Wear your attitude

Whether it is friendship groups or work circles, uniformity in dressing seems to be hard-wired

 

Last week, at an event to felicitate a visiting celebrity chef in Delhi, I found it hard to take my eyes off his shoes. They were standard Converse sneakers, but in a very non-standard colour of parrot green, set off by gleaming white laces, and perfectly embodied his iconoclastic image in the food world. But even as I was admiring them, my eyes were drawn to his staff, following in his wake. Each one of them were wearing the same kind of sneakers, albeit in colours ranging from sherbet pink to bright red. Clearly, this was a look that the entire team, following quite literally in the footsteps of the master, had adopted, presenting a united (in footwear at least) front to the world.

 

I guess I should not have been so surprised. If you pay attention, you see this happening across workplaces. If the boss comes to work wearing handloom saris and chappals, those further down the food chain gravitate towards the same sort of sartorial choices. If the boss rocks a business suit with conservative shoes, then that becomes de rigueur office wear. Nobody really needs to lay down a dress code. Most people tend to conform out of choice, not wanting to stand out by dressing in a more, shall we say, individualistic manner. Of course, there are always exceptions, but as always, they simply exist to reinforce the unwritten, unspoken rule.

 

You could perhaps explain this in a work context, where everyone wants to blend in with the senior staff so that they don’t make any waves. But what accounts for the same phenomenon happening in friendship groups across the board?

 

Take a good look at the bunch of women lunching together at a restaurant. If one of them is wearing a salwar kameez and carrying a giant designer bag, then the odds are that every other woman will be dressed in exactly the same manner. If they are wearing short dresses, then the hemlines across the group will hit the same above-the-knee mark. And you can bet that if one of them has blonde highlights, then so will all of the others.

 

And it’s not just the ladies. The same sort of uniformity can be seen in groups of men as well. If one of them is in a suit, then the others will be just as formally attired. If they are wearing collared T-shirts with jeans, then the look will be adopted by the whole group. It’s almost as if there is a tacit understanding that they must present a united front to the world with a similar choice of outfit.

 

Even people who are not in friendship groups or work situations, will find a common sartorial theme if they have to interact with one another over a period of time. Take a group of mothers who drop off their kids at the school gates every day. They may begin the school term dressing in their individual styles but over a period of time a certain homogeneity will set in, decided by what the alphas in the group are wearing. 

 

I guess at the end of the day, we are all pack animals. And to stay in the pack, it is essential to look like you are part of the pack. And the simplest – and the most visible – way to do that is by wearing your allegiance on your sleeve.

 

You're not wearing that?!

The story of a woman's life retold through the prism of gratuitous fashion advice

It starts soon after birth. Girl babies must be dressed in pink. Their dresses must have plenty of frills and ruffles. A bit of sparkle wouldn't go amiss. And it doesn't matter if the poor mite is virtually bald, stick a shiny headband or a shimmery barrette on for good measure.

Girls, you see, must look like girls. If you must dress them in trousers be sure to slip on a floral T-shirt on top. If you put them in shorts rather than skirts, make sure they are wearing delicate ballerina shoes not sturdy sneakers. And if they are on the beach or at a swimming pool they must wear proper swimsuits, with a bikini top that covers breasts that they haven't yet sprouted.

And from then on, the fashion messaging gets rather relentless. Girls who want to wear jeans and shirts rather than pretty little dresses as they grow into their pre-teens are described indulgently (and sometimes exasperatedly) as 'tomboys'. The subliminal message is that this is a phase they will grow out of, once they have gotten in touch with their femininity. Because this is clearly not how girls are supposed to look.

Teenage brings with it it's own set of rules, depending on where they live. If they live in small towns or in rural India, then this is the time to put away their frocks and skirts and seek shelter in the 'safe' haven of a salwar kameez. If their parents are more 'liberal' than most, then they can wear jeans with a kurta, if it is long enough to cover their derrières. But that's only until they get married. Once they are in their husband's home, the in-laws decide what they get to wear. Salwar kameez or sari. Head covered or uncovered. Goonghat or no ghoonghat.

The fashion lives of urban women are relatively unrestricted -- but only up to a point (at the end of the day, they are 'girls' after all). And so long as their parents, brothers, husbands, in-laws, and larger communities are on board.

So college girls in the major metros can, in theory, wear dresses, skirts, jeans, shorts or whatever the hell they please. There's just one catch. The fashion police that parades every campus, indeed every street, in India must approve. And if they think that tight jeans are 'distracting' or that short skirts are a 'provocation' well then, they wear that kind of stuff at their own peril.

In fact, as girls grow into women, it is quite amazing just how many fashion choices come attached with a tag titled 'Asking For It'. That sleeveless top tucked into the waistband of your trousers; that sari blouse tied across your back with a couple of strings; that skirt that rides up your thighs when you sit down or cross your legs; the leggings that show off the shape of your posterior; the dress that reveals cleavage when you bend down; or even the otherwise staid sari that shows off your midriff and stomach. No matter what your choice of outfit and which body part it exposes (or conceals), there is always a good chance that you are 'asking for it'.

What did you say? What are these women 'asking for'? Well, that depends. It could be anything from being cat called on the street, being followed home by putative stalkers, being groped in buses, marketplaces or on the Metro. And that's if they are lucky. If they aren't, they could even be 'asking for' being molested, or even raped by hapless men who have been so thoroughly 'provoked' that they can't be held responsible for their actions.

This scenario gets even more complicated if you bring the entire world into the mix. You can't wear bikinis in Iran. You can't wear burkinis in France. You can't leave your head uncovered in Saudi Arabia. You can't cover your face in Belgium. And so on and on and on.

Nor does it get any better as women get older. They might think that they have now passed the stage of being seen as sexual beings. And that they can now relax and wear whatever the hell they want. Well if they do, they have another think coming.

Once they are in their 40s, the fashion advice comes couched in 'mutton dressed as lamb' terms (sometimes from their own daughters who scoff: "Are you really going out in that?"). Anything above the knee is a strict no-no. Tight trousers or dresses are seen as a dodgy choice. And bare upper arms or a dash of cleavage invites exhortations of "Just put it away, dear!"

Even when women are post-menopausal or well into their 60s and 70s, the gratuitous tips doesn't cease. And in India, it gets particularly intrusive if they are widows. Don't wear bright colors. Don't use so much makeup. And is that bindi really a good idea? In fact, the style rules still apply even when they are dead: a red sari for the pyre if her husband survives her; a white one if she is a widow.

As far as dress codes go, there's none quite as stringent as the ones prescribed for women: from the moment they enter this world to the time they depart it.

This really is a life-long service. And it matters little that you didn't sign up for it.

Best foot forward

A flat-out refusal to heels is the way to go, ladies

What would you do if you turned up at work and were told to change out of your flat shoes and wear a pair that had a two-inch (at least) heel? Of course, if you are a man then the question doesn't apply because you would never be asked to do anything so silly in the first place. But if you are a woman and work, say, in a corporate office, a hotel, a restaurant or even an airline, would you accede to such a request because it was what was expected of female employees?

Would you trot off and find a pair with a heel and slip it on meekly? Or would you stand up for your right to wear any kind of shoe you bloody well like?

I only ask because a 27 year old called Nicola Thorp found herself in exactly this predicament when she reported for her temp job as a receptionist at the London office of PricewaterhouseCoopers (PwC). Her employment agency said that her flat shoes were unacceptable. She had to go off and buy a pair of shoes with heels at least two inches high and change into them. Thorp refused. So, the agency sent her home and refused to pay her for the day.

But while the rest of us would have vented on Twitter and called it a day, Thorp was made of sterner stuff. She launched a petition asking that it be made illegal to ask women to wear high heels at the workplace. In 48 hours the petition has chalked up 110,000 signatures, enough to get the subject debated in the House of Commons and a law passed so that no employer in the future can get away with such sexist demands of its female workforce.

Such strict grooming requirements are relatively rare in India. But a few years ago, when Delhi's new international airport opened, with its long walkways from check-in to boarding, I was appalled to see the female ground staff of one particular airline (which shall remain nameless) negotiating that distance on heels.

Why, I asked one young woman, was she wearing heels? Surely, flats made much more sense given that she probably chalked up 10 to 15 kilometers on a regular shift.

Yes, she agreed. But the uniform rules stated that female employees must wear heels, so she had no choice in the matter.

I was so appalled by this that I wrote a column the next week (Running in heels, Brunch, August 2010) about how unfair it was to discriminate against women employees in this manner. Men could go about their jobs in comfortable shoes, while the women had to teeter around on high heels. How was this fair?

A few months later, when I travelled by that airline again, I found that the ladies were in flats. The uniform rules had been changed. And while I wouldn't dream of claiming credit for that change, I would like to believe that my voice among the chorus of complaints mattered.

See, that's the problem. Too many of us are only too happy to follow the rule (unwritten or spelt out) that to look properly 'groomed' women must wear high heels. So much so that we have even conditioned ourselves to believe that we are not really ready to face the world until we have a pair of heels on to bolster both our height and our self-confidence.

Not that I am one to talk. I spent my entire 20s and my early 30s in heels even though there was no dress code that forced me to do so. I voluntarily embraced this world of pain, telling myself (and my aching feet) that this was what being a successful professional was all about: looking the part. It didn't help that I was short, so I needed the morale boost (quite literally) that high heels provided.

I, at least, had the excuse that I was short. But even my tall willowy friends embraced heels, simply because that was what you did. You wore heels to work and high heels to party because -- or so we were conditioned to believe -- that made us look more attractive.

It was only once I was comfortable in my own skin (and very uncomfortable in my heels) in my mid 30s that I finally had the confidence to vote with my feet and simply say no to heels. I stood tall enough in my own estimation. And I didn't care if I fell short of the beauty standards imposed on women across the world.

Today, I am happy to report that the rebellion against high heels is apace. Earlier this month Julia Roberts walked barefoot on the red carpet at the Cannes Film Festival. This was noteworthy because last year at Cannes some women had been turned away from the red carpet because they were wearing flats. The dress code, they were told sternly, specified heels.

Well, try telling that to Julia, guys! She couldn't give a hoot as she threw off her shoes and sashayed across the red carpet in bare feet, giving the proverbial finger to the powers-that-be at Cannes in the process.

At this point, I am sure that there are many women out there who are preparing to mail or tweet me about they feel more powerful, even more empowered, with their heels on. Okay, ladies, just drop me a line five years down the line when your backs are whacked and your bunions have set your feet aflame and tell me how powerful and empowered you feel now. And then, we'll talk.

Wear your attitude!

Decoding the dress codes on the campaign trail…

Now that the elections are done and dusted, and we have a new government in place, I thought it might be fun to look back and see how some of the most high-profile candidates presented themselves to the public. No, not in terms of policies and political statements; that’s been done to death by leader writers in all the newspapers and by anchors on every TV news channel. But in terms of visual image: how they dressed on the campaign trail, and what they hoped to subliminally communicate by their wardrobe choices.

So here, in no particular order of importance, are just some examples:

• Narendra Modi: As he confessed on television recently, our newly-minted Prime Minister has a great feel for colour combinations and what works on him. And on the campaign trail he seemed to have taken a leaf out of the style book of Queen Elizabeth, who always appears in strong primary colours to stand out in a crowd. Working colour blocking like a fashion pro, Modi went from one public meeting to another, resplendent in green, orange, pink, yellow, and every other colour you could think of. And then, towards the end of his campaign, he reverted to the symbolic purity of white, wearing a large kamal ka phool on his kurta, so that his supporters knew exactly which button to press on the EVM.
• Rahul Gandhi: He decided to go for the scruffy, unwashed look, with crumpled kurta pyjamas and a perma-stubble, perhaps to indicate that he was far too busy campaigning to bother with personal grooming. And his sleeveless jacket achieved international acclaim thanks to British comedian John Oliver’s spiel on the Indian elections. “Look at that vest!” exclaimed Oliver about Rahul, “He’s like an Indian Han Solo!”
• Smriti Irani: Pitted against Rahul in Amethi, the country’s favourite bahu, Smriti Irani, made saffron her calling card, wearing saris in the colours of her party’s flag (though to the disappointment of many, she did not adopt the seedha pallav as her character Tulsi had done in Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi, in deference to her leader’s Gujarati roots) as she went from village to village canvassing for votes, and giving Rahul Gandhi a good scare in the bargain.
• Priyanka Gandhi: Running her mother and brother’s campaign in Rae Bareli and Amethi, Priyanka seemed to be channeling the spirit of her grandmother, Indira, in her handloom saris, half-sleeve blouses, and tousled, curly, close-cropped hair. Did the sartorial messaging work? Well, both candidates won, in the face of a ‘Modi wave’.
• Arvind Kejriwal: I can’t have been the only one disappointed by the fact that the weather did not allow the AAP leader to sport his patented look of muffler plus cap in the style of Emirates air-hostesses. Instead, he had to content himself with playing the aam aadmi in a white shirt-brown trousers combination and the standard-issue white cap that announced that he wanted ‘purna swaraj’. But, as it turned out, the voters wanted ‘Modi sarkar’.
• Mamata Banerjee: She stuck to the tried-and-tested crumpled cotton sari look which proclaimed her as a woman of the people (or peepuls, as she would have it), even as she spewed fire and venom against her opponents (read Narendra Modi). And when the votes were finally counted, the people proved to be the woman’s.
• Moon Moon Sen: She put a healthy dose of glamour into the campaign, resplendent in her chiffon saris, with darkly-kohled eyes and an oversized bindi large enough to put Usha Uthup to shame. And even as everyone was dismissing her as a lightweight airhead, a complete misfit in electoral politics, she had the last laugh, winning the Bankura seat with ease.
• Nandan Nilekani: True to form, the IT whizkid refused to conform. Not for him the regulation white kurta pjyama, the uniform that all politicians willy-nilly adopt. Nilekani stuck to his lightly-starched white shirts paired with loose trousers on the campaign trail. And even though he lost the election, his fresh, unconventional approach to politics won him many admirers.
• Shashi Tharoor: Even though he is, like Nilekani, a recent entrant into politics, Tharoor chose to stick to the classic simplicity of a white kurta, though he teamed it with the Malayali mundu rather than the north Indian churidar in a nod to local sentiments. Topping it all was a tricolour shawl, to reference both his party colours and the Indian flag.
• Gul Panag: She was my personal favourite, bravely refusing to give in to the politically correct demand of wearing traditional Indian clothes while on the campaign trail. Panag stuck to her blue jeans and short kurtas, though she did drape a dupatta around her neck occasionally to keep the more conservative folk happy. And best of all, she went campaigning on her Enfield motorbike, helmet and aviators firmly in place. What’s not to love?