while living here, confined largely to the side of a mountain, it can be very difficult, actually, near to impossible, to keep up with the latest trends in western fashion..luckily, thanks to the magnificent skill of locals, i am able to find ways to keep things innovative and fresh when it comes to clothing...there really is nothing like tailor made.
it's almost mind blowing to think about how easy it can be to purchase items, having no clue where they came from, or the process it took to get them on the shelf. how many times have you thought about how many stitches went into a particular shirt, or who dyed the fabric of a certain skirt? here in mussoorie there is no wondering; if you have the time, you can watch the entire process unfold before your eyes. you pay for the labor, knowing that your money is going straight to the source, no middleman involved.
first on the frequented list is the shoe man. while we have a major language barrier, this man is my favorite, and i have spent many an afternoon in his stifling tiny shop absolutely fascinated, watching the work that goes into crafting a single shoe. he can make a masterpiece out of a simple sketch, a printout from a website, or copy any shoe you might throw his way (chacos included).. i recently had a pair of boots copied from a very ridiculously expensive company for literally 1/4 of the price and they are perfectly fit for my foot and leg..it doesn't get much better than that.
this weekend, a friend was talking about how whenever she is having a bad day and feeling homesick, she goes and gets her favorite blouse copied..she is up to 12 different versions so far. it is brilliant the way it all works; you first go to the fabric man and decide how many meters you need, purchase it then bring it to the tailor. there you describe, draw, or bring in the copy of what you want done, they take your measurements and woolah, the new piece is ready to go by the next week...well, depending on the reliability of the tailor on that given week...all the stress of going to a badly lit, obnoxiously crowded and nearly unmanageable store jacked up on caffeine to make it through the journey is completely obliterated.
the blacksmiths of the town are also quite the artists and willing to construct whatever you might throw their way, all from their roadside shack.
the hardwork and diligence of these locals keeps me sane. while they might think i am a bit over the top and wonder about the ridiculous items i ask them to craft, they work with a smile on their face and a cup of chai in hand, content and happy with the simple pleasures in life.
this weekend was quite possibly the most insane weekend yet here in india. we decided to take a housemate trip to rishikesh to celebrate holi, the hindu festival of color. the basis of the festival is fascinating- celebrating the coming of spring, the full moon and the burning of hate. majority of the festival involved throwing various colors of powder at one another, as well as HARD water balloons (nan's neck may never be the same from a brutal sneak attack), dumping water buckets and dye, eating pakoras, drinking heavily and dancing (i may or may not have danced on a sadhu. TWICE). i really can't think of a way a festival could be more of a rocking party. being white westerners, it is probably an understatement to say that we were targeted and hit more than most.. the indians call it playing holi and well, we played hard.
OH.. i still am pink. especially my hair and ears. today my students thought i didnt realize this fact. about every five minutes (seriously) i heard 'ms shriver, you're all pink!......thank you woodstock youth. you are brilliant minds of the future...
