When Zara opened in Bangalore, there was not a single crimp in any fashionista's hair (so yesterday). I had been feeling a tad low myself since I lead a solitary life and talking in your own head does begin to pall after a bit. I usually submerge my angst with shopping, as people do, but it's hard to sublimate when you live in a small town. You know what that means: You end by dressing in what you can get, not what defines you. So there hang the drab tunics and unflattering shirts, the maxis that do nothing for your height, the jeans that make you look like you're competing with a tree trunk...you get the picture.
As I walked through Zara at Phoenix Mall which is slap-bang in the middle of nowhere, I did wonder why the law of location, location etc had not impinged on the developers. Nonetheless, I felt like a line from Jerry Maguire, of the 'You complete me' variety, on sighting a veritable fashion wonderland. Roomy totes, striped Tees, cigarette pants with outer zipper details, suede pumps, snakeskin-print shirts, hats which remind you of Faye Dunaway....had I died and gone to live in Kate Moss' wardrobe or what. But hang on, why didn't they have sizes in the half-dozen outfits I wanted? And where was the red and black booties and block-colour Tees I saw on the Zara India site? Oh no, the horrible truth dawned. It was Zara India, not Zara Bangalore they were advertising. Talk about a shock to the system. Obviously, the stocks are in Delhi and Bombay and if you spent one hour to reach Phoenix Mall as I did, do follow the Girl Guide motto: Be Prepared. The heartbreak will be so much less.
Well, never let it be said that I let the details stand in my way. I bought the snakeskin-print shirt and a pair of delectable pink ballerinas with diamante bows. I had to. As a kindred soul sitting thousands of miles away said in her scrumptious blog Fashion Foie Gras, next to a photo of an admittedly divine zebra-print skirt:
“If I don't own this skirt next season I won't be able to continue on with life!”
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