Fashionably Yours

“Thank you so much. I am in your debt. What would have I done without you, Maya Kapoor?” she said sarcastically.

“You would have been probably ended up going on your date with a shit face,” I branded a devilish laugh.

“Now can we just go? I don’t want to be late,” she pleaded.

I packed my vanity kit, slid it back into my bag, grabbed my coffee and followed her outside. When we emerged from the café, I was swept off my feet by the sudden change in the weather but Anu shuddered at the thought of rain washing off her makeup and spoiling her dress, but it was barely drizzling. A very early pre-monsoon tease by the rain gods.

“What the fuck?” she let out an exasperated sigh!

“What’s wrong with you? Just look at the weather,” I pointed at the dark grey clouds. They looked breathtaking, and it was delightfully windy. I clasped my hands in excitement. She looked at me disgustedly for a second before hurriedly running for her car in the parking.

“Come fast. It’s raining,” she shouted at me from the driver’s seat.

“Don’t be so over-dramatic,” I tutted.

“Are you coming or not?” she shouted.

“No. I think I’ll walk,” I grinned.

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” I smiled and waved her goodbye.

Instead of going home, I decided to walk in the opposite direction. Digging out the iPod from the depths of my handbag, I untangled the earphones and, to the sound of Laura Pausini, headed towards the ocean. Sitting on the edge of Carter Road, I couldn’t help but wonder how beautiful the ocean looked, as if it was dancing hand-in-hand with the tiny falling drops without a damn care in the world. It was so romantic and almost magical. I felt my heart flutter at the sight.

3

May 31

Today I woke up to a not-so-unexpected phone call. What on earth could Mom want from me at six-thirty on a Friday morning? With my Blackberry in hand I was deciding between red or green and before I could press the red button, the ringing had died. I thanked my karma. Mornings are not the time to talk to your mother, someone else’s mother or any mother on earth in general.

When I reached the office I spent an hour networking on social media. Networking is nowadays a must and of utmost importance for every business and profession and what could be better than Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest. Logging out of my said accounts, I typed Harrods in Google’s search bar and promised myself that I would use it only for reference for my next article on ‘Global Online Shopping Trends’ and not give in to the temptation of browsing it’s gorgeous collection of bags, shoes, clothes and accessories. I knew it was going to be tough but I couldn’t risk being caught. As the website opened, I got the feeling that I was going to fail spectacularly and before I could accept my defeat I heard the clatter of stilettos in the lobby which was getting louder with every passing second. Before I had the chance to crane my neck to view the owner of the nude silk and leather Nine West peep toes, I knew who it was.

“Hey darling,” Veena flashed a crooked smile.

“What do you want?” I asked sternly.

How dare that bitch look like the Indian version of Posh without fake boobs? I just couldn’t understand how someone could afford a Zara dress, Nine West shoes, Bobbi Brown makeup and a Charles & Keith handbag when they were a mere receptionist. That too in a not-so-high-flying firm like Style. I mean even Natasha could only afford M.A.C. In between all the shabby and tackily dressed employees of the office, Veena looked like she owned all of it and we worked for her.

“Relax. Why so rude all the time?” she smirked, while waving a fluffy white envelope on my face.

“What’s that?”

“Oh this? This is for you. That’s why I came here to deliver it personally,” she said.

“Then why don’t you just give it to me and go back to your work,” I snapped before snatching the envelope from her perfectly manicured fingers. “Oh. Credit card bill,” my face fell.

“Yes. Your credit card bill,” she looked down at me. “I knew you were poor but didn’t know things were so bad,” she said in a sympathetic tone.

“How dare you read my personal documents?” I hissed through clenched teeth. “And I am not poor.”

“Oh come on. Don’t be such a snob. I just accidently opened it, not like I meant to,” she feigned innocence.

“I would really appreciate if you won’t repeat such accidents in the future,” I shot daggers at her.

“See, some accidents are fortunate accidents. Now I know about your poor financial condition, I can at least help you. What are friends for after all?” she grinned. The nerve of the bitch!

“For the last time, I am not poor and I don’t need your help. Just leave,” I said sternly.

“Come on, babes. I can set up a donation campaign for you if you want. What about gofundme.com?” she ignored my warning and continued to spit poison at me.

I was boiling with anger and ready to burst and burn everything within a hundred meters of me when I saw Natasha emerging from her cabin and thought better of it. Natasha hated me and if I started screaming or fighting with Veena, she would kick me out of the office for creating unnecessary drama. So instead of waiting for Veena to leave I decided to do the honors.

“Excuse me, I have to go to the washroom.” Leaving her hovering over my desk, I picked my way out.

Sitting on the toilet seat with a crisp sheet of the credit card statement in my hands I was thinking how sensible it would be to accept Veena’s offer of setting up a donation campaign. There was no way in hell that I could pay seventy thousand rupees in sixty days. How could I let myself so out of control? Ten thousand for a bloody perfume? So what if it was on sale? So what if it was Chanel N°5? Oh come on! It was Chanel N°5, it was worth every penny, I scolded myself. But how was I going to pay off this bill?

After crying for ten minutes and practically using up all the water in the city for rinsing my face and rubbing away runny mascara marks, I got a hold of myself and went back to my desk only to find Anu sitting in my chair and browsing through the Harrods website.

For a moment I thought of telling her about the bill but then thought better of it. I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

“Look at those pins. You can give Kate Middleton a run for her money,” I mustered my brightest smile.

“Thank God, at least you don’t think I am fat,” she gave a pinched smile. How could someone who weighed as little as a hundred pounds be fat? What was the world coming to?

“Who said you are fat?”

“Sameer,” she sighed. “He always asks me to lose a couple of pounds. Can you imagine?”

Yes, I very well could.

“A man with a brain that weighs less than a piece of popcorn could say such things. It’s not unusual.”

“What?” she looked shocked.

And I thought I was talking to myself. I usually never talked to her about Sameer because basically I hated him, but criticizing him openly could stain our friendship and I wasn’t ready to risk it so most of the times I keep my precious thoughts to myself. The things you do for friendship.

“Nothing. Sorry for that. Anyway why are you here?” I asked, completely changing the subject.

“Well I am here to tell you that we are going out for a party tonight,” she beamed.

“You mean a real party with neon lights, loud music and delicious cocktails?”

I couldn’t believe that we were actually talking about a party. Before meeting Sameer, Anu and I used to party like hopeless teenagers with no guardian in sight, but it felt like ages ago because when she met him, everything changed. He had practically replaced every other thing and every other person in her life. I personally thought he knew some kind of occult art. How could you explain her dating a man like him? I really missed those late nights and wild parties with Anu.

“I knew you would forget. It’s Sameer’s birthday, you idiot, and he is throwing a party and you know that I don’t know half his friends. So, I don’t want to sit there and get bored to death while they laugh at their stupid, intimate jokes. I told him, if he wants me there, he has to invite you,” she grinned.

Oh fuck!

“So it’s you who is inviting me, not him,” I rolled my eyes.

“Well technically it’s the same thing. Isn’t it?” she threw me don’t-you-even-think-of-bailing-out-from-this look.

“But he doesn’t even like me,” I blurted out. It was true.

“Oh come on. Don’t you give me that shit again,” she had made up her mind and since I knew I was going to lose this argument with her, I gave up protesting.

“Anyways. Listen, you and I are going shopping after office and I don’t want to hear any stupid excuses,” she meant every word of it.

“But my credit cards are over the limit and I can’t even afford to buy fake eyelashes, let alone splurge on some over-priced piece of clothing,” I played my trump card. Well it was true. I was way over my credit card limit.

“Really?” she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“I never lie about plastic money,” I confessed honestly.

“OK. Then let me give you a loan,” she said in no-nonsense tone.

“What?”

“Yes. I will give you a loan to buy a dress for tonight and you can pay me back by coming to the party. Simple,” she smiled triumphantly.

Bitch!

“Nothing can stop you from coming to this party, darling,” she added and pushed back my chair, rose to her feet and walked back to her cabin.

***

Walking through the large glass doors of Palledium Mall, we trotted along the shinning Italian marble floor and headed straight to GUESS. Once inside the store, betwixt all the gorgeous clothes, painfully beautiful shoes and enviously thin sales girls, I started to relax. What was it about stores that made you feel ecstatic as soon as you stepped inside the glittering world of clothes, shoes and accessories, rail after rail, rack after rack?

After browsing through every single shelf and thoroughly examining all the clothes, I laid my eyes on beautiful baby pink silk shorts. As soon as I touched the butter smooth fabric, I felt the tiny hair on my hands stand fearing that I might stain its glossy texture.

“Wow! They’re beautiful,” I jumped a good two feet in the air as Anu appeared by my side with her big, round eyes fixed on the shorts.

“Aren’t they? Shall I try it on?”

“Are you kidding me? How can you not try this beauty?” she frowned.

Armed with possibly the most beautiful piece of fabric I could ever have found, I walked towards the trial room while Anu chose a sexy cream-black number and put it in the purchase basket without even bothering to try it, as always. Once inside the trial room, I stripped off my old Levi’s jeans and carefully tried to put on the feather-light shorts while thinking about which top I’d pair it with when suddenly I was jerked out of my thoughts.

“Ohmygod! Ohmygod! OH.MY.GOD,” unable to breathe I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“What happened? Are you alright? Maya?” I heard Anu banging on the trial room door. “Open the door.”

“I can’t button it up,” I whispered as tears burst from my eyes.

“What? I can’t hear you. Please open this damn door,” Anu shrieked from the other side of the door.

“I can’t button it up,” I shouted.

“What? Is that it? Don’t worry, I’ll get you the bigger size.” She dashed inside the store and before I could blink, she was back, “Open the door and take it. It will fit you.”

Moved by her inhumanity and fueled by anger, I pulled open the door with as much force as possible.

“Don’t you understand the seriousness of this situation?” I hissed while standing in the doorway in my plain white T-shirt and undone shorts.

“You are overreacting. It’s not a big deal. It’s just a bit tight around the waist,” she said nonchalantly as if trying a size bigger than your regular size was no big deal. Listen to this girl.

“It’s not just a bit tight and you still don’t get it,” I couldn’t believe that she couldn’t see the severity of the situation.

I opened my mouth to say something but couldn’t find my voice. Before I could control the building lump in my throat, I broke into sobs which in no time became uncontrollable and utterly embarrassing for Anu. Her face went bright scarlet because of a fat, crying friend in the middle of the shop.

“OK. Let’s get you changed into your jeans and get you out of here,” her voice softened as she led me inside the trial room and shut the door behind her.

***

“I am sure you can find something in your closet,” Anu tried to cheer me up.

I was so embarrassed by my new and much bigger waist size that I wasn’t listening to her words. I was trying to sooth my wounds with a red velvet cupcake I had picked up on the way out of the mall.

“You all right?” She asked as she stopped in front of my apartment.

“Yeah,” I said flatly and hopped out of the car while balancing my purse on the nook of my elbow. How I could be all right?

“Shall I come and pick you up for the party?”

“No. It’s fine. I will see you there.”

***

A half-hour and two glasses of Pinot Grigio later, I succeeded to push the memories of the disastrous evening from my mind and dug out a ruby red tunic which I bought from my first salary but never got the chance to wear thanks to my limited social life. After spending nearly ten minutes under bearably hot water, when I peered into the mirror, I found a girl with a shiny nose and a fresh rosy complexion looking back at me with big, twinkly eyes.

Dressed in my ruby red tunic, I applied au natural makeup on my face, straightened my hair, slapped on a moisturizer-foundation concoction on the exposed parts of my body (one of the best tips I had picked up from the magazine) and slipped my feet into the black pumps which I bought in a sale last month but had never had the opportunity to wear either. Fine. I was lying. To be honest I was afraid that I would stain it with something ridiculous which would spoil its suede texture forever or worse; I might fall flat on my arse, which I would say had slightly more chances of happening considering the deadly combination of super high heels, bumpy Mumbai roads and my wobbly legs. But tonight I didn’t have any other option.

Before leaving the apartment I dashed into my room to take the one last look at myself in the full-length mirror on the wall just next to my not-so posh bed. How had I gained so many pounds and not realized it until this evening?

4

June 1

My heart was beating fast, my palms were sweating, my head was throbbing and I could feel my nerves shrinking. Oh shit! Was I having a heart attack? Panicking, I struggled to open my eyes because they seemed stuck together. After trying for a few seconds, I used my fingers to peel them apart and in the process felt something sticking to my fingers. Mascara. Gazing around the wastebin identical flat of mine, I was trying hard to think what I was doing lying in my bed when I should have been at a birthday party and oh my god what the hell was the sun doing out in the sky in the middle of the night. Before I could make the sense of anything, I felt something turning, tossing and churning in the pit of my stomach and attempting to come out. Hopping off the sofa I ran towards my bathroom, not here not here and fell flat on my face over the pile of empty pizza boxes. But I had no time to wince as my forehead smacked the ground, instead I hoisted myself up from the floor and barged into the bathroom, ran for the basin and vomitted. Yuk!

Three highly unpleasant minutes later, I gained some control over my trembling body. Clutching the sides of the cornflower blue washbasin, I tried to composed myself and shove some oxygen into my lungs. As I looked up I found myself staring into the flea market bargain mirror with a cheap wooden frame. Someone with smudged lipstick, runny-sticky mascara and violently screwed up hair stared back at me. Was that me? I wondered. It made absolutely no sense. In a half-numbing and half-wondering state, I grabbed the disgusting blue colored Listerine from the cabinet and rinsed my mouth.

Wandering back into the room, I tried very hard to figure out what exactly had happened. As my mind was doing an absolutely rubbish job of remembering anything, from the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the coffee machine. It was staring at me innocently and inviting me to have that one, tempting brew which might help me to understand that what the freaking hell I was doing in my flat when I should have been getting wasted over one too many drinks in a club. I headed towards the kitchen very carefully and gracefully, carefully avoiding the pile of empty pizza boxes.

Plugging in the coffee maker, I placed my favorite polka dot vintage coffee mug under the nozzle and set the timer.

“OK. So now what I am doing here? Why I don’t remember coming back to the apartment?” I asked myself and waited for some no-nonsense answer.

Precisely after one minute, the intoxicating brown liquid came flowing out of the nozzle and filled my cup to the brim but my question remained unanswered. Damn.

Flopping down on the sofa in the living room with a warm cup of coffee cradled between my palms, I stared into the distance.

What the hell was I still doing here? Did I pass out after that last glass of Pinot Grigio and not make it to the party?

No. That couldn’t be true. I remembered leaving my flat last night and somehow had a vague memory of someone sitting on Sameer’s lap.

Then? Could it be possible that I went to the party after all and passed out after getting wasted over one too many drinks?

But if I passed out on some dirty sofa of some dark, smoky club, how did I get home? I certainly didn’t have any memory of leaving the club or getting back to the apartment. While still ruling out various possibilities, I took a huge gulp of the coffee and as its bitterness touched my taste buds, I wanted to puke.

Very ungracefully, I was sprawled on my sofa in the dress from last night and smudged makeup when I heard the key turning in the lock. Before my mind could wander off to crazy imaginations, Anu walked into the flat in the same black and cream dress which we bought yesterday for the party, clutching two cups of Starbucks and a heavily laden brown paper bag.

“What are you doing here?” I asked while scrambling into a sitting position.

“Want some coffee?” she asked, completely ignoring my question.

“Never wanted it so bad.”

I had a feeling that something was very wrong. Terribly, ethically, horribly wrong.

“Here,” she passed me one cup, placed the brown paper bag on the table and gracefully arranged herself on the sofa besides me, carefully avoiding my gaze.

“What are you doing here? Why are you still wearing your dress from the last night?” I asked.

“Unfortunately I didn’t go to the party with an overnight bag because I had absolutely no plan of coming back here with you. Wish I had the power to see the future,” she said sarcastically.

I could bet there was something definitely wrong because Anu didn’t do sarcasm, ever.

“You stayed here last night?”

I ignored the burning sensation on my tongue caused by the steaming hot coffee and concentrated on her instead. Why did she spend a night here? Wasn’t she supposed to be with her awesome boyfriend in his posh apartment after a completely fabulous party?

“Yes.”

She was talking in monosyllables now. Fantastic.

“Why?” I asked gingerly while peering over my coffee.

“Because you didn’t leave me any bloody choice,” she screeched.

“What?” I was flummoxed.

“Stop playing this fucking why-what game with me. Do you have any idea of the damage you did last night?” she screamed.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” I whispered. It was the truth.

“Talk louder for Christ’s sake,” she screamed, again.

“I don’t know what you are on about,” I said with blank face and equally blank mind.

“Are you even serious?” she threw me a disgusting look.

“Yes.” I looked at her with panda eyes.

“My goodness. The nerve of you,” she jumped to her feet like a ninja and for one second I thought she was going to kick me in my head. “You fucking slapped my boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, called one of his friends a slut, poured wine on another friend’s jeans, broke his BMW’s window, forcefully opened the door and peed on the driver’s seat.”

“I peed in a BMW?” I was in shock.

“You did,” she breathed.

“Why would I do that?” I croaked.

“You seriously don’t remember a thing?” she looked at me suspiciously.

“I don’t.”

“Well,” she placed her hands on my shoulders and forced me to sit down, “Last night when you arrived at Sameer’s birthday party your mood was already off and on top of that you were quite tipsy.”

I knew she was putting it mildly. With the amount of wine I had had last night I couldn’t be any less then horribly drunk.

“You went totally out of control when one of his friends accidently grinded his shin against your arse and you poured red wine on his jeans, which to be honest would have been a first reaction of any sensible girl. And then Sameer started to act like a total moron. He pulled Reeva on his lap and buried his face in her cleavage while she cracked all sorts of dirty jokes. And before I could do anything about it you grabbed her hair, dragged her off his lap and slapped him on the face.” She looked at me wide-eyed.

“I tried to stop you but you wouldn’t listen. And when I finally managed to get you out of the club, you went all cuckoo at the sight of his BMW in the parking lot. You broke the window by bashing your Aldo against it, opened the door and peed all over the driver’s seat,” she breathed. “Do you seriously not remember any of it?” she was astonished.

“Wow. Did I do that? Like actually?” I couldn’t believe my ears. I had never hit a fly in my life.

“Yes. You did.”

“And you are angry because?”

“I am angry not because of what you did to him or his friends, they totally deserved it. I am angry because he can report you to the police for violence. It’s a BMW for crying out loud,” she was genuinely concerned.

***

One long shower later I was sprawled on my sofa in my last clean pair of pyjamas and a slightly faded Mickey Mouse T-shirt besides Anu who was looking completely stunning in one of my long T-shirts despite of the fact that it was two sizes too large for her. She made it look chic, like a T-shirt dress. Yes. Sometimes I did hate her.

“Do you really think he’ll report me to the police?” I asked while slowly working my way through the blueberry muffin.

“To be honest, not really,” she said with a very calculative face.

“But just an hour back you said he would.”

“Well I didn’t say he would. I said he could,” she correctly pointed out. “Listen, babes, he may be a bit of a twat but he is very sensitive about his ego and pride. Though he would want to get back at you for what you did to his car, he is too much of a ‘man’ to go to the police and accept that a girl damaged his car and pride.”

Shit!

“OK. But what do you think he can do to get back at me?” I croaked.

“I don’t know. Jeez, Maya, yesterday you acted so rowdy and strong and now you are concerned about what he might do. Fuck him. Who the hell cares?” she grimaced.