A sign of our times

The Clichéd Woman and the Dandified Man - A sign of our Times.

Gone are the days with due permission from the wind (global warming you see) when woman wore demure clothes or always had the veil covering them. The men also dressed simpler and were not too worried about the color of their skin and the shape of their eyebrows.

Meet today’s woman, the seven for humanity hugging jeans, legs slathered in the tightest possible way, wearing a Zara Top with just the right amount of tantalizing cleavage showing with the seductive bit of lace peeping hinting of forbidden desires or is it a I don’t give a damn attitude confirming to the modern woman. She is perfectly coiffured with hair so straight that a man would slide off these tresses, with danger to his neck if he ever would want to play with them aka Meena Kumari pakeezah style. Today’s woman is dressed in head to toe in her designer wear from the Gucci sun glasses to the shiny new I have arrived status of the LV bag (note it has to be the patent one) and the dainty wrist encased with the Omega oyster watch. Of course, today’s woman cannot pick up her own progeny; the maid does it for them, the baby’s too heavy, my dear! But the spondylitis causing bag which is a Pandora’s box of wipes to the mysterious sun block, the cell, the battery juice pack without which no self respecting woman would step out and of course the main stay of Indian women the kajal (but alas, it is not the home grown Khadi kajal stick, it has to be a Chanel or a Dior stick, safe for eyes) and then the gloss, which will be used discreetly or in the face by them to make the pout more sexier. 

Ms. Khatoon dresses according to the international colors, so now the autumn shades are in play and she asserts it with shades of rust and a bit of olive green and then stuns with the purple. Her main aim in life is not to divulge her source from where she bought her clothes or her shoes. Currently, I believe we want a Tory Burch and a Tod’s bag to flaunt. Ms. . Khatoon and her gang continuously flit from one haunt to another immaculately clad, groomed to the bits with the base, make up all layered and eyes teased to perfection with the carats framing their angelic faces. Coffee times, driving around the Geri route, and to be seen at the right places and oh I forgot the first preview of every designer collection. Where else can I flash that toned, rightly tanned leg under a perfect subtly crumpled linen dress with hair artfully messed up as if you had just woken up but took three hours to set  and yes just the kohl line eyes behind the artsy fartsy glasses and the big chunky watch which tells others of one’s  social standing and the big fat pearls all dividing the old money and the noveau riche.

In fact, there were unwritten subtle codes for every event be it a wedding, an akhand path, lunch, dinners and the most difficult being a cremation. Does any one realize how difficult it is to wear a suit? A pastel shade one, or the perfect whiter than white with subtle embroidery and the Pakistani shalwar straight from Miyan ji from Lahore? One had to be remorseful but had to be still artistically made up, the right kind of sheen and the nude look.

Men have it so easy, just wear a linen shirt and the jeans, a bit scruffy and the loafers. So easy. But, today’s man is a dandy straight from Victorian times; his grooming takes more time than any woman’s. He regularly visits the facial wallah or is it a wali (?) to get the right skin tone, no pores and eyebrows picked, plucked to have that craggy look. Today’s man is confident in all his skin treatments for his beautiful mane that is proportional to the virility of the man. In fact, given the testament to the hair clinics mushrooming in India it seems all the men are secretly bald.

Today’s metrosexual, or whatever sexual labeling it is, treats his skin to the best treatment available only from Molton Brown or Penhaligon’s. He is careless or careful to just wear the right clothes all carefully showing a nonchalant put together attitude. The tie has to be a Burberr , the belt a Bottega and the money clip from Gucci and mind you , the watch ( again a big fat one ) from Tag and then we come to the biggest symbol of them all , SUV’s.

That is another story in it self, the projection of oneself through the car is like the little lost boy who never grew up in today’s world.  

What surprises me is the ease in which they have embraced all this far from the perception one had . It is mud packs, , to skin softeners, to special hand creams to hair coloring ( argh) and primping one self . Its ok to look good and be normal but to fight for mirror space alongside your wife on the vanity , well I always knew I was old fashioned .