Women here wear a variety of clothing, which I will try to describe. The most common things are salwar kameez and sarees. A salwar kameez (I have four of them) is a suit: a tunic top that comes to the knees, some sort of pants, and a scarf thrown across the shoulders. The top must have sleeves sewn onto it, though all tops come without sleeves; I have become really good buddies with a tailor because of all the alterations I need. It also has slits up the sides that come to the waist. Pants worn under it must be extremely high-waisted to avoid skin exposure. These pants can be similar to leggings but longer in length so that they are scrunched up around the ankle. Others are like balloon pants (I have some so unmanageably large that I need to get 2/3 of the fabric removed by the tailor), Jasmine-esque, that enlarge the legs and make your top half look smaller. They are loose and breezy, a good alternative to skinny jeans.
A saree is the typical one-piece cloth wrap for which India is known. I have only one because I take eons to wrap one. There’s no way I can do it everyday. Sarees are actually three-piece outfits consisting of a underskirt, a blouse, and the saree itself. One puts on the blouse (which has an embarrassingly pointy chest that I cannot fill out) and buttons it up. It only covers the chest, leaving the midriff bare. The underskirt is a drawstring thing that the saree is tucked into. Then, by my estimate, six yards of fabric must be folded, pleated, tucked, wrapped, and pinned into place. There’s only one correct way to do this.
On Sunday, Maggie, Helen, and I took a shared auto to T. Nagar. This neighborhood is the overcrowded shopping district of Chennai. It is where the most silk is sold in the country and it is also the location of Chennai Silks, where the most expensive saree in the world was sold last year (for 40 lakhs, or about $100,000 I think). We walked into a mega silk store and began to explore its five stories of fabrics. On the third floor (actually called the second, because ground floor is 0), a group of salesgirls kidnapped us and dragged us into the trial room (fitting room). They unwrapped the sarees that took an hour for us to do in the morning and spent the next hour redoing them. They didn’t speak English, but somehow they taught us the correct way of doing it. More and more pink-clad girls poured into the hot, tiny space to help and to watch the foreigners being made over. The girls loved to make my cheeks jiggle and to put their fingers into my bellybutton, after which they would give me the OK hand sign. Apparently I have soft skin and an innie like they’ve never seen before. Being surrounded by these 4’11” girls who were more than happy to help share their culture (and who treated us like curiosities) was an amazingly fun experience.
Sometimes I see the t-shirt wearing woman walking around the city, but that is rare. I still don my capris and crew-neck tees often, which draw funny looks. But I’m really comfortable in western wear.
Little kids wear nothing and everything. From their birthday suit to frilly dresses to their parent’s oversized clothing, the kids can get pretty creative.
Men are more uniform with their clothing. It’s always slacks and a button down or, less commonly, a polo. Some men wear a lingi, which is a piece of cloth tied around the waist that hangs to floor length. It is kinda like a towel, kinda like a skirt. Men free ball under it (I know, I saw one man lift it all the way up to scratch something) and must be very comfortable with the breezinees the lungi allows.
What I like best about Indian clothing is its colors and patterns amongst women’s wear. The fabrics are bold. Though many people I encounter live in poverty, I am still amazed at the vivacity of their freshly washed and pressed clothes. It is like a statement of their passion for life despite their surroundings.
A saree is the typical one-piece cloth wrap for which India is known. I have only one because I take eons to wrap one. There’s no way I can do it everyday. Sarees are actually three-piece outfits consisting of a underskirt, a blouse, and the saree itself. One puts on the blouse (which has an embarrassingly pointy chest that I cannot fill out) and buttons it up. It only covers the chest, leaving the midriff bare. The underskirt is a drawstring thing that the saree is tucked into. Then, by my estimate, six yards of fabric must be folded, pleated, tucked, wrapped, and pinned into place. There’s only one correct way to do this.
On Sunday, Maggie, Helen, and I took a shared auto to T. Nagar. This neighborhood is the overcrowded shopping district of Chennai. It is where the most silk is sold in the country and it is also the location of Chennai Silks, where the most expensive saree in the world was sold last year (for 40 lakhs, or about $100,000 I think). We walked into a mega silk store and began to explore its five stories of fabrics. On the third floor (actually called the second, because ground floor is 0), a group of salesgirls kidnapped us and dragged us into the trial room (fitting room). They unwrapped the sarees that took an hour for us to do in the morning and spent the next hour redoing them. They didn’t speak English, but somehow they taught us the correct way of doing it. More and more pink-clad girls poured into the hot, tiny space to help and to watch the foreigners being made over. The girls loved to make my cheeks jiggle and to put their fingers into my bellybutton, after which they would give me the OK hand sign. Apparently I have soft skin and an innie like they’ve never seen before. Being surrounded by these 4’11” girls who were more than happy to help share their culture (and who treated us like curiosities) was an amazingly fun experience.
Sometimes I see the t-shirt wearing woman walking around the city, but that is rare. I still don my capris and crew-neck tees often, which draw funny looks. But I’m really comfortable in western wear.
Little kids wear nothing and everything. From their birthday suit to frilly dresses to their parent’s oversized clothing, the kids can get pretty creative.
Men are more uniform with their clothing. It’s always slacks and a button down or, less commonly, a polo. Some men wear a lingi, which is a piece of cloth tied around the waist that hangs to floor length. It is kinda like a towel, kinda like a skirt. Men free ball under it (I know, I saw one man lift it all the way up to scratch something) and must be very comfortable with the breezinees the lungi allows.
What I like best about Indian clothing is its colors and patterns amongst women’s wear. The fabrics are bold. Though many people I encounter live in poverty, I am still amazed at the vivacity of their freshly washed and pressed clothes. It is like a statement of their passion for life despite their surroundings.
