Enticing Scarcity

I am the kind of consumer that is hopelessly confused by an excess of choice. Confused to the point where I feel relieved if a restaurant has a sampling platter so I won't need to select from a never-ending menu. When people of my stripe go out shopping their indecision renders then incapable of making a purchase. We consider our options carefully to be sure that we don't suffer buyer's regret. Less may be more for us and it seems like a winning formula for one successful clothing retailer.

In Zara stores, customers can always find new products—but they're in limited supply. There is a sense of tantalizing exclusivity, since only a few items are on display even though stores are spacious (the average size is around 1,000 square meters). A customer thinks, "This green shirt fits me, and there is one on the rack. If I don't buy it now, I'll lose my chance."

Up until the mall culture came to India, shopping was about being at the right place and the right time and being able to beat the competition. I remember going out shopping for clothes before Diwali, elbowing my way through the milling crowds to reach the store front. I had spotted an outfit the exact shade of magenta I adored as had a bunch of others. Whoever got the shopkeeper's attention first would be able to stake their claim on it.

More often that not that would be the only one outfit of its kind the store had and you would find something like it elsewhere. In the lack of abundance there was incentive for the shopper to make a snap decision to buy. To have five people waiting with baited breath for me to say "No" so they could grab it is a very strong driver to say "Yes". Though shopping was much harder in those days, I atleast ended up buying something. Or rather was forced into making a decision instead of dithering. While I have not been to a Zara store, the idea is very familiar and appealing.

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques...

Heartcrossings

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