Per-fect [adj., n. Pur-fikt;
v. Per-fekt] – (meaning - adjective) Conforming absolutely to the description
of an ideal type: a perfect sphere; a perfect gentleman.
When I set off looking for a lehenga to drape myself in on the big day, I knew that the search
would not be simple. With a million specifications on my mind, I readied myself
for several days of scrounging. My thoughts were validated when 4 full days
were spent roaming the streets of Delhi, with my mom and grandmom, rejecting
one dress after another. A conservative estimate of the number of lehengas that I rejected in this period
must be over 150. No, I am not kidding or exaggerating. I just could not find
the ‘perfect’ dress.
The hunt for the white tiger (red in my case, and it was as
rare as one) began with me checking out lighter versions of the lehenga thinking they would suit me
well. Just on Day 1, I even settled for a simple red one that looked plain and
elegant. But upon the suggestions given by my folks, I didn’t finalize it right
then and decided to look more before making up my mind. Brain trap. Once I got
home, plain Jane was replaced by Julia Roberts. First stop, Facebook. To check
out what my friends had worn on their big days. Second step, calls. I called
all of those friends and enquired about where they did their shopping. Third
step, physical inspection. Physically visiting all the suggested showrooms and
checking out the competition. End result – unimpressed.
Turns out as you inflate your permissible budget, the more
superior the lehengas start looking.
Practical pundits said don’t spend
too much on it cause most girls don’t end up wearing their wedding lehenga more than once. I promised then
that I would wear it as many times as the number of thousands in its amount. Example:
if it costs 20k, I’d wear it at least 20 times. My mother knowingly sniggered.
I don’t think she believed me even for a second.
Designers aren’t my thing. Niche clothes are for the nouveau-riche and
not for me. Nor do I want to be unconventionally different on stage. Specially when
convention finds acceptability and can still make pretty brides look 10 times
prettier if dressed properly. My choice – an apple red lehenga. No less and certainly no more.
An interesting trend in bridal lehenga retailing is making you stand on a raised platform in front
of a full-length mirror and draping you in the dress you like. A smart
marketing move is to allow you to admire yourself vainly and endlessly in the
mirror, while the shopkeeper piles heaps of praises on you from behind. You are
invariably forced to gloat in megalomania. My mom and grandmom spoilt me more
by adding personal and very touching compliments of their own. One shopkeeper
who was trying to sell us a big consignment even went on to say that I looked
great in everything and hence I should buy everything that I tried! Flattered
and touché, oh amen man.
After several rounds of playing the mannequin and obsessing
over pictures that my mother clicked of me in these clothes (some secretly and
some openly) to assess what suited me more, the breakthrough happened on Day 4.
I found the ‘one’ that appealed to me at the first glance. From where? Well
that’s a secret. If you are invited to my wedding, you will find out soon
enough. Price? Enough for me to not be able to keep my ‘I’ll wear it as many
times as the grands that it costs’ promise. Colour? Well now that was a
problem. Maroon and green is what was shown to me and that is what I liked. But
I originally just wanted a red lehenga. Decision?
To get it made it red. Time? One month from the day of placing the order L
Yes, I continue to endure as my lehenga gets sewed/stitched/whatever-they-do
somewhere in Delhi. I wait and keep my
fingers crossed that the colour change doesn't make the end-product look odd.
The design? Non-complicated but still sufficiently heavy. Net, zircon,
brocade, embroidery, et al. Will make for better pictures. But can I see my
baby? Not yet L The
wait continues.
