Category: Clothes

Black Swan + Black Shirts

Context. 

So I want to be a minimalist and I don’t want to own a lot of things. I mean all I own is a TV, a writing table, a bookshelf, 300 or so books, two luggage bags, a guitar, a uke, 10 odd shirts (most of them black or blue), 1 pair of denims, too many undergarments, 2-3 pair of shoes, some paintings (art), a lot of paper and one small box of trinkets that have an emotional value. I also have some pass-me-downs from my sis that she left behind when she moved away from Mumbai (kitchen utensils etc). Wow, this is a lot! Need to reduce. 
Apart from this reluctance to own things, I don’t want to do any chores either. This means that I outsource everything. Including grocery, cooking, cleaning, ironing, follow-ups and all that. And I’ve tried to automate most things. My food comes by itself. My house gets cleaned every day at 5 PM. I drop my clothes at a security guard and they come back ironed. So on and so forth. 
Why would I do this? I want to minimize decisions and make life simple.
Now, coming to the story. 
So, a few days before Diwali, I followed my routine and left a bunch of clothes to be ironed at the regular place, with the regular security guard, with the regular instructions to hand over these to the regular ironing guy. 
When the clothes did not come back for a few days, I chased the regular ironing guy and he said he never took them! 
I then I spoke to the regular security guard and he said he’s not aware which ironing guy took my clothes as he was away (on a break or something) when the ironing guy took those clothes away. 
I thought about it for a bit, was worried for a bit but then got busy with impending travel to Delhi. And thus forgot about it. Actually, I did not forget. I just conveniently ignored it. 
Once I came back from Delhi, after about 7 days, I realized that the clothes were still not back. And that bunch of clothes that I gave for ironing had ALL the shirts that I own! Not that I own a lot of shirts – I think about 8 or 9. 
But the point is, they were all the shirts I own. Including the ones, I wear in the office, on events, on dates, at functions, on important meetings, etc, etc. 
And all of them were now missing.
Suddenly, I was shirtless! You know, not a shirt on my back. 
I tried to investigate and spoke to multiple security guards and multiple ironing men. But no one seemed to have any answers. The shirts had just disappeared. Out of trace. Without any clue. Something like that had never happened to me. You know, I am generally careful and don’t lose things. That’s a different matter that on this trip to Delhi, I lost my travel-pillow. 
I was perplexed and I did not what to do. 
Till I saw this message from VG, who lives in the same apartment complex. 
So there! 
Phew! Loss. Closure. 
You know, to this to happen, how many coincidences had to happen at the same time? I had to give all my shirts (which is not the case most times) for ironing. It had to be the wrong guard on duty (because the regular guard would know my regular ironing person). It had to be the wrong ironing guy that picked my clothes. The ironing guy had to forget a bunch of clothes at the wrong place for someone else to pick them up. My clothes had to be in that bunch of 20 flats. Then, someone else had to pick up old clothes at the exact same time! Black Swan? 
And the worst part? I would’ve never found what happened to my clothes, if not for VG and his super-connectedness. I would’ve always wondered about the mystery of the lost clothes! Now that I know, I am at peace. Closure is good! 
So what does this mean?
Three things. 
1. My shirts are being used by someone who needs them more than I do. So, yay to that! 
2. I will have to buy new shirts. Which is a good thing again. Because I can buy just three and try to live my life in those three. Could be tough but let’s try! 
3. I realized that I am not emotionally attached to my clothes. I did not feel even a tinge of sadness. Though, I am bugged at the thought of spending time shopping for shirts. I am bugged at the idea of spending money. But that’s it. I am not bugged about losing my favorite shirt that makes me look thinner. I am not sorry about losing the shirt that a friend gifted. Heck, I don’t even remember the designs or patterns that I owned! I am not bugged that this minimalism and automation has cost me a wardrobe – you can never control Black Swan events. 
So yeah, that’s it! How is your November going?
PS: Anyone wants to gift me any shirts? 

Three scenes

Scene 1
A 33-year old man. Dressed in baggy denims, ripped at the knee on one side. Torn at the leg opening on the other. Linen shirt that needs ironing. Almost bald and a disheveled mop of hair on the crown of the head. An unkempt salt and pepper beard.

The guy tries to walk in to a swank building that has security guards from G4S. The building houses corporate offices of a few leading banks and other such businesses. And like any other “corporate park” the building also has a few fancy restaurants.

While the man attempts to walk in the building to meet a friend for lunch at the restaurant, he is singled out and is asked by the security guard about his intentions. And while this is happening, a few hundred characters, dressed in clothes ranging from three-piece suits in the muggy Mumbai weather to a dress that barely covered the woman’s modesty to a worker who probably was engaged as a window-cleaner to everything in between walked past by. Without raising anyone’s eyes or suspicions.

Back to the man. He calmly tells that he intends to goto one of the restaurants and the guards give him an incredulous look and want to frisk him.

Scene 2
A resident of a not-so-posh building is walking in to the lift lobby to go up to his home. The security guard at the entrance asks him to make an entry into the visitor’s logbook. When the resident tells the guard that he lives in the building and he is not supposed to make an entry into the logbook, the guard frowns at him, scans him from top to bottom and asks him, how could he own / rent a place in the not-so-posh building.

Scene 3
A not-so-young man has matched with a very attractive lady on a dating app and he is all excited about meeting her. They meet up but the moment the lady sees him and his tattered clothes and his hair, she abruptly cuts the visit short and escapes by making an excuse.

There are more such scenes that I can recount. And the dude in all these three scenes is me. And all these things have happened to me in the course of last three few days.

My impressionable heart and mind refuses to come out of the shock. That the world I live in judges people on the basis of how they look. I mean I’ve always known that great looks can get you ahead in life, career and all that. But this is blatant discrimination. And its not nice to be on the receiving end. I now know the reason for all the anger and frustration of people who’ve faced discrimination on the basis of their color, race, skin, thoughts and so on and so forth.

While we talk of (in)tolerance and openness and all such things, I dont get that that the world treats me like an anomaly and I cant function like a normal human being! I mean we are nothing in the large scheme of things. No one knows the reason of life and all that. We will all die someday, leaving behind I dont know what and I dont know for whom. Whatever time we have here, why cant we be and let others be? Live and let live? There is just so much to do, so much to enjoy. There are so many miracles that we ought to enjoy, rather than staring at people who are different.

Dont believe me? Go get caught in the rain and tell me if it matters how someone is dressed!

Andy from Shawshank, in the rain.

A lesson in fashion and dressing up!

If you’ve seen me, you know that my fashion sense sucks. So much that you may not even want to let me stand next to you.

Repeated, desperate attempts by #sgMS, family, friends and others have gone in vain as I refuse to wear anything that is not comfortable. As a result, I am often the worst dressed in the room. I have this special superpower. I can walk into any store and pick the worst thing that they’ve ever sold. No wonder my wardrobe looks like a dump yard that has been neglected by the city and the people alike.

Plus I can’t think if I am wearing shoes. Serious. It seems as if someone has put a claw on my thinking. May be my brain is in my toes? Quite likely, going by the way things are going for me professionally and personally.

So, there are times when in a gathering of 1000 people, all dressed in their wedding suits and sunday bests, I am the lone nut who’s dressed in shorts, chappals (aka flip flops) and a loose comfortable teeshirt. Of course I stand out like a cockroach on a wedding cake (as Bukowski would say). As a result, I am singled out and I often get into trouble. So much so that I have stopped going to public gatherings. And, no, unlike what I’ve been blamed of, I don’t crave for attention. I just need to be comfortable.

India is such a hot and humid place. Why would I want to cover my entire body with thick layers of cloth and sweat and make everyone uncomfortable around me? I’d rather air the body parts and keep it open. After all, my work must speak louder than how I dress. No?

Turns out, I was wrong. I am wrong. Whatever is the right usage of grammar.

How I dress is more important than how I work. I realized this yesterday when I had a meeting where I was pitching my services. My services. MY. SERVICES. As Saurabh Garg. For the first time in a long long time. As myself. Not as an employee of some other company. Nor as a representative of someone else.

Side note: All meetings prior to this, I have been part of a large contingent, headed by one of my bosses and more often than not we had worked with the client earlier. The clients thus knew of my capability the capability of the team that I represented. Life was easy and I could do what I wanted to.


Plus most of my work has been in advertising, events and travel. These businesses are considered “creative” and it is assumed that the practitioners of these disciplines don’t dress up well. I mean think of all the advertising kinds that you know of. What do they dress up in? What do they wear? How often do you think they conform to what the world dresses up like? 


Plus what I do is nothing special or different. It’s very similar to what a million others do. I am no one special. I thus must not expect any special privileges. Of course if I were an artist, I could have decided on what to wear and who to meet and all that. 


Plus other times when I have applied for a job, they have been in related industries and similar profiles. Plus they were looking at my experience and my CV. Here, the CV was me. Walking and talking. Live.  


Coming back. This was THE first time where I was unproven and the guy on the other side did not know of my reputation, the work I had done and so on and so forth. I thought I was going to get judged on the basis of what I present and how I present. I thought I had great ideas that were workable, cost effective and pretty cool. I mean if someone pitched those ideas to me, I would’ve been happy.

But, but, what I did not know is that how I looked like and what I looked like also mattered.

So even before the meeting started, the person who got me that meeting told me that I looked like shit and he would cancel the meeting if he could, because I look like shit. Set the tone for the meeting. All the pep-talk that I had given myself, all the self-talk that I subjected myself to, all the motivation, all the confidence I had, it just went down the drain. I could literally see it flowing it over my baggy jeans, leather “formal” chappals, unkept feet, to the drain.

Can’t blame him. By introducing me, he was putting his reputation on the stake and the way I was dressed did not do justice to his introduction. The “client” was supposed to trust me with business and the way I looked apparently spoke about the trust.

I felt sorry for him. To have stuck his foot out and introduce me.
And for myself. To have broken his faith in sticking his foot out for me.

Learnt a lesson. Felt stupid about being so stubborn all my life. I thought I have identified a way of life that works for me and the world at large could either live with it. Or take a hike. The world just asked me to take a hike!

As I write. think about the incident, about 12 hours later, I feel defiant. How can I change who I am, just to earn a few rupees? I have enough and more in the bank. I define enough as enough to pay the bills for 18 months.

Wait. No! I don’t have that kind of cash. I just have enough to last me till end of THIS month. Damn it! I AM poor and I need every penny that I can get. From anyone and for anything. And I am willing to sell my soul for it. A friend told me yesterday, there’s nothing called selling half a soul. So there are no half measures. Either I sell out. Or I don’t. I need to decide and choose.

The decision was pretty easy. At least it looked easy yesterday. Today, I am not so sure.

But, here is the change I am willing to make. An experiment that I am willing to do.

For when I have to meet people for work, I will dress up in something that is acceptable to the world and to me. I thought hard about it. The bare minimum the world expects is a clean pair of denims, a full-sleeves shirt (that I would roll up) and a pair of shoes. Since I am lazy and I don’t understand fashion, I will dress up in predictable black shirts. Along with denims and loafers (the closet thing that can be called a shoe and yet offer the freedom to my feet).

Every time I have a meeting, I will wear those. I have to make a living and if it requires me to mould the way I am, I will. If the world can’t accept black shirts and denims as formals, too bad. I will go back to a safe haven of a job and try and create something that makes people come to (rather than the other way around).

And when people come to me, I don’t think it matters what I wear and how I wear. Does it? Ask Steve!

Oh, here’s a caveat.

I’d do this for a few meetings. If they work out fine, I would better my wardrobe. But if those meetings don’t convert into business, I will revet to my old style. Of course the meetings could go good or bad depending on multiple factors but I will assume that they went bad because I was uncomfortable (because I was dressed up and was wearing shoes).

Let’s see how things go. Bring it on world!

P.S.: Want to know how meeting went? Ask me nicely and I may tell you.

Safedi Ki Chamkaar

The day I wear white shirts, they inevitably end up being bad. And this is funny because I started liking white shirts after a very dear friend got me one for my last birthday. And being the superstitious dude I am, more than 80% of clothes that I have, are white!

Take today for example. The day started bad. I woke up with cold. Then I had to attend this meeting where nothing productive comes out. Peeves me all the more since I am reading Making Ideas Happen (if you are keen on the book, here is a nice summary, written by the author himself).

The no-outcome meeting started at 10 and ended up at 2. Then I had to do the driver duty for my sis and mom. They shopped for silk, cotton and what not and I was busy hogging. And all my weight loss efforts went down the drain. The effort, for the uninitiated and curious ones includes six days on treadmill for 20 minutes, small meals at regular intervals and no coke for almost three months!

After the driver duty, I came home, wanted to sleep but a woman decided to get married and erect a tent right next to my place. The music was really loud. And worse, it was bad. Got a splitting headache. Almost skipped the gym and ended the day with more eating.

As I write this, its almost midnight and I have 4 things on my todoist that I need to finish before I can sleep. And did tell you that I am supposed to get up tomorrow at 6? To be able to attend yet another pointless meeting?