Before the season is completely over, I want to put this out there! The summer of 2017 brought with it something quite unexpected. It brought me whites. To a girl who was raised to avoid whites as much one could as they got dirty easy and were too much work, finally accepting the colour was a big achievement.
Jungles have always been really close to my heart. Whether it was reading about Mowgli, or the fact that I grew up on a hill station, jungles mean a lot to me. Back in my hometown, I had a special place where I would go read, write, listen to my favourite Avril Lavigne songs, sing them out loud sometimes, had my first kiss and even contemplated killing myself. That spot, in the middle of the woods, witnessed a lot from my life.
For as long as I can remember, I have been a shy kid. I knew I could fight if need be, but I would avoid it as much as I could. As a result, I was bullied and didn’t do much to raise my voice against the same. And it’s not me alone, a lot of us have been through this. We try our best to avoid conflicts and in the process suffer burns that we weren’t supposed to. The society does suppress our voice but more than others, we ourselves choose to do it to ourselves.
“Let’s pick a darker colour!”, is my mother’s first response to white. The colour white. A colour she would never wear because in our culture, it is worn when people die, thus a symbol of sadness. The kids couldn’t wear it for it only meant more frequent washing cycles, which has to be avoided at all costs.
Let me start with a funny story. When I was a kid, about 6 years old, my cousin got married. And among other clothes for the wedding, me and my brother were bought a pair of dungarees each.. My brother decided to wear it everyday, EVERY DAY. After a day of the wedding, the men of the family, along with all the kids were supposed to go pick up our cousin from her in-laws’, as per the traditions. My brother insisted on wearing the same dungarees, again! My mom had given them out for a wash but my brother wouldn’t budge. And as life (or my mom!) would have it my brother had to decide whether to go without his dungarees or not go at all and in between his crying fits, we decide to leave him to it. Haha!
Rains bring different memories to different people. While some go back to paper boats and puddles, others are reminded of the worst of traffic jams. A long time back a boy told me that he had never in life enjoyed in the rain by choice. My question is, how can you not?
I had never realised this until very recently when all I could see at the H&M store was stripes, stripes and some more stripes. That got me thinking, if it was a new trend or was I missing out. On some more thinking, research and going back to memories of my fashionably scarring childhood, I came to the conclusion that stripes, in one form or the other, have always found a way to remain important in fashion. They have always disguised themselves and formed alliances with other trends of the time to remain relevant throughout. Does that mean they are a classic? I believe so.
As ridiculous as the title may sound, this has been a very much requested post by a lot of you who read the blog. Given the diverse country we live in, in most places, donning short, revealing clothes is not a possibility. Most girls asked me to do this so they can look fabulous and not turn up to college looking like Pooh from K3G and ultimately getting kicked out of the campus. Some of us are facing the rules set by the society, our parents and some other forces. Illuminati? Maybe that too. Honestly, I get out with wearing such clothes mostly because I do not live with my folks. So, while I strongly believe in wearing what you want, twisting your choices to respect the surroundings and occasions doesn’t hurt.
I have recently come to a realisation that creating images is also something I feel really passionate about. Every time I come across a new concept, location, well anything, all I want to do create some pictures. And for good or for bad, I am not even concerned to include fashion in it anymore. I love images that can talk for themselves, recite a little story. So since this blog is what I live for and things I love, I have decided to do some photo stories from time to time. Just for your eyes (and of course, mine!).
From the day I can remember, I have seen my mom wear a Sari, every single day. She was married at a delicate age of 16. What a different world would that have been?
While I find it hard to zip a pair of skinny jeans, she manages to drape a Sari in a minute. Magic? Maybe.