|Home | Issues | The Daily Star Home | Volume 4, Issue 32, Tuesday August 14 , 2007|
1. Do you buy tons of magazines just to look up the latest trends in fashion? You flick through the pages just to pick up the newest fad. We all do. But if you are a real fashion casualty then you will take it one step further. You will have to walk the walk. You will run out with the glossy pictures to find out if you can get anything similar in your favourite fashion outlets. The colours, shapes and textures must all match. If you are not one of those people, then you probably will just have a look and let it pass, or ridicule and laugh at the absurd trends.
2. Do you buy only the current fashion colours? Palette is one of the most important elements for fashion collections. Die-hard fashionistas vouch by the seasonal fashion stories. In every season, cat walks around the globe show a whole range of colours and not all take off but some receive a great deal of response and are bombarded onto the pages of the internet, paper media and so on. Soon they are considered hot. It could be emerald green or scarlet red or salmon pink. These are then absorbed into collections from the top atelier to the basic high street shop. Shoes, bags, accessories and almost all fashion items are then produced in identical shades to match that particular colour. It is not so apparent here in Bangladesh yet. But in many fashion capitals around the world, whether in Asia, Europe or in North America, colour stories create a clear direction. Personally, most of the time I am not very convinced, although there are occasions when I too will pick up a few pieces. A true casualty will go out, do a killing of an entire gamut of goods in these hot and happening fashion colours which will only last a season or two. Most of the time it is chucked out sooner than you can say boring.
3. You are a fashion victim if you are wearing the latest styles regardless of whether it matches your physical structure or not. Let's say at the moment peasant and baby doll shapes are big. I can assure you these are not your typical slimming shapes contrary to popular believe. The square neckline, the gathered blouson, and umpire waist are not going to hide your belly, instead they will make you look even bigger. They need bony people to carry off such styles. You are clearly a casualty of fashion if you must wear something just because everyone else is seen in one.
4. Fashion is all about making a statement especially if you are duped by its glamour. You must wear the right front or back neckline dropped way below your shoulder blades touching almost your waistline even if your love handles are being displayed to the world. You will also continue to wear your sari under your hip line even if all your stretch marks are showing.
It may be fashionable but not very pleasing to the eyes. To those who fall prey to fashion, every thing else is secondary and what counts is if you are right on with the scene or not.
5. Don't forget fashion is all about your head too. It is not just about your clothes and your accessories. It's about you. You are in control. Hair is one of the most important elements of your body in fashion terms.
Short, long, curls, flat, red, blonde or brunette or sometimes all at the same time. There are so many options and so many more possibilities. What is in today will go out the next day. The lost fashionistas will experiment with their hair like there's no tomorrow.
6. In the West people change their body parts to match their favourite stars-a highly sought after look. It has become fairly a common practice. Lips, nose and eyes are probably the first matches. It is no wonder that a small city like Beverly Hills boasts over five hundred plastic surgeons.
Think again, if you believe this will not be a global phenomenon. Already places like Bombay and Bangkok have a good share of followers who are going under the knife. If you are thinking of such extreme measures then you may be considered a fashion casualty with very low esteem. Without trying to be too judgmental I would like to advise you all that instead of trying to look like some one you admire, try to work on your own spirit and soul. You will feel better and indeed look better too.
Under A Different Sky
By Iffat Nawaz
Days go by and I am untouched, disconnected. I don't' even long for them anymore, because I know to long them will bring nostalgia, will bring dissatisfaction, tears…
It's not like I don't sit down with a cup of tea and stare out of the window and talk away; not on the phone, not on the net, but with a real person in front of me. I do have that someone to tell all…but there are others, those old connections, from early days; early days of discovering me and my surroundings. Days when my ideas seemed like the first of their kind and the last. And the ones who listened understood and were awed and I was awed about what they told me…their thoughts, their lingoes, their individualities.
But I have lost them all, in the process of trying to see if my ideas would prove themselves. But all the ideas died one by one, clichés they became and when I looked around to tell them my sorrow, they were gone- in their own world, in different continents, under different roofs, holes, wells, and under different stars.
I used to write letters once upon a time, long ones. I had a terrible hand writing. My parents, well especially my mother, made me practice my Bangla and English hand writing over and over again. In class 2 we had a hand writing book called “Desk Top” with cartoonish pictures of obedient boys and girls studying soundly. And I wrote and wrote and wrote, trying to get my I, F, F, A and T perfect, but it didn't work. As soon as my mind was allowed to be free I wrote away in my own cryptic letters. I think I took secret pride in having such a bad handwriting. That was my identity, my one wanna-be rebel against the system subconscious decision, or maybe I am trying to use it now to seem cooler than I really was as a 6 year old.
But I did write letters; to them, my old friends, the ones I could sit with and talk to for hours, one on one. And even today when I see them, after travelling continents, many jet lags and chaa cups later, when I finally feel like myself, and my familiarity surrounds me… and they are there, under the same moon, each one of them, in their own way, with different faces, with different ideas…not as new but still unique.
I don't write letters anymore, long emails are even harder to come by, travelling to see them is becoming less and less an option, they are everywhere so which way do I go? North, South, East or West? I settle for no old connections.
But then suddenly there are those days, those days, which start off like any other days when beside a few small conversations I mostly remain a silent name on my chat window. But in these days, something else happens. As if the sun and the moon and the stars line up and I end up feeling them, in a small box, with typed words where no bad handwriting is an option. And we sit and talk as if we were 5, 15, 25 and now 29. We connect through modern technology, where many unknowns meet and us known reunite.
And I read their words, and tell my stories really fast while all my work is set aside for the next hour, because those moments don't come often. In that small chat box, all those feelings, all those tales, all that amity, but when it happens I recognise again what connection means, like a cliché once again, without bad hand writing, voices and bodies, just words to satisfy that insatiable hunger.
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