My closet has been in the need of more than a touch of new for a while. This weekend, I finally went out shopping hoping to remedy the situation in one fell swoop. Several hours later, I had not been able to make a single purchase. This has increasingly been the pattern of my "shopping sprees" that happen quite rarely to begin with. Unless I'm willing to pay an arm and leg, it seems impossible to find something that fits me well and also becomes my age.
Fashionable clothes are easy to shop for but finding one's distinctive style is a whole different matter. Some of my girlfriends swear by thrift stores in upscale neighborhoods - they have given up on the offerings of the suburban mall. I have a cultural block about wearing hand-me-downs - so its not an option for me.
All of this makes me miss my tailor back in India who could create perfection from my rough pencil sketches accompanied by a flurry of inarticulate requirements. Reading Margaret Bender's account of her tailor, Mr Singh only accentuates my longing for mine - I could have been wearing a classic Chanel outfit recreated in Luncknow Chikan on chiffon this summer.
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...
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