I had fever yesterday and also a terrible bodyache. My deep distrust of Big Pharma and allopathic medicines led me to consider alternatives.
As far as alternatives go, I turned to pretty clothes. So I wore a pleated skirt in dull gold that my mother had sent me last month. I wore that with a black turtleneck that I had picked up at a sale many moons ago. It was from the brand, "W" and cost under 300 rupees. The skirt, though, is from AND and I don't know how much my mother paid for it.
My mother has beautiful taste in everything. Now that she is in hospital, I often wear the clothes that she has bought for me. I think I looked quite nice in that skirt that had accordian pleats and fell with a fluidity in metallic dull gold like a sunset in a very calm lake that was caressed by the wind ever so gently. I love skirts, dresses, ana saris, (or anything with drapes and folds) for that reason - they convey a sense of poetry and song that the structured silhouettes of pants and trousers don't.
The skirt is one reason I often think of my mother's taste. What makes her taste so good? I feel that she meshes a realistic understanding of a reality with a somewhat optimistic outlook of the potential. Like pleats are normally not so great for women with hips. And dull gold seems to be suited for someone with an aura of quiet glamour. Now I do have hips and I don't think I am glamorous. But when I wore that outfit, I did look like someone who would have a set of mauve, monogrammed letter paper somewhere.
The matter of taste is something I am thinking about more carefully, now that I intend to exclusively wear what my mum has bought for me.
As far as alternatives go, I turned to pretty clothes. So I wore a pleated skirt in dull gold that my mother had sent me last month. I wore that with a black turtleneck that I had picked up at a sale many moons ago. It was from the brand, "W" and cost under 300 rupees. The skirt, though, is from AND and I don't know how much my mother paid for it.
My mother has beautiful taste in everything. Now that she is in hospital, I often wear the clothes that she has bought for me. I think I looked quite nice in that skirt that had accordian pleats and fell with a fluidity in metallic dull gold like a sunset in a very calm lake that was caressed by the wind ever so gently. I love skirts, dresses, ana saris, (or anything with drapes and folds) for that reason - they convey a sense of poetry and song that the structured silhouettes of pants and trousers don't.
The skirt is one reason I often think of my mother's taste. What makes her taste so good? I feel that she meshes a realistic understanding of a reality with a somewhat optimistic outlook of the potential. Like pleats are normally not so great for women with hips. And dull gold seems to be suited for someone with an aura of quiet glamour. Now I do have hips and I don't think I am glamorous. But when I wore that outfit, I did look like someone who would have a set of mauve, monogrammed letter paper somewhere.
The matter of taste is something I am thinking about more carefully, now that I intend to exclusively wear what my mum has bought for me.
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