Buying sarees

Made a trip to Chennai this week, where I shopped til I dropped … for sarees. Tradition has it that the bride to be has to give sarees to various relatives of the groom, plus I wanted to pick up sarees for all the girls coming from the UK to wear at the wedding reception. I had heard that Chennai is India’s silk saree capital with rock bottom prices and huge saree stores everywhere but was total unprepared for the reality – cavernous three and four storey saree shops ringed with sarees stacked floor to ceiling in every imaginable colour, fabric and price range – from the cheap and cheerful 50 rupee number to wedding sarees for 2 lakhs or more. Hundreds of little men in dhotis whisking lengths of gorgeous fabric onto cushioned counters for inspection by hordes of aunties, chaiwallahs roaming around to refresh those parched from the selection process, crowds pushing and jostling to make payment. The entire process was amazing – simply select your saree type (silk, chiffon, georgette, silk mix, etc), your price range, grab the attention of a salesman and try to keep hold f your senses (and your wallet) as saree after saree in all colours of the rainbow are spread before you. I picked up 25 odd sarees in about 45 minutes, not bad going for a gal who can browse for hours. Having picked the colours which I thought would suit everyone in the price ranges as per protocol (most expensive for mother in law, expensive ish for sisters in law, less for the myriad relatives and frankly cheap and cheerful for the UK guests who won’t anyway know the difference) I joined the queues for payment, receipt stamping, delivery and wrapping.
Later in the week I made a trip to Goregaon market, a brilliant indoor market with fabulous Indian clothing shops jostling along narrow walkways. Picked up one saree which I have to wear on the day of returning to the marital home (bought by my future mother in law) and one red and silver number which I’ll wear in the office for diwali. Indian clothes are so fabulous, so bright and ostentatious, makes me laugh when I think back to my drab old English wardrobe full of greys, blacks and browns punctuated with the occasional dark red. I must, simply must, learn to tie a saree.