While cleaning out the cupboard, an orange silk sari reminded me of another era when college chic meant ‘Saris on Saturday’ because we’d run out of clothes to wear by then. Our regular wardrobe comprised a pair of ill-fitting denim jeans (a sad attempt at Levi, by the neighbourhood darzi ), worn with humongous ( ‘extra small’ fitted two of me) Chinese collared Khadi kurtas in bright solid colours that faded with every wash, accessorised with oversized, embroidered cotton bags bought from various State Emporia and flatter than flat Kolhapuris.
Was it any wonder then that our mothers’ saris were more fashionable?
Twenty- five Seven 
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