Sartorial standoff
Should old people wear new clothes? I ask this question in all seriousness because for the last ten years I have been engaged in a running battle with my wife over this. I prefer old clothes. Indeed I have done so all my life. Not just that. I also prefer the same colours — grey or khaki trousers, and a white or grey bush shirt. My determination to not deviate from this was reinforced about 30 years ago. Someone had presented me with a red shirt which I rarely wore. But one day I was obliged to wear it. I had to go to the railway station to bring someone. I was wearing khaki shorts that had been altered from my five-year-old khaki trousers.
While I was waiting for the train to arrive, a harassed looking fellow, with his wife and little boy in tow, asked me to carry his two suitcases. He had mistaken me for a porter because of my khaki shorts and red shirt. For about half-a-minute I toyed with the idea of obliging him but the train I was waiting for had come in. So I told him I would charge ₹150 which, three decades ago, was an absolute fortune. The fellow scurried off after cursing me.
But coming back to the original question, I think old people look quite ridiculous in the latest fashions or even very new clothes. This is my personal opinion so please don’t get offended if you love new clothes. Go ahead and wear them to your heart’s content. But I must also tell you that I have a friend who is two years older than me, or 75, who is always dressed like a model. I don’t know how he can afford these clothes. An old Punjabi play from the 1960s comes to mind each time we meet. It was called “Chadhi Jawani Buddhay Nu”. It became a film in the 1970s. The interesting thing is that his wife, like me, is always in old clothes. She always manages to look dignified and elegant while my friend looks the opposite.
It’s not just a liking for old clothes (which I now get from my sons in exchange for the new ones I buy for them). It’s also that I don’t like colourful clothes. About half a century ago I had a girlfriend who decided to get me coloured bush shirts. We went to a cloth shop which also had a resident tailor. She chose two pieces. One was yellow with black stripes and the other blue with checks.
When the stitched things came, she said I looked very nice. But I said I felt awful and a few months later we parted ways over her disapproval of everything I wore, said or did. I immediately gave away those clothes to a beggar, who gave the usual benediction: that my girlfriend should become my wife! Fortunately, the person who I eventually married, even though she has constantly grumbled, has never insisted that I change my sartorial preferences. The deal is that since I don’t care what she wears, she shouldn’t care what I wear. Believe me, it works.
There are, of course, special occasions when I wear something colourful and new. The last time I wore one was when my sons got married because they insisted. I gave in because I didn’t want to be churlish and a spoilsport. I must admit that the photographs look quite nice. I haven’t, however, worn those kurtas since and am waiting to hand them over to my sons. Both have absolutely deplorable taste when it comes to clothes. They will be happy to have them.
