Fashion is a ongoing phenomena, what is fashionable today, tomorrow the same thing is so unfashionable. It is really a hard job to keep up with the current trend. I am not that fashion conscious; but like all, I like to be at present not something like an old relic. I can not exactly remember how many pairs of trousers, shirts, shoes and jackets were crying for my attention at various stages of my life before giving them away to the needy.
I had some favorite dresses, specially those, which were part of some of my most memorable time, were there in the wardrobe for longer days crying for my attention. They get attention after some interval but not what a shirt would like to like. The jacket I was wearing that drew attention of my better half to me, was bright red with yellow stripes. That jacket was there in wardrobe for the longest as my fashion misstatement. Now, I wriggle at the very thought of wearing that jacket ever, but I did that and met my future wife. Hence, a strong misstatement of fashion sometime can be a gainful act.
Going back a few more years to my tween days the fashion world was very colorful, with lots of floral shirts, bellbottoms and platform shoes. The world just whizzed past tight pants and long pointed shoes era. John Travolta with his epic pose of lifted finger adored most of our walls. We yearned to wear a pair of bellbottoms but that was something impossible with our totalatarian parents (what all my tween friends thought at that point of time) around. But hindi movies openly propagated the idea: the smarts and handsomer wear nothing but floral shirts, bellbottoms, two inch wide belt with huge buckles and platform shoes. We felt like outcast in a group of fashioned teens even if we were not welcome guests.
Suddenly, the impossible happened, the brightest amongst us who we thought had the hardest boiled egg parents turned up with a flared trouser, a bellbottom. That too with his parent in toes. That was the much needed lead, immediately we started impressing our parents in our own individual ways for the yearned styled flared trousers.
Bohag Bihu is the biggest occassion in the part where I lived, and everybody wear new clothes on the first day of this festival. My father asked me to report to the nearby cloth-store from where we bought most of our family clothing needs and to place an order for stiching a trouser for me with slight flare at the bottom. It should be modest and suit my age of (ripe) twelve and half. Cycling to the store was the fastest cycling I ever did and could put Lance Armstrong to shame. Placed the order after selecting a suitable apparel for it and waited till the first day of Bihu, on which date the trouser shall be delivered. As a very special case the shop shall remain open in the first half of the day to meet the order deadlines.
I waited with much anticipation for the trouser which was very much obvious to my mother, and enjoyed it.
The first thing I did on Bihu was to have a bath and have breakfast of Pithas and Jalpan of delicacies availble only in that part of the world in traditional attire of dhuti, gamocha and chapkan. Slowly I took out my cycle and went to the cloth store and changed my dress to the newly stiched bellbottom and cycled back to my home.
Everybody, I met on the road wished me before I could; and complimented my dress. Elation is the word to express how I felt.
Back home by the time some relatives, friends gathered to wish and to enjoy the customery pithas. I proudly entered the room in my new dress. The first persom I met was my father, whose mouth fell open dropping almost every piece of pithas he had in his mouth to his lap. The reason: the trouser was the brightest yellow colored with maximum possible flared bellbottom.
The day was saved, though rods were not spared in those days to correct spoilt sons. Only because nobody spank their sons on the day of Bihu . That was the last occasion I wore my dream bellbottom. I overgrew it in next six months.
I still have the Yellow Pair of Bellbottom in my memory box and it will be there till I am there to remind me of my fads and whims of my eventful journey of life.
I had some favorite dresses, specially those, which were part of some of my most memorable time, were there in the wardrobe for longer days crying for my attention. They get attention after some interval but not what a shirt would like to like. The jacket I was wearing that drew attention of my better half to me, was bright red with yellow stripes. That jacket was there in wardrobe for the longest as my fashion misstatement. Now, I wriggle at the very thought of wearing that jacket ever, but I did that and met my future wife. Hence, a strong misstatement of fashion sometime can be a gainful act.
Going back a few more years to my tween days the fashion world was very colorful, with lots of floral shirts, bellbottoms and platform shoes. The world just whizzed past tight pants and long pointed shoes era. John Travolta with his epic pose of lifted finger adored most of our walls. We yearned to wear a pair of bellbottoms but that was something impossible with our totalatarian parents (what all my tween friends thought at that point of time) around. But hindi movies openly propagated the idea: the smarts and handsomer wear nothing but floral shirts, bellbottoms, two inch wide belt with huge buckles and platform shoes. We felt like outcast in a group of fashioned teens even if we were not welcome guests.
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| Cover of John Travolta |
Suddenly, the impossible happened, the brightest amongst us who we thought had the hardest boiled egg parents turned up with a flared trouser, a bellbottom. That too with his parent in toes. That was the much needed lead, immediately we started impressing our parents in our own individual ways for the yearned styled flared trousers.
Bohag Bihu is the biggest occassion in the part where I lived, and everybody wear new clothes on the first day of this festival. My father asked me to report to the nearby cloth-store from where we bought most of our family clothing needs and to place an order for stiching a trouser for me with slight flare at the bottom. It should be modest and suit my age of (ripe) twelve and half. Cycling to the store was the fastest cycling I ever did and could put Lance Armstrong to shame. Placed the order after selecting a suitable apparel for it and waited till the first day of Bihu, on which date the trouser shall be delivered. As a very special case the shop shall remain open in the first half of the day to meet the order deadlines.
I waited with much anticipation for the trouser which was very much obvious to my mother, and enjoyed it.
The first thing I did on Bihu was to have a bath and have breakfast of Pithas and Jalpan of delicacies availble only in that part of the world in traditional attire of dhuti, gamocha and chapkan. Slowly I took out my cycle and went to the cloth store and changed my dress to the newly stiched bellbottom and cycled back to my home.
Everybody, I met on the road wished me before I could; and complimented my dress. Elation is the word to express how I felt.
Back home by the time some relatives, friends gathered to wish and to enjoy the customery pithas. I proudly entered the room in my new dress. The first persom I met was my father, whose mouth fell open dropping almost every piece of pithas he had in his mouth to his lap. The reason: the trouser was the brightest yellow colored with maximum possible flared bellbottom.
The day was saved, though rods were not spared in those days to correct spoilt sons. Only because nobody spank their sons on the day of Bihu . That was the last occasion I wore my dream bellbottom. I overgrew it in next six months.
I still have the Yellow Pair of Bellbottom in my memory box and it will be there till I am there to remind me of my fads and whims of my eventful journey of life.
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