I spent an hour this evening trying to find an example of a slashed Tudor garment on the web today. In the Consumer Behavior class, we had a discussion about what people are, what they aspire to be, and what they dissociate themselves with. The discussion came with a pretty interesting case study about Burberry (The British apparel brand) and the problem it faced with the brand suddenly becoming very popular with an unlikely customer base. The "Chavs" (Apparent British slang for a person who wears fashionable brands, flashy jewelry, etc., but is regarded as having bad or lower-class taste. Apparent because I never once heard it in all my time in Britain) somehow became fond of the trademark Burberry pattern and started to use the pattern everywhere, houses, cars, nails et all. Burberry started to lose its customers because why would anybody who could buy Burberry do so and be likened with the Chavs. Anyway, long story short, Burberry reinvented itself as an even higher class brand with the help of subtle designs, royal endorsements and a line that's even more expensive. Happy ending for Burberry!
During class, I remembered seeing a painting of one of the Queens once long back in art, and my art teacher telling me how the Queen's dress had slits so that her white underwear could shine through. Cheeky bastards these British royals I tell you! I told that to the professor today and she asked if I could send her an example of the same. So I spent an hour in the evening trying to find it. I realized, Google search is hard when you are as vague and scatter-brained as I am, but perseverance would still get you anywhere. As soon as I figured out what I was searching for, I found an abundance of results. I am attaching some examples with this post so that when I go through this sometime after 15 years, Googling isn't as hard. Of course, I cannot begin to comprehend the leaps and bounds technology would have taken by then. We live in a terrifyingly fast age. And Google has the answer to everything!
I have also been watching BBC's Ms Marple series again. Oh, how I love Agatha Christie. And the BBC rendition, though old, or perhaps because of it, is just so marvelously done. It's very rare for a TV series based on a book to be this good, but BBC would do that to you. Remember, BBC Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth? Sigh.
Combine all of this with a text from Natalie and I am transported back to England. The British countryside, the rainy, awful weather, the school, the kids, the vastness of open spaces, the lack of colour in life, Pett's Wood high street with the library, the art supply story, Maa's bakery, all the charity shops; the cleanliness, the uninterested people, the walking A LOT, Christmas and Easter, the sunset at 4 or 10 (depending on the month), the God awful cold, the Marks and Spencer's, my friends and their families, the being different, the wanting the fit in, the fitting in so well that I didn't feel different any more, the 208, Holly's bitchy group, my wonderful, misfit friends, the red phone boxes, the oh-so-many-woods all around, all the illness, the brown uniform, the never knowing what to wear, the stopping to care what to wear, walking home with Liana, the shopping once I had a job, the first, awful, hateful job, but earning, the cricket obsession! That list should have ended long back, but I can't seem to stop (and I am sure I have screwed up the commas). It's hard to believe over 10 years have gone by since I came back. Not because it feels just like yesterday, but because it feels like another lifetime.
I would like to live abroad for a few year with him. I know it won't be the same. I can never get as intimate with the local people of another country again. Childhood is such a good age. Now I am too old to experience without preconceived notions. Not to mention, I find it incredibly hard to fit in anywhere. Back then I was just thrown into circumstances with no option but to swim or sink, and eventually, swim I did. Now, I sit in my room, watch online TV, and wait for this year to end. It used to take me a year or so to fit in, another to really enjoy the new environment, and a little bit more to really fall in love. You would think that with age (or the wisdom that comes with it) and confidence would make the process somewhat quicker. Instead, I am old, and more rigid, and too cocky to go out and connect. Yet I am sure I would make a friend or two by the end of the year, and miss the "time at ISB" after I have left. Life, only beautiful in retrospect.
The last thought in the highly unstructured post is about being a bitch. I realized about a fortnight back what an absolute pain-in-the-ass BITCH I am to him at times. It isn't as if I hadn't realized this before. I did at times and then justified my actions in my head. But something strange happened, I confessed this to him and decided I will try my level best to not do it anymore. Now every time I feel irritated, I ask myself, "Is this fair to him?" and most of the times, the reply is a firm, disapproving NO. The other times, it isn't as firm but then I tell myself to Not-Be-A-Bitch. Has kept me unbelievably calm lately. When I am not able to talk to him or I miss him, instead of feeling angry, I end up feeling "my sweet, adorable baby". It shocks me, but it's a very happy shock. So along with Facebook, I seem to be doing very well on breaking the Being-A-Bitch habit. Too early to declare either of them eradicated, but I am keeping my fingers crossed that I can continue this forever.
Phew, that's a hell lot to writing that just happened! Now to kick CFIN's ass!
PS: My bike broke down in the middle of the road today. Had to go to a lot of trouble, and spend a lot of money to get it fixed. (Thank God, I have wonderful friends.) I love her, I really do, but she is so old and worn out. If I could, I would change half the parts in there and have her running smooth, but they never seem to detect half the problems when she is in the service centre, and she never seems to get fully better, whatever I may try. I just don't know how to keep her fit and running, but I cannot let her go.
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