nobody else does! If it requires dry cleaning, even the oft-heard ‘first time dry clean’, I drop it. If I even suspect it will bleed badly enough to ruin the garment, dropped. If it feels rough, dropped. Not pure cotton or silk, dropped. Etc. Etc.
I am in a happy state now – I know my mind and I have the guts to follow my instinct – without worrying about how it will be perceived. That, I think, is the best part of growing older. Be it clothing or otherwise, I am comfortable in my own shoes (pun intended) and am not worried about external perception. Occasionally, I get a real kick out of defying that perception too. But that is a story for another day.
To return to the incident mentioned at the beginning of this very long post, it is sad that one’s education level, station in life, or just plain deserving of respect and even common courtesies etc. is judged based on the onlooker’s beliefs of what external appearance is acceptable in their eyes. I have myself seen and experienced shop assistants who will offer their best services to those dressed ‘hip’ and discernibly put down their nose on those appearing more traditional, old-fashioned or speaking in a language other than English . And just as frequently, I have noticed that the latter actually end up buying items of much more value.
Ironically, it was that very education, extensive worldwide travel and traditional upbringing that taught me to appreciate and recognize substance, try to be non-judgmental, and gave me the courage to follow my heart and be comfortable in my comfort zone when the winds are all blowing in the opposite direction. I am a behenji – through and through. Period. Take me or leave me.
