My fashion escapade

( Written By Ridha )

This is more like my personal experience than another article about the rest of archies. As i said before everybody has a wannabe phase after coming to college. But at the end of the day you find out who you are for real.

                                                                        

  The story starts when I sat one afternoon with my friends to have lunch. Recently my classmate Suhaila had started flaunting some trendy clothes. I think I was talking about that to Lakshmy, who sat next to me. That was when lakshmy, known for her insightful remarks said yet another remark.

“Ridha, all the hijabis are so fashionable. Why can’t you try something too?”

(Hijabis are those who drape a shawl around their heads and pin it, known as a hijab)

                That statement meant two things.

1)  I am not fashionable, besides being a hijabi.

2)  It’s high time I started being fashionable.

I should say I cringed a bit inside. Man! Am I that bad?

        During my high school days, I had the habit of drawing curvy girls in pretty clothes which made everybody convince me that I can be a ‘fashion designer’.

 But I stowed my designer dreams away and decided to pursue architecture. What Lakshmy said drew my attention. I should do something and uphold the high standards set by my fellow hijabis in our class.

                   

        How do i become fashionable? I can't copy anybody. I have to do something on my own. I observed some people and came to the conclusion that most people get their fashion sense from their mothers or friends. There are some who have a natural flair for it, and some others who simply buy very costly clothes which will always have a minimum fashion value. My circle of friends were the kind of people who couldn’t relate to fashion any more than me, except Sophia who turned super religious recently, she forsakes fashion to walk around in a pardha, I didnt pick much sense from her.

My mother is just weird when it comes to fashion. I have my reasons to say that. Imagine your mother goes to Fabindia because an aunt takes her. She ends up buying a white kurti and shawl for herself and a top for her daughter. On the first day of wearing the kurti, it’s stained with red pickle. My mother tried washing it and it gets red patches besides the orange patches because she soaked it with a red cloth. Since there is nothing to do anymore, she chucked the kurti in the dark recesses of the cupboard. She draped the black shawl on top of the refrigerator. I guess she couldnt find any other shawl that would be as durable as Fabindia to drape over the fridge. Since I am a chip off the old block even weirder than my mother, I don't wear the top outside, instead I wear it inside, like a slip. I found out that Fabindia was more comfy than Jockey so I wear it inside my usual clothes. My mother didn’t care to correct me either. That’s how bad we are. Since I don’t believe in spending money to buy good fashion (because I am perpetually broke), I decided to develop a flair for it.

I took inspiration from Seba, my senior. She was one of the many people who wanted to be a designer and ended up taking architecture. But she didn’t leave her dreams midway. She picked them up from where she left them. I saw her post pictures on facebook of the designs she materialized. I took queue from her.

I drew a design that was in tune with my religious constraints, which was a culotte and top. I bought this beautiful blue cloth to materialize my design and approached tailors.

                

Tailor 1. Arjun abi

                Arjun abi’s real name is something else; this is what I call him because his true caller id happened to be this name. The guy was very confident when I explained the design, a little too confident. I was naïve so I left the shop feeling happy that I would get it next week. I was wrong. Neither did he give it next week nor two months later. But every week that devil made me come to the shop only to disappoint me.When my patience ran real thin I just went to his shop and got back the cloth.

Tailor 2. Senior citizen

                The second tailor is this old guy from Karicode. I went to him but felt I needn’t burden him with a design.

                All this time Seba posted more pictures of her designs in facebook. I wondered where she got all of them stitched. So I approached Seba herself through Watsapp with sly intentions. I struck her weakest spot, animals. I went on about how I love animals, especially cats and dogs. I think I overdid it at some points. She seemed to have been taken aback when I told her that I found some inexplicable, otherworldly wisdom in doggie’s eyes. If Seba is reading this I want her to know I totally meant that! Anyway, she revealed it to me after some time. She goes to some shop in Aluva. Mwahahaha! Perfect!

                But before my plan could attain fruitition, my mother intervened. She discarded my design mercilessly saying it doesn’t work. She took the cloth, gave it to this tailor, Mohanan, whom she likes and I hate, to make kurtis.

Tailor 3. Evil tailor Mohanan

Nothing much to say about Mohanan, except that he disappeared from town! And so did my cloth! My father tried calling him, but he wouldn’t pick up. He searched for him but no one knows where he went. At this point I thought the universe was telling me to drop my designer plans.

                As an attempt at redemption I salvaged my mother’s old clothes, including the Fabindia kurti and shawl from its lowly disposition. I wear the oversized kurti anyway, hoping the patches aren’t that visible. I don’t give a damn even if it does. I am not fashionable. Period. I am comfortable this way. I wear whatever I want. Or maybe I will do it all over again one day. Once I buy a new set of clothes. I wonder what destiny has in store for me then.