The final leg of my career was in Chennai, where I continued to offend people’s fashion sensibilities with my tucking-in style. By this time, my elder son had bought me ready-made clothes, including shirts from the USA, which I’ve mentioned earlier. Whether they fit well or not, I got used to them. Here’s the funny part: after retirement, during our visits to the USA, this kind of formal dress was quite rare. After flaunting my newfound enthusiasm for formal dressing, I happily reverted to my full pants and half-sleeved shirts, eventually graduating to semi-formal pants and T-shirts. Thank goodness! T-shirts didn’t look utterly unsuitable on me.

Just as I was getting quasi-comfortable with the uncomfortable full shirts and tucked-in look, I had to change abruptly to something else. It wasn’t shocking, just a bit of a detour.

Throughout our first visit to the USA, having packed only formal attire, I mostly stuck to those, except for the occasional—and dreaded—half-pants. One of my son’s friends had gifted him cargo pants—no, not cargoes but actual cargo pants. My elder son, who is tall, and my younger son, who is even taller, found that the pants barely reached the ankle. They nudged me to try them on. Short of looking like a goon, I wore them whenever possible. Being made of thick material, the creases never stayed sharp. I kept ironing them anyway, as creases in shirts or pants were my personal standard. Crumpled clothes were anathema to me, but oddly, those crumples looked great on people who wore them. Beauty, I suppose, lies in the details.

I am from the Iron Age when it comes to clothing terminology: half pants, full pants, half shirts, full shirts—that was it. Now, I found myself in a complex world with unfamiliar terms like semi-formals, casuals, chinos, jeans, carpenters (with a hundred pockets that no one ever used), cargoes, and Bermudas—which I initially thought was just a remote place somewhere in the world. Then there were those pants that looked intentionally torn, with hanging threads. I knew about suits, but then there were tuxedos, double-breasted jackets, and more. And materials—so many! I was familiar only with cotton and terylene, but now there were pre-shrunk cotton, viscose, wool, linen (is it even possible to wear an uncrumpled linen shirt or pants?), and many others. One thing always confuses me—though confusion is no stranger to me—why do so many shopkeepers and salesmen pronounce linen as “llenin”?

As for women’s fashion, that’s entirely beyond my comprehension. On a visit to Jaipur and Udaipur, one of the shopkeepers showed us sarees made from banana skin and seethaphal (custard apple) fibers.

There was a time when people chased after nylon, terylene, terricot, and synthetic fabrics, moving away from the comfort of cotton. And now? We’ve made a full circle back to cotton. Which, honestly, is a good thing.

Continued in 96. Sartorial Suffocations - Part 5