Aranmula Fashion Tailors

"You look so nice today!" Nisha exclaimed this week when I arrived for my cooking lesson. "So pretty!" Then she elaborates: "The first week, you don't look so good: no earrings, no beauty spot (bindhi), no mendhi (henna on my hands and feet), your hair pulled back," she says while shaking her head (actually shaking it, not the Indian head wobble). "Last week, little better; this week, very nice... you have mendhi, nice outfit, hair is down, you wear earrings and beauty spot. Maybe next week you will be beautiful."

I think to myself, "But how to look beautiful? I've run out of tricks!" Out loud I protest, "But Nisha, I don't know what else to do!"

"Maybe nice necklace, bracelets, little anklet." Hmm, maybe I shouldn't have asked. I don't tell her that this is already more accessories than I would ever wear at home. At least she hasn't suggested makeup.

(Lest Nisha seem rude, I should mention that Indian are very blunt but they mean no insult by it. They just say what comes to mind in an honest way.)

At the end of my lesson, Alexandra came in (she has cooking right after me) and Nisha relayed our conversation to her. Alexandra declared, "Next week, maybe she wear sari!"

Oh great.

My favorite outfit here in India is the churidar (as they call it in Kerala) or the salwaar kameez (as it gets called further north). It's billowing, lightweight, cool and comfortable. The salwaar pants are loose and baggy with a drawstring. The kameez top is a long tunic. The third piece, the dupatta, is a scarf worn draped across your chest with the ends down your back. I may live in churidars when I get home (if I can figure out how to do it without people saying, "oh look at the hippie chick who went to India! what does she think she's a Hindu now?").

You can buy them ready-made as sets or individual pieces or you can buy fabric (again, in pre-matched sets or individual pieces) and take it to the tailor. I have a few ready-made pieces that I bought and some ready-made sets. The tailor custom-made me an all-white churidar outfit for yoga, and he altered a few of the ready-made shirts that were too wide. I also bought a stunning and very dressy churidar set that I will have him tailor for me as soon as I decide on the design.

Whereas churidars are easy to wear and functional, saris are beautiful... but completely impractical, unless you were raised wearing one. A sari is also made of three pieces: a petticoat (or drawstring underskirt), the choli (the tight-fitting crop-top of a blouse), and the sari itself: a rectangular piece of fabric anywhere from 5m to 9m long. The sari is tucked into the skirt, wrapped around your body, and then pleated and draped over one shoulder (and, for most women, secured with a few strategically placed safety pins). There are a few different ways to wear a sari, but I have yet to master even one of them. Both times I've gone out in a sari, someone else has dressed me. I need to practice this afternoon, as I am wearing a sari to the wedding tomorrow. I can manage to walk around and even eat a meal wearing a sari, but women here wear them for everything--cooking, cleaning, riding the crowded bus, riding motor scooters, handwashing the laundry-- and somehow they always look fresh and composed while doing it. Their inborn grace is astounding.

On one of my first nights here, I was saying to Martin that I loved churidars but didn't think I could handle a sari. He suggested that I learn to wear one for exactly that reason, that it would give me a sense of accomplishment and confidence to wear one comfortably. He could say that because at that moment he was wearing a lungi, an article of clothing probably even more difficult for a Western male to wear than a sari is for a Western woman. A lungi is basically a sarong worn tied around the waist: perfect for hot, humid climates. Some are apparently sewn into a tube, but the ones I've seen are just flat sheets. They are ankle-length, but depending on what the men are doing they will pull up the bottom corners and knot those, making it like a knee-length skirt. My kathakali teacher has said he could never live anywhere else because he can't stand Western style pants. We suggested he look into Scotland and wearing a kilt. Men here also wear dhotis (or mundu in Malayalam), which are difficult to distinguish from lungis. Dhotis are more formal and are the traditional mens attire; I believe they are only meant to be white (lungis come in every color of rainbow and then some, as do all women's clothing).

I should probably get going now. I need to pick up my fancy new choli from the tailor and practice wearing my sari. I could also review my notes from Nisha on the correct way to eat the wedding feast. As Martin observed, "Nisha is a great teacher to have if you are a woman; she teaches you everything you need to know." Of course, I think my lack of a husband and kids concerns her....