My idle rich life is coming to an end. Effectively from Tuesday. I will be busy once again thinking about PVs and UUs and looking after a new community and all that. I’m terribly excited. Because it was a difficult and confusing decision.
And now that it’s all set, I’m even more confused. What am I to wear, sweetie darlings? This choice of clothes to wear is not a light decision to make. Ever. Never.
Earlier, I used to use best friend and critic’s suggestions. This was a bit difficult and often led to conflict of interests. My best friend and constant critic is a believer in subtlety. I, on the other hand, am most happy when I’m totally over the top. Almost burlesque. But we survived. Then there was Baby Vat, who knew my penchant for OTT and suggested accordingly. And it wasn’t too bad only she wasn’t always available being the busy woman she was verily shouldering the burden of every single company she ever worked at. And so my then lover took on the responsibility of being wardrobe consultant. He was very certain I shouldn’t wear cleavage revealing clothes. So I went a whole season in collared clothes – which seems such a waste of time now. Then after him, there was my best boyfriend forever. He’s not only an absolute stud but he also has really impeccable taste – I swooned when he wore a jacket. I swear, I did, darlings. And he knows what I like. So that’s always been easy for both of us. And I always wore what he suggested and waited eagerly to hear his, ‘Womans.’ That meant it was a hit!
And now everyone is in a different country and it seems a waste of good money to call people in distant lands for wardrobe consultation. But it’s very important to know what to wear.
What you wear apparently always tells other people everything about you. I have a face that goes extremely well with Indian wear. Or so I think. I like doing the whole insanely huge bindi and bangles and earrings and what not. And I love wearing saris. Especially when I’m being an MC or when I’m about to make an important presentation.
The first time I was an MC for a really, prestigious event at the Indian MNC I worked at, I was told I have to, simply have to, wear western formal. Although I spoke in a great neutral accent veering towards British English, it wasn’t ‘phoren’ enough. I had to also look like a ‘phoren lady.’ Because apparently, it was more professional and showed that although we were an Indian Multi National Company, hello, we can wear pants, you see? And so I had to shop for (even when they didn’t pay for such things) fitting trousers, formal shirt, just the right shade of lipstick (this is the deal maker) and shoes! So I lost a battle but I won the war because every subsequent event I anchored there, I simply did my own thing and wore a sari and behaved like I always wore pants.
In the US, I had a really fun experience. The first two days of the conference I wore Indian clothes. It was early December and it wasn’t very cold so I could carry it off. There was a particular colleague who would NOT speak to me at all. Such instant and hostile rejection was very new to me. People usually take to me well. Later they may realise how blundering that is, but still. So this chap would not talk at all. On the third day, however, it being bloody cold for saris and other Indian clothes that have superb ventilation, I opted to wear western formal. And that was the day the silent guy struck a conversation with me. Coincidence?
Then there was this memorable interview. I had of course gone wearing a salwar kameez and my trademark big bindi. The interviewer asked me relevant questions and then said – Ummm… Errr… how familiar are you with western culture? I said in true Wodehouseian style – Quite. Or rather, if you will.
I’m still not sure he got the reference. Then I went there again to attend another round of interview. And this time I deliberately wore jeans, boots, cleavage top and showed off my tattoo. And suddenly I was world-citizen.
And now everyone is telling me that I’m all growed up and so I must make my own decisions. And I think I took them too seriously and got carried away and painted my nails a bright, fluorescent orange.
It looks cheerful. So I will now have to wear something suitable to go with this. Rather alarming. I hope I don’t give new employers – a gaming company where the motto is fun and games – an absolute shock. And I do feel like I’m someone from Mad Men. Because, don’t you know, darling, it looks bloody fabulous if I dangle a cigarette. Oh well, time will tell! In any case, it’s always only the lipstick that counts. And I always have just the perfect shade of that. And BBF tells me that Christina Hendricks in Mad Men reminds him so much of me! And come on, after that, there is only one thing to do – Go forth, and conquer the new world, Bhumika!