Annoucing the Marsupial Times

Ok. Here's where I take offence. My new bff tells me that he thinks my blog is less about fashion and more abt me wanting to diss people anonymously. I scoffed. Of course not. I care. I really care. I am a fan of the famous Keats saying. Well, not really. My point is that sometimes, when I am having less than a good day, it definitely pushes me over the edge. And if I can contribute to this world, by preventing one person from making the faux pas, I would be a better person. Phew. That sounded like a Miss America speech.

I was having lunch at a faux meat place. A place where you can get vegetarian buffalo wings, vegetarian beef and the like. All made of synthetic soy protein. As I was getting through my faux meal where my dear friend made the aforementioned(pfft!) preposterous observation, in walked my long time peeve. This middle aged Indian lady, probably in her early 40s. She walked in wearing something less than a fannie pack and more than a money belt. She was dressed like the quintessential woman of the world. Or what people thought the definition of the 'woman of the world' was, about 20 years ago. She had her hair cut like a man and was dressed like a man too. A shapeless shirt and pleated pants, a tough woman, quite obviously. And she wore, attached to her belt, her quintessential I-am-a-gadget-gal gadget, her cellphone in a leather pouch. *Groan*. I mean , lady, come on! There is such a thing called a purse. There are tons of nice ones, and no its not more important than your comfort and easy access.

Now she is not the only one. I have seen different versions of this. Especially when people are on international travel, and I have even observed this sometimes when I travelled from some GodForSaken places in the MidWest, or down South. People, forever, in the need to be more efficient, carry fanny packs. Both men and women. They carry all their 'important' documents in them. And walk around feeling protected and secure, and may I add, a little foolish. And the best part is that they are usually teamsters. I mean if you see one of these kangaroo like folks, chances are they are more of them lurking around. Sometimes, they move in couples, both husband and wife will be carrying a fanny pack at their waists. I can understand(gulp) if men have to wear them. Men dont have the convenience of carrying a purse, a man bag is too funny and a tad quirky. But ladies, you have no such need. A hand bag, albeit a big one, will do just fine. You can even carry some extra copies and some snack in there if you like.

I know that the demographic of the readers of my blog is fairly young, but I know that years will pass and soon we will be closer to the kangaroo generation, hopefully someone will remember these golden words and spread the word then.

tats - ugly or saxy?

The age old dilemma. From time immemorial, I have wondered whether tattoos are ugly or beautiful. I will admit, without trying to date myself, that growing up, I always thought that they were super cool. Of course, this was also the time when I thought that I would totally have my own motorcycle and go about town riding really fast.
Years have passed, and I have become wiser. With wisdom, came the awareness that there is nothing cool about riding a motorcycle at a 100 mph, and then having all your body parts taped together if you managed to get out alive out of an impending carnage. I would rather be protected by some air-bags. But, saying this, I dont want to jinx all my motorcycle riding pals. Cool looking tattoos go hand in hand with the rebel-with-a-cause look. Of course so do body piercings and dyed hair.
But my particular grievance is with tattoos. Tats, as they are called, are beautiful when you get them done initially. The novelty alone is quite exhilirating. They vary from being elaborate pieces of wearable art on your arms, your back, your naughty bits to simple I-just-want-to-do-it-for-the-heck-of-it ones. After going through the excruciating pain, the satisfaction is pretty short lived. Its only a matter of time , a year or two tops, before boredom sets in, and then old age and then sagging skin set in. Unless of course you are one of those tough biker dudes, whose dating joint is the local watering hole. You can totally attract the right kind of crowd then. Someone called Candy or Sugar.
Whats worse is people wearing them go from being bad-assed rebels to just plain ole tacky hags or hogs. And they are so permanent. They are there to stay. Till death do you part. Or perhaps, till complicated plastic surgery do you part.
Needless to add to that is the accidental oops moment. A tat slipping out when you are in a formal work setting. I maybe exaggerating a little, but I wouldnt trust a manager who had a scorpion tattoo on his shoulder that slipped out at a team event or an employee with a little heart on her lower back.
So, my request to y'all, especially the young ones, think long and hard before you go down this road. Unless you want to be the next Amy Winehouse or are getting ready to visit the old 'Hotel California', please dont get tattoos plastered over your body. And for some reason, if you hafta do it, please try and get a subtle one in some imperceptible place on your body, so it could become a relic soon to be forgotten.