By Laila Tyabji
The eighth in our series on why women wear what they wear to work. Read parts one, two, three four, five, six and seven.
For decades, I wore everything — bikinis, bell-bottoms, and bermuda shorts, and kurtas, kaftans and culottes. Pherans and wraparounds. Everything except dresses, which were a bit of a no-no in my time, in the 60s and 70s. I designed, sewed, and embroidered my own clothes, and was particularly fond of lungis with little skimpy tops. I had a rather neat midriff! I wore sarees too, of course — everyone did back then. Who would imagine that a day would come, as it did recently, when a dashing young Jet Airlines steward would greet a sari-clad me with the comment, “Ma’am, I really like your costume; what do you call it…?”
When I was approaching my 50th birthday, it seemed appropriate to greet this rite of passage with something apocalyptic. I decided that I would cut my long hair and switch entirely to sarees. At that time, 50 seemed the beginning of staid middle-going-on-old age — the end of youth, adventure and pizzazz. (I think slightly differently now that I am 70.) So, comfort, ease in packing, and the elimination of too many wardrobe choices was the objective. By virtue of my advancing years and greying hair, I was also increasingly being put onto government committees, and I realised bureaucrats and politicians (generally male) were much more receptive to a small woman in a sari — one could be subversive without their realising!
In the years after my saree resolution, on the weekends, I did occasionally put on a pair of jeans. They made me feel delightfully invisible and no longer the Dastkar craft-y lady. But once my waistline began expanding, I abandoned that too. Nowadays, except for kaftans for lounging in, it’s sarees, sarees, sarees.
The result? A feeling of great liberation. Sarees work for every occasion, and (more importantly) they cover every flaw, concealing your bulges and bumps in subtle swathes of beautiful fabric. They garner you respect and wonderful compliments wherever you are in the world. People offer to carry your luggage or give you a seat. Equally wonderful, this 5 1/2 metre length of cloth can be a veil, cradle, towel, sunshade, handkerchief, duster and keychain.
It’s true that sari wearers have become a bit of an endangered species — the dinosaurs of the fashion world, but really who cares? The sari may not be trendy but it’s absolutely timeless. You don’t need to buy new outfits or lower or raise hem lengths every time fashions change. And, unless you are Mamta Banerjee, you simply can’t look frumpy wearing a sari.
There is a fallacy too that wearing a sari one becomes typecast, a bit of a behenji, always looking the same. This is so not true. One of the sari’s extraordinary strengths — contributing to its survival as a wearing style, even in an age of globalised culture — is that each wearer’s persona becomes unique, and in a way that cannot be copied. Priyanka Chopra is a sensuous sex-bomb, while Indira Nooyi, is the epitome of corporate power. The sari itself has infinite variety too, and I am not just talking about the 108 different wearing styles in which one can drape it. Every state has its own distinctive weave and character. The endless variations of colour, texture, motif, and fabric add yet another dimension of choice. The fact that the weaver can change both pattern and colour in each sari on the loom if he chooses leads to almost every piece being slightly different.
Proof? In my 55 years of sari-wearing, I have only encountered someone twice with exactly the same sari as I had in my cupboard.
Some years ago I was doing a workshop at NIFT, when an aspiring young designer came up and greeted me with, “Wow ma’am, I didn’t know anyone with grey hair and a sari could have ‘attitude’.” A typical knee-jerk reaction of the young to sarees today – sari wearers are automatically associated with the dull, the passé and the unsuccessful. As a result, you won’t find the sari in most so-called ‘lifestyle’ ads. In TV commercials, where most Indians pick up the signals of what’s “in” and what’s “out”, the only women shown sari-clad are the obedient bahu virtuously frying puris, the wicked mother-in-law demanding a Harpic-cleaned toilet, or the plain girl with acne, BO and bad breath.
This is so obviously a marketing ploy, since, if people realised how amazingly becoming (and comfortable) sarees were, garment manufacturers and designers would go out of business! Nothing therefore makes me happier than some young woman coming up to me at our Dastkar Bazaars and saying, “Ma’am, you’ve really inspired me, help me buy a sari….” (This happens quite often, especially since I started my online SARI DIARY.)
With all this wealth of choice, how do I select my sarees? Entirely by impulse. I don’t go out shopping or surfing for sarees — I have more than enough, plus a self-imposed restriction on not exceeding 250 (extra ones get given away if I cross the limit). But when I see something I really like I generally buy it. Since sarees seldom repeat themselves, one otherwise regrets it later. (I do have another self-imposed restriction — price. After all, its ultimately just a piece of cloth to wear.) I love ikat and bandhini, and prefer woven motifs to printed ones, though ajrakh is the exception. I don’t generally like embroidered saris, but chikan and kasuti are exempt. I loathe Swarovski-studded chiffons, but love some of the creative riffs on tradition that young craftspeople are doing.
Having got the sarees, how do I decide which one to wear? Well, sarees sort themselves into categories anyway — elaborate, generally gold-encrusted ones for weddings and festivities; slightly less grand ones for evenings and parties. There are the sarees one wears everyday; silks for winter and cottons in summer — I make the transition to silk at Diwali and to cotton at Holi (even though global warming has made nonsense of Delhi seasons). After that it’s a matter of mood — does one go for drama or subtlety, colour or cool? They are all hanging up in my walk-in closet, and picking one for the day is almost osmosis. The jewellery matches itself from my fairly organised drawers – anything from coconut shell beads to antique kundan, I enjoy ringing the changes. My comfortable flat chappals are made by our Dastkar Ranthambhore Project regurs in Rajasthan, covered with block-printed fabric in colours that match my ensembles.
I try not to get typecast in a predictable colour palette, something that often happens after a certain age. Inevitably though, the role and occasion do dictate ones choices. When the weather’s hot or I am mourning someone loved, I usually wear white, cream or grey; when I’m going to a meeting it’s an elegant but restrained navy blue, brown or green; when I am peppy and having fun, the bright colours come out. (Though I do remember Indira Gandhi telling my mother that if you are tired, wear red — it brightens your skin!) If I’m speaking somewhere, I choose a sari that will stand out against the usually black or white podium backdrop. There ARE occasions I’ve been totally caught out: the most appalling being a recent conference on crafts in Bangkok for which I’d packed my most stunning sarees, only to discover that the whole country was in a years mourning for their late King; all dressed in funereal black!
I am absolutely comfortable in sarees. I wear them while bussing it in Bihar, clambering onto the top berth on a train, or climbing ladders doing our Dastkar displays. I wore a sari when I crossed the Banni on a camel, and when I go out for my early morning business with my lota on field trips. I feel no longing for little black dresses, or what now seems the restrictive uniformity of jeans. Meanwhile my colleagues, the craftspeople we work with, and those who follow my weekly Sari Diary posts, all seem to look forward to seeing which sari I am wearing.
I do agree a sari is the fashion industry’s worst nightmare; a garment that never becomes dated, and therefore never needs be re-invented and “marketed”. But luckily that’s not my problem.
Laila Tyabji works with crafts and textiles, and is founder member and Chairperson of DASTKAR Society for Crafts & Craftspeople.
May 30, 2017 at 2:47 pm
I wear a sari every day since 30 years and I am known as the lady in the sari in my small village in the heart of Switzerland. I am often asked if I feel uncomfortable being watched as I walk the streets of Switzerland NO ! I am always given a beautiful smile apprecaiting my attire my Indian identity and belive me I am not at all conservative or a behenji ! Far far from it !!
May 30, 2017 at 5:29 pm
I loved reading your diverse and informative piece on such a versatile outfit that I’m proud to inherit! My mother and aunts all are known to carry saree in every scenario but as a young mother to be in the heart of Silicon Valley, I also found the collection of sarees so fondly gifted to me by my mother and mother in law from each state of India as the everlasting outfit that grew when I grew with every child of mine. Six kids and some 27 yrs later, as I now embark on my next new role as a mother in law, I can’t help but look forward to a saree to wear to wedding reception! What really got me to appreciate this evergreen outfit style from east was to share the article with my soon to be daughter in laws who both requested sarees as one of the first gifted outfits from me 🙂
May 30, 2017 at 6:31 pm
Hey beautiful ladies , I love wearing sarees to work. Most preferred are the handwoven ones. With an exposure of inland and abroad I enjoy the dignity and respect shown not just through words but eyes and gestures too. I do put on denims and dresses and skirts often but it’s an undew respect that I get as a lady only when I drape a saree. I feel proud, protected and most importantly confident. It’s who I am and love to leave it each time of day and time. Sometimes I wonder when all Indian ask if I am comfortable. Yes I am the most comfortable as this is our identity. Mid 30’s is what surprises people to have taken up wearing this beautiful piece of cloth. But hey in my 20s too in England I wore it to work and functions. Not due to complusions but by choice.
May 30, 2017 at 6:50 pm
I love wearing Saree’s and you are absolutely right ,they are never out of fashion. Wearing Saree’s that your mom and mom in law have worn adds to the sense of being connected. The grace they add to the persona is not to be questioned . I stareted wearing Saree’s 25 years ago to look older but now the Saree has become my everyday office wear and a must for all occasions when I don’t know what to wear ( which is most of the time). Saree is the one dress you can lend and borrow and not worry on size and fittings. This is the tradionsl attire which is going strong and just reinvents itself with all age groups.
May 30, 2017 at 10:51 pm
Loved this piece. I work in a lab in the US and for the past few years have been toying with the idea to wear the sari to work. Let’s see when I take the plunge.
I find sari’s magnificent and well its now a matter of time , living outside of India, I will start wearing them outside the house. Thanks for beautifully chronicling via the pictures.
May 31, 2017 at 5:21 am
Oh I so love your collection and your attitude. I’m coming back to Delhi later this year to put together a sustainable fashion label and supply chain to work with pineapple, banana and hybrid textiles.
I would love to show you my saree designs when finished. Banana sarees are a new revolution haha. Please visit my site to see my inspirations. Tho duly noted you don’t like Embroided sarees 🙂
Kind regards Alison Jose http://www.embroid.shop
June 1, 2017 at 7:05 pm
Thanks for making the saree so look so stylish… I’m a saree lover, and I feel complete when I wear one. I just cannot understand the fuss these days about wearing the saree. Looks like all are busy aping the west.. whereas the fact is they love our traditional attire.
June 3, 2017 at 5:02 am
Well.. Ms. Tyabji.. you are an extremely accomplished woman in your own right. But unfortunately had no idea that you are so skin deep and shallow. I myself have been wearing sarees on occasion and can boast of having some very good collection in my wardrobe. Being a traditional Bengali it is also part of my life . I wear it on occasions unlike my mother and grandmother and aunt. Saree is warmth .. saree is a way of life.. and your lifestyle is quite different from Mamata Banerjee
So she is comfortable the way she wears it (frumpy!!) is her choice.. as maybe my grandmother or anyone else’s for that matter who also wears it in a frumpy way (according to you). In my eyes it’s a beautiful piece of clothing and everyone wears it in their of own way.
As they deem comfortable. Loose comments are unbecoming from a person of your stature specially being an enlightened and elderly woman yourself
June 4, 2017 at 9:57 pm
Sari is the most beautiful UNIFORM a WOMEN can DRESS
January 16, 2018 at 2:21 pm
Wow! What a great and inspiring article! I found it by googling “is saree out of fashion!?”.
I love sarees. I’m a 34 year housewife from Delhi and I’m trying to shop and wear sarees as much as I can. I never wore them before and I don’t have a mother or even a mother in law that could share their saree stories etc. I’m originally from Europe and my husband too is a Punjabi sikh. However I was crazy about everything Indian since I was 2 years old… I love watching old movies just because they wear sarees in them. One day I “felt” like wearing something long and flowing and usually I buy gaghras… I thought I didn’t want to wear jeans when I’m 50 or 60 or 70… I wanted something decent, comfy and beautiful… Then I started browsing for sarees on Amazon… And thought why couldn’t I wear them? I know I’m from Europe, but Sonia Gandhi is too and I love her handloom sarees… But when I actually wore them it felt like a big deal… Everyone was watching, asking, commenting… People tried to fix my pallu, advice on the saree material that would suit me better (I don’t have “curves”)… Youngsters said I was” paagal” etc. However my husband encourages me a lot by saying that life is too short and we should do stuff that makes us happy. I know I can’t bring back the 70’s but I can bring back the 70’s and 80’s in my own life and house, so I decided to wear sarees every day but at my own home and also including festivals or when we go out. I still have be no courage to wear it 24/7… I think saree is too beautiful to be forgotten.. I can’t imagine India without saree… 🙂