Stillettos, Skirts and Shallowness

Even before my eyes open to the morning, bright on the other side of the sun-forbidding drapes of my room, my mind is awake to the cruel reality of the hour – yet another working day and no, morning is not far off! My mind now resembles Dadar station at 9:00 AM on a Monday. Busy. Thoughts run to and fro, up and down but strangely never manage to catch a train. Which means they never go anywhere. And without fail, it’s the heavy ones that land first – thud! Off goes my peace. Consolation enters next, ‘Oh c’on darling, things can’t be that bad.‘ Phew. Peace is now at the door, waiting to be lured in. Then, out of the blue, pops my favourite thought ‘What am I donning today?’ That’s it. Peace makes a beeline in. Life smiles. Dadar station makes way for Joggers Park. And the world is perfect. At least my world is. Talk about strange ‘stress-busters’, eh?

Well, clothes have always been my interest. Whether I’m in the office, road, bus, mall, washroom, cinema halls, party, wedding, restaurant, in short wherever,  my eyes read WWW – Who’s-Wearing-What. And before I’m at these places, it’s MWW – Me-Wearing-What. One may arrogantly label it as a shallow existence. Something like, ‘Somalia has food problems and closer home, poor dear Mr. Hazare’s fasting and all that matters to you is WWW and MWW??’  I too sheepishly accepted the triviality of my being. It’ll get  better I thought. (I mean the weightiness; not the triviality). But I was wrong. Or rather, I was right.

With time grew my interest. Earlier, it was merely about having a good choice. Knowing good (and hidden) places where the wares were of a superior quality. Good choice was then all it took to tell a masterpiece from an ordinary one. However, today, it’s altogether different. It’s a matter of originality, creativity, aesthetic-sense and intelligence. That’s how I perceive fashion. A celebration of life – far, far from shallow. There’s depth and meaning to it. The joy of creation is different. It’s therefore only a consequence that I’m a complete DIY  – Do-It-Yourself – person. (I don’t do the dishes or make my bed though. That’s still far. For now, it is restricted to clothes. But there’s hope).

And you know what? After several disastrous (and embarrassing) DIY experiments, I’ve come to believe that fashion is also a matter of study and patience. Now, having said all of that, whether I have the patience and the resolve to study this beautiful art, is a debatable issue. Let’s leave it at that.

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