It's A Wrap - Shopping For Saris

"Incredible India" as the slogan goes...is a burst of color swirling against a backdrop of sounds and smells - vibrant and alive. Your senses - all of them -  can be so engaged that it literally will make your head spin. And if India is colorful, which it most assuredly is, then I would contend that it is the saree or sari that serves as palette and brush. Bright, bold, soft, somber, abstract, floral, elegant, jewel encrusted, beaded, flowing encasing the life-force that pulses through the country. As ethnic clothing goes, the sari is perhaps one of the most singularly identifiable wardrobe items in the world and I must say that there is nothing else makes you feel quite as regal. But to say sari and mean only one thing is a discredit to the garment because it can literally be worn dozens upon dozens of ways...or so it would seem.

I had the wonderful privilege of going sari shopping with two of my dear Indian friends recently. To say I was unprepared for the experience would be an understatement. Having lived in India now for a few months, I had already adjusted my mindset when shopping for things like jewelry. When you enter a jewelry store in India you do not wander around per se and peruse the cases. You sit, are offered refreshments, and salespeople scurry around and bring anything you might be interested in or would like you to see. The same thing, with a few exceptions, happens when you go sari shopping. You enter a store which is usually lined with shelves (floor to ceiling) all the way around the store. You sit and tell the waiting salespeople what you are seeking. For example, you may be looking to purchase a sari for a particular function or perhaps you are just looking for the latest trends. Whatever it is, salespeople scurry off in various directions (unless you have the foresight to sit right in front of the shelves holding the type of sari you desire). Baskin Robbins has NOTHING on this process...to say that every color configuration is available is a gross understatement. Not only are all the various color combinations available, they are frequently available in two or three varieties of material from silk to cotton-silk to brocade to banana fiber-silk to jute...no really.

Once you have told the salesperson what you are looking for the unfurling of the the most spectacular array of colors and textures begins. Now as I was not the primary customer for this expedition, I had the luxury of sitting back and watching the whole production. A series of interjections praising the option or directing a minor adjustment to the request begins, interspersed with a distinctive shaking of the head or a head bob to indicate that the offering could be added to the stack of "maybes" already beginning to grow at the edge of the counter. As the options are depleted, the next phase of more closely examining the "maybes" stack begins. A salesgirl is summoned and my friend takes her place in front of a full-length mirror to have the various choices draped (as in wrapped like a finished sari so as to provide the customer a sense of what the finished product would look like) for her review. By way of clarification, when you go shopping for saris in this fashion it is important to know that is literally 5 to 9 yards of material (depending on the draping). Within the length of that material is not only the sari itself, but also material for the accompanying blouse...an either matching or contrasting material. Once purchased, you haul your treasure to your favorite tailor and voila...insta-sari. Well, sort of. After the accompanying blouse is made, then comes the process of wrapping, tucking, pleating and draping. The resulting ensemble is quite beautiful. By way of a quick history lesson, the Indian sari is believed to be the oldest "non-stitched" garment. While getting the hang of actually wearing one takes some practice, they are not only extraordinarily versatile, but comfortable as well.

My friend did not find precisely what she was looking for, so all eyes turned to me. Luckily, as I was leaving the house that morning, my amazing housekeeper Lakshmi suggested that I should really look at a black sari. She said you never know when you might need something formal for a wedding or an event here in India. It is also important to note that I'm of Scottish descent. This matters for two reasons. First, I have red hair which translates to no "pink," ever. Second, I am very fair skinned and therefore gray and silver have a tendency to make me look like I am headed to a morgue instead of whatever festivities may be looming. So I made my request of the salespeople and a new round of scurrying occurred. Despite my very best efforts to explain the "no pink" scenario at least a half dozen options were presented with the most vibrant of raspberry or fuchsia. I finally had to resort to holding the offending color up to my hair which resulted in much intake a breath, head bobbing and a chorus of "no madams," so I felt confident they had finally received the message. Finally, two very beautiful black sari options were presented. The first with a stunning temple border and the second with a contrasting cranberry pattern on the body, which repeated to the paloo  (the piece that traditionally drapes across your arm). With those two options at my disposal, the salesgirl was summoned and I dutifully placed myself in front of the full-length mirror to examine how the finished product might look. While I really did think the temple border was beautiful, the second option was absolutely breathtaking.

This is a temple border:

Happily I purchased my sari and can't wait to have it made. The whole experience was rather amazing and was such a contrast to purchasing clothes from a western retailer. Do not misunderstand, Indian fashion is as cutting edge and hip as any culture in the world, perhaps in some ways more so. But the idea of purchasing clothes from a very limited seasonal palate seems so mundane now, so contrived. I may never look at clothing the same way. After all, why color with 4 pre-approved crayons when you can have the big box and pick what pleases you?

Lakshmi and me:

My friend Shirin did eventually find the sari she wanted, lovely isn't it?