Fashion, my chief grievance.

Note: Before you start frowning as your eyeballs move below, do take cognizance of the fact that these are merely my own perceptions. If anyone is offended by anything written below, I’m sorry. I really mean it. [*Tip of the nose enlarges, Pinocchio style*]

I’ve always been baffled by words like ‘fashion’, ‘trends’ etc. I’ve heard hundreds of people talking about how a particular material is the ‘in thing’. What is fashion, anyway? To me it’s pure insecurity. I surely don’t think it’s a “phenomenon that changes with time”. People don’t walk out in public with their atrocious jewellery, shoes, clothes, hairstyles etc merely to ‘show it off’. Fashion, as stated by Paulo Coelho, and I quote, “is merely a way of saying, ‘I belong to your world. I am wearing the same uniforms as your army, so don’t shoot!” Hearing people and especially children of my age cry about wanting new clothes to ‘blend with the latest trend’ has never failed to gain my abhorrence.

Today a normal household consists of fathers working hard for every rupee only to spend it on their teen children, who are crying about wanting new clothes, not due to necessity, but because their friends have new clothes. The mother competes with her friends till she has a more expensive wardrobe having famous brand names. [I confess with a sad heart, that this particular thing happens to some extent with my mother too, though she denies the FACT.] Older teens and adolescents dream of becoming Paris Hilton and roam about in freakishly bizarre clothes to gain attention. People are willing to get their hands on such stuff, only to throw it away after a few months, when some freak wears some particularly weird thing, and he is referred to as the ‘trendsetter’.
I’ve always smirked at those hypocrites on TV, who insist that their ‘style is being comfortable’. Sheesh, judging by their expressions and looking at what they are sporting, it is crystal clear, I daresay, that they would give anything to strip naked, away from the public eye, and scratch themselves all over!

Fashion always goes above my head.
Take girls for instance. The following phenomenon totally beats me and I’ll never figure it out: Why do girls wear tees with stuff written exactly on the wrong place, if you know what I mean? Ah, I don’t mean one four or five letter word written either, I mean those tees with two or three sentences written in small print. Do girls want people to read that or not? I mean I’d say even if girls write their passwords on that place, I’d say it would be safe at least from males. If any girls who sport such tee shirts are reading this, I will now disclose to you a secret: IT IS NOT POSSIBLE FOR MALES TO READ WHAT YOU WRITE THERE! I mean, for God’s sake! If we look, that would be indecent!
Another thing is high heels. I’ve seen my own mother walking and although she doesn’t limp and claims she is comfortable, the fact that any woman is uncomfortable wearing heels is for anyone to see judging by the way they walk.
With lads, I’ve noticed this new trend of wearing loose jeans so it slides down and reveals your undies to the observer, and if the observer has woken up on the wrong side of the bed, butt flashes aren’t rare either. If such males are reading this, please, sirs, confine your exposing to your bathroom or your bedroom! How in the world is revealing buttocks in public fashionable?
All the mentioned trends, and many more have never failed to leave me inebriated. I shudder at the thought of how people keep up with such things. Fashion probably tops the imaginary list of “1000 most naïve ways to spend your money”.

I am hence very proud to say that I’ve never been influenced by ‘fashion’. I’ve never asked for new clothes from my parents. Fashion comes and goes, but style is permanent. (*Smiles for the cameras*) I’ve always held the view that fashion is some thing you adopt when you have lost your own identity. As Greek philosopher Plato said, and I quote him roughly, if memory serves me right, “Beauty of style and grace is in simplicity.” How true. I’ve never given a deuce about what I wear as long as it is completely ethical. Just today my mother was crying out about how I wear the same two shirts and the same pair of jeans.
My mother and I have had plenty of arguments about why I should buy new clothes. Believe it or not, my mother forces me to buy new clothes! I completely hate it. She has to drag me to shops to buy new clothes! I’ve never understood mom’s complaints about me wearing the same clothes. What is wrong with that? I mean, they are washed everyday, so it’s quite hygienic!
I’ll never understand why she has to force me to buy new clothes, and come to think of it, she won’t either. See, clothes are like girls. (For all the females with their fists clenched, I don’t mean it in the ‘buying’ sense!) You get introduced to a new shirt, then slowly you become comfortable with it and you build a relationship with it. Suddenly having a mother pop out saying “Dhruv, it’s become old, buy a new one!” is extremely disturbing. And my mum is not someone who will listen to a simple no. She is short and doesn’t look intimidating, but her appearance doesn’t tell you anything about her. I’ve never known her to encounter a raging, mad bull, but should the contingency occur, I bet that the animal, on seeing her, would lie down and start shivering. So, she’s always succeeded in ensuring I don’t bore the onlookers by wearing the same thing, and I assure you that if it hadn’t been for her, I would wear the same thing everyday. Although courtesy mommy dearest, my clothes haven’t been similar, my style of clothing always has, for the past five years. Chequered shirt with a blue denim three-fourth or full pair of jeans. I might as well add that it used to always be three-fourth until the past two years when I substituted it will full pair of jeans. That wasn’t because of insecurity due to hair growing on the legs (I’ve found that silly!) but because of an expanding waistline coupled with the fact the I didn’t get myself to buy another pair somehow.
So that’s my style, and it is going to remain that way. Love it or hate it, you’re always going to watch it. You might wonder why I wrote all this. I had to vomit out my feelings, because yesterday was an exceptionally bad day. Mum dragged me to the shop and brought THREE shirts for me. Whatever happens, I want her to read this: I won’t stop wearing my yellow shirt or even my blue shirt. End of discussion.