Khalid Saleem
ONE of the minor joys of living in Islamabad of yesteryear was the welcome opportunity it afforded one of enjoying long and pleasant walks early in the morning. All this has gone out the window with the unwelcome descent of the Pandemic.
What with the SOPs one is obliged to follow, one hardly knows whether one is coming or going! Allow one to hasten to clarify that it is not at all one’s intention to dwell on the vagaries of the weather.
What is of interest rather is what one got to enjoy – free of cost – as a corollary of the changing weather. So here goes!
It so came to pass in the past years when the going was good, one came face to face with a phenomenon that had hitherto escaped one’s attention.
It all began when one espied two rather smug and comfortable looking ladies engaged in the leisurely pursuit of sweeping the road – yes, Islamabad persists with the traditional practice of entrusting this important function to members of the fair sex.
The first thing one noticed, then, was that the duo were operating at that indolent pace and rhythm that comes only after years of honest – though hardly intense – toil. The road was being swept as per regulations but not without the ladies leaving their distinct imprint on the whole exercise. But one is digressing.
On the occasion under reference, it was not the ladies’ work rhythm that attracted one’s attention, remarkable though it was in itself.
What struck one straightaway was the fact that the two ladies were wearing what in the Western world have come to be recognized as ‘designer sweaters’.
There was no mistaking the texture, the design and the outlandish pattern that have all become the hallmark of the ‘Rich and Famous’ in the so-called developed world. And what is more, the brace of ladies in question were carrying it off as if it was just another day in their checkered lives.
Presently, the two ladies were joined by a middle aged male colleague, who – going by his (you guessed it!) designer sweater – could easily have passed off as the indigenous version of an aging Hollywood actor.
This set one a’thinking! Had we in the Land of the Pure, unbeknown to the common man, been overtaken by an Industrial Revolution of sorts, wherein fashionable apparel was being mass-produced at affordable prices? Or, had our blessed working classes struck it rich, thanks to the intricate web of statistics – based on macro and micro policies of the financial wizards – as woven by our indefatigable planners? The truth was nothing as exciting though!
Thanks to our second-hand clothing markets (in some cities known by the rather catchy nomenclature of ‘lunda bazaar’) our working classes have found fashion within their reach, at least during the harsh winter months.
This weighty discovery had the effect of stimulating one’s thought process. The ‘Rich and Famous’ of the Western world spend virtually small fortunes on purchasing so-called designer clothing just so that these garments would set them apart from the common herd.
And thanks to their ‘wear and quickly discard’ habits, the unwashed of the developing world get to steal a few moments of glory among their peers.
An over-the-shoulder look back at recent history would be in order. It so happened that the great revolution of the ready-to-wear garment industry in the developed world had resulted in the mass production of middling quality garments.
This had the effect of bringing the prices down to within the reach of the working classes, thereby prompting the ‘Rich and Famous’ to look for alternate sources for their wherewithal.
Their only – and modest – desire was basically to be (or at least to look) different from the herd. As a consequence, then, whereas the working classes managed the means to pick up their suits and sweaters from outlets such as Marks and Spenser, the upper classes started opting for bespoke tailoring and the designer stuff.
So much for the developed Western world! The situation in countries such as ours, one notices, is somewhat different – in fact, reversed. Whereas the ‘great unwashed’ wear the designer stuff (courtesy the good old lunda bazaar), our upper classes proudly flaunt their wealth by making a beeline for the ‘imported’ Marks and Spenser genre.
The underlying idea, nevertheless, is the same: that is to look different from the multitude and to stand out in the crowd. One man’s meat is another man’s poison as they say; or is it the other way around? Fashion, as it has come to be called, is ephemeral – fleeting.
The desire to be different and to look different, though, is engrained in human nature. It has always formed part of what can be identified as the class struggle among the homo-sapiens. By the time the common folk catch up with a fashion (thanks to the hardworking plagiarists) it is time for the select band to move on to greener pastures, if that is the phrase one is looking for.
In the Land of the Pure, today, money reigns supreme. It is their wealth, rather than fashion sense, that our haves like to flaunt. This explains the abundance of shops selling (smuggled?) foreign apparel that have spawned around the country like wild mushrooms after the rains.
These shops stock items of the Marks and Spenser genre plus plagiarized designer models from the underground factories of East Asia, all selling at staggering prices. Money is no consideration for our nouveaux riches, though, and thus the cult of pseudo-fashion flourishes in this land of pseudo egos!
— The writer is a former Ambassador and former Assistant Secretary General of OIC.
