The Flattering Power of Sari

At 2:00 a.m. in the Delhi airport, India I saw more sequence and glitter than in my entire life.

With my husband we had just arrived in India for business and were awaiting our first domestic flight to Chennai. I was trying to get some sleep on the side of the  bench surrounding  octagonal pillar; my head was close to a turban of a tiny old man, my feet - to a family of three (they were using their side of the bench in turn). 

Women in saris were coming and going – old and young, slim and not.  I was practically screaming ‘look at this!’ at every passing gown. There was not even one sari that I liked less - each and every of them looked amazing!

My husband completely agreed with me on that.

The vibrancy of colors, often calculatedly matching, but also in bold combinations (for example, a yellow blouse,  dark blue sari with magenta-and-gold  borders) and large number of bracelets, anklets and necklaces made me think that we had arrived at the advent of a major national holiday.

But I was wrong. This was totally casual attire of an Indian woman.

Later I saw ladies in sari in offices and café', on motorcycles (behind the driver, or as a driver) looking very comfortable and at ease in their elaborate gowns and jewelry.  Not just a few women, but most of them. It was an apparent dress code.

Now I had a chance to look closely and here are my findings:

Sari is the most strategic and universally flattering gown in the world. The young proportionate woman looks a goddess in it. But all the rest of us – short, heavy, bowlegged – somehow appear very dignified (and pretty too).

The reason, besides glitter, is a variety of strategic folds and angles at which  fabric is draped.

Two embellished borders of a sari cross the body in front: the inner border comes across the chest; it accents the X shape and makes  shoulder line stronger and wider thus giving the figure better proportion. The outside border starts in front  below the hip. This one crosses the entire body at a long diagonal, visually slimming it and making legs look longer. Not too bad, a?

Then, there is a folding gathered at the waist and strategically positioned slightly off-center. This folding keeps  fabric at the woman’s tummy perfectly loose, making the entire ‘tummy issue’ irrelevant.

There are no protruding female tummies in India!

It made me wonder of the advantages of growing up and never giving yourself a judging side-ways look into the mirror followed by sucking your stomach up hard, and then, as long as you can manage without breathing, watching it perfectly flat, hoping it stayed that way…

Apparently Indian teenagers are free from such experiences; their mothers and grandmothers – as well.

And I am not finished with the folding yet. When a woman moves folded fabric precedes her every step framing her foot like a long conical bell or fan. The leg underneath seems endless and its movement – regal. No wonder, high heels are not popular in India. Who needs them when such gracefulness can be achieved in flip-flops!

I could not help myself comparing the flattering power of sari to our western clothes and must admit that we are at disadvantage here. If I can trust my travel observations few women look good in  business suit. It makes us bulky on the top and shows no mercy to our ‘normal’ bottoms by exposing imperfect width or shape of our hips, those treacherously protruding stomachs and true length (or should I say, shortness) of our legs. We try to compensate for all this cruelty by good,  expensive fabrics and muted 'earthy' colors.

But next to a woman in sari we look like little grey hens near a peacock.

During our visit to a construction company in Delhi, my husband and I passed a young female worker carrying a cement block on her head. She was wearing a cotton gauze green-and-indigo sari smartly tacked for convenience.

-  Look at this gorgeous thing - I said to my husband, - I would've loved to have it for a very special occasion!

-  What, a cement block?