We move in a society where a lot of people judge by the way you dress. It’s a bitter pill to swallow but it is true.
One question: aapko kya?
How does someone’s five-digit designer dress or two-digit rag concern you?
Judging others on the basis of what they wear is the lowest blow ever. What if one wears something old hat (you internally reject) but turns out to be the kind and successful person?
What if the girl in the expensive attire turns out to be the most cruel person ever?
I had to quote here:
“Never judge a book by its cover!”
This brings me to a story:
I enter the living room crammed with our ‘oh-so‘ loving family convened for a dinner. I say ‘assalamualaikum’ to everyone but instead of the ‘WaalaikumSalaam‘, all I got stares. Piercing. Bulging . Stares. What feels like after an ordeal of eternity, under-the-breath remarks and stretched fake smiles I am finally awarded a WaAlaikumSalaam. I teeter my way to a seat beside my cousin. I had been chomping at the bits for this particular dinner where I could meet the family in Pakistan after four long years. But the reality had a different scene at play. I engaged in some small talk but wasn’t naïve about the whispers. I knew the whispers were subjected to me but couldn’t pin point my felony. I tracked the pattern of leers and abrupt veers. I knew it was about my attire. I gazed at my attire again. It was a plain white kameez and shalwar which I paired with a red dupatta. After spending a very long time in the States and had come to Pakistan for vacations. Being away from my homeland was not only ineffably hard but also distanced me from my culture. I missed wearing shalwar kameez. One of the perks of getting back was that I could wear according to my culture.
Just when I was looming over the delicious food table, I heard someone aunty say:
‘Yeh isne pehna kya hua hai?’
The other one whispered back:
‘Yeh ayi hai America se?’
I was rooted to my spot. I was shook.
I acted like I did not hear anything but my heartfelt the pang. I was so hurt. I came home early.
The scathing remarks made dwell into a thought process. Where were we all heading?
My thought process was escalated when I attended another cousins meetup. All of them basically hurdled together not to catchup but to discuss who wore what.
My point is everyone has their own taste, comfortability and affordability. One doesn’t need be Instagram aesthetic all the time. It shouldn’t be ‘dress to impress’. Has my sense of dress a harm to you? Has my trite anarkali frock a threat to you? Does it matter?
We are letting so-called ‘standard issues’ create wedges into our loved relations. Why are we embarrassed to introduce our beloved simple friend to our other chic friends? Why do we like angrezi more than Punjabi? Is a wedding including shendi, mehndi, mayoun, nikkah, barat, bridal shower, reception a way to a successful marriage? Why is a shalwar old school but a revealing trouser is not? Why is it prestigious going to a ridiculously expensive school over a madrassa (islamic school)?
And don’t even get me started on designer lehnga.
Our society is singing ‘all that glitters is gold’ like canny. A very few value loyalty and knowledge. It has all become a race. The race of the aesthetic.