Wardrobe woes from this India trip

It was a packed India trip. First we attended 4 wedding in a week, and then I was travelling on work, and when I came back to Chennai, there was barely enough time to visit relatives, be visited by relatives, a quick trip to the beach, the second hand bookstore, and packing. However, the trip was defined by wedding outfit planning before I left.

Beauty or Torture - Part 2

War, violence, and destruction, have not been the forte of women. Generally speaking. Until today.

No, I am not being dramatic. Let us look at the facts:

What are you saying?

Truth is that clothes are part of our style statement. Those who think that they are not making a style statement are still making one - about not wanting to make a style statement! Each of us has a style. We are eclectic, boring, feminine, conservative, colorful, gothic, bold, drab, comfortable, creative, fashionable, etc. What we wear is only part of the style.

How we wear it changes our statement. 

There are hundreds of ways of wearing blue jeans. There is the polo tee with brown shoes look; there is the free-bee tee with gym shoes look; there is the blazer and loafers look; there is the converse sneakers, tight tee, and six pack abs look (yes, you do wear your face, your hair, your body, and your make-up, too!).

Where we wear it changes our volume.

The same look on the same person can make a louder or muted statement to different audiences. When I wear a short black dress to work at a bay area software company, my clothes say I am not afraid to stand out. When patidev wears jeans and gym shoes to the opera, his clothes say that he is not afraid to stand out. Switch the settings, and the same clothes suddenly become quieter.

What do you want to say?

Curly Hair

All through my childhood, I wished I had beautiful, long hair. I tried growing my hair, and no matter how long I grew it, it curled up enough that it never passed my waist. I always had to have them in braids. Anything else just looked like a poofy triangle.

Finally, I gave up on long hair, and cut my hair short. However, it still would not behave until I grew it enough to tie it all into a pony. 

Other girls may have dreamed about pink princess dresses. I always dreamed about straight, shiny hair. Hair I could show off. Hair that would move with the wind and settle back into a perfect style.

As I grew older, I finally realized that a lot of conditioner and zero combing were the formula for me. I finally started accepting, and then loving my hair. 

I love that I can shower, grab some product, run my fingers through, and leave for work, with wet hair, only for it to set into the most beautiful curls. 

I love that when I shed hair, no one can see that I am thinning up there. 

I love that I never need to use a drier, an iron, or anything else that will damage my hair.

I love that people come up to me and ask how much I spent on my perfect perm.

I write this in the hope that someone with curly hair, who straightens or presses it, will read this and know that their hair is an asset that they can flaunt, not hide!

Who is prettier?

The fashion world is buzzing with talk about these two models. Who looks prettier?

The first picture is considered a revolution in the fashion industry. It is the first time that a model is showing her tummy. The second is a photoshopped picture where the hip is smaller than the head. 


There is a lot of talk around positive self image and why the first is a picture we never show, and the second is one, that though unachievable, is shown in a paid advertisement. Fashion industry is getting criticized heavily for the low body self image that women have. 


Change, however, never comes from criticism, or protests, or marches. Change starts from us. Can we appreciate the variety of sizes and shapes we come in, and appreciate the body we have? 


Every dance teacher will tell you that it is important to hold your head high, stand straight, and smile. It is not our large breast or flat chest, our rounded tummy or six pack, our thunder thighs or skinny legs, that make us pretty. It is how we feel about ourselves, and how we carry ourselves.


Take off your clothes, stand in front of that full length mirror, and admire!

Fashion Rules

I always thought that dressing up, like cooking, is an art we get to indulge in daily. One gets to be creative every day, and come up with a new combination of ingredients to make something special, to be enjoyed just for that day, and if it is really good, to be repeated sometime later.

That is until I have discovered a new world of fashion blogging. Bloggers photograph themselves everyday and write details about where they bought each piece, sometimes refering back to older pictures of when they used the piece in a different oufit. They spew complex theories about colors, and ruminate about dos and donts. They introduce the likes of me, who think we can dress ourselves up without help, to the world of fashion.

I realized that there are fashion rules. These rules are transient and change with the times.

1990: Wear matching denim jacket and jeans, 2000: Dont wear denim with denim, it is too matchy-matchy, 2010: Wear denim with denim but make sure that the colors are different.

Who makes these rules? Is it the image consultants? Is it the manufacturing industry? Is it the retail industry? Is it the fashion designers? Even the people in the fashion industry are left wondering who this powerful rule-maker is.

Rule-maker, rule-maker, can you make me a rule? Just one?

Anything I wear rules!

Beauty or Torture?

Uncomfortable fashion has through centuries and across civilizations been the forte of women. High heels, long nails, long hair, flowing dresses, make up, and various other "beauty enhancers" are the world of a woman (and generally speaking not that of a man). Recently, there has been much "education" around self-image and how the need for youth is imposed on women by the society. Yet, I sometimes wonder.

While I wear flats and keep my nails short to keep my sanity, I certainly enjoy well tailored clothes, pearls, and fresh prints, and even an occasional lipstick. And often, I am not looking for approval from anyone. In fact, there are times when patidev finds my clothes downright ridiculous and I wear them with a flourish anyway.

My 3 year old little brat has been watching me and the older brat change earrings through navaratri, diwali, and christmas season, and while I had beautiful sticker earrings (sometimes with intricate stone work) for her to wear, she wanted to wear the same earrings as us. So, after hopeless attempts at trying to convince her otherwise, off we went to Claire's yesterday, with warnings along the way from the older to the younger brat about how it would hurt. The younger brat, scared that we may still be trying to change her mind, assured us that she would be brave and not cry. She did not! Not a sound, a grimace, a whimper, a tear - nothing at all!

"How much pain would women bear to look pretty?" patidev asks.

If dressing up is accepted as an art form (like cooking a meal) then one does not measure beauty by the effort involved. Instead one gauges how pleasing the results are to your eye (or your palate). I say this, and yet a part of me wonders if it is really art or stupidity that makes us torture ourselves in the name of beauty.