Sunday, May 21, 2006

Trousseau shopping

So, S and I decided we want to have a traditional engagement ceremony before his parents move to the States, which has thrilled mum-in-law-to-be to no end. And, though we don't plan on having the celebration until September, we're already talking clothes, food, magnitude of event.

Yesterday, S and I hit South Ex to start checking things out. The big question now is, Indian wear or Western wear? We examined Deepson's and Benetton, designer duds by Rina Dhaka and company, and weighed them against more understated basics from ColorPlus. I secretly covet Indian designs, but I know how out of place white women can look in them, all elbows and sucked in stomach and pallid countenance. Usually I hate fripperies like this, but there's something oddly satisfying about being such a base consumer, caring not about price tags (thanks, fam-to-be!) but about the impression my magnificent rags will have upon the extended Punjabi family I am about to enter.

But after tromping through the stores, fingering fine silks and ostentatious organzas, S and I were still noncommittal; and I can hardly fathom spending hundreds of dollars on a garish get up I'll wear only once before consigning, sheathed in plastic, to the upper reaches of my cupboard. So he turned to me: "Fab India?"

It's hardly the "Rs 13,000 to an obscene amount that cannot be mentioned" Times of India's wedding supplement suggests today, but it's honest. It's comfortable. It's simple and understated and yet it's fabulous; "sequins and hand embroidery and lots of lace and net" be damned.

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