Skip to main content

Thronging for thongs and other gems

There's this neighbourhood hosiery shop I go too. Or rather, used to go to. The owner is from a business family of brothers, all with their own hosiery shops standing in a row, actually. Anyway, very respectful chap, he is. But I am a little embarrassed to go there, to be honest. Because each time I walk in to buy some innerwear essentials, he gives me a quick scan and reels off my size. And he is always right! A rather unnerving experience.

Anyway, because I feel shy about going through that every time, I decided, why not look up lingerie online. There, it sounds so much glamorous, already! No more innerwear for me, only lingerie and negliges, and teddies and whatnots. So I do buy stuff online because it's cheaper this way and because I can do it impersonally--without helpful storeowners looking over my purchases or respectfully telling me my actual bust size.

Naturally, I get weekly mailers from an online e-tailer and often, the marketing content (not the products) totally crack me up. Sometimes, the language is more suited to heavy-breathing Harlequin romances--"Sheer silk whispering against your skin", "brief encounters", "lacy loves", so on and so forth. Ergo, the latest sampler I received last week--"Throng for thongs only at Rs 249".

I think thongs are seriously sexy, regardless of how comfortable they are, but I guess comfort is not really a factor. But hmmm... "throng" for thongs? What a beauty of a line. Never fails to make me chuckle.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Wasteland

Something happened over the past two days. Our next door neighbours, or rather one particular family (like all metrizens in this cramped city, we live within literally, touching distance of the others in our neighbourhood), have decided to demolish their home. Fine, so what, you ask. They see how valuable land now is. Who can blame them? But along with their home, they have also decided to kill off the two trees -- a mango tree and a coconut tree -- in their compound. I used to look at those trees from my kitchen window. The mango tree, in particular, was a welcome sight. Bunches of ripe green fruit used to hang heavily from it. Looking at it, I'd think of my home in Kerala -- of the time when I was a little girl in a white petticoat helping my father pluck mangoes as they slowly changed from parrot green to a golden reddish-yellow-orange shade. That was our annual summer ritual, you see. My father plucked mangoes using a long stick with a hook or a 'kokka' (in my collo...
Post a Comment
Read more

turtles in our own shells

Sometimes silence can be beautiful and humbling. On World Disabled Day, I went to Cubbon Park's Bal Bhavan for a government-organised function. It was the usual kind of event -- you know, where babus give dry speeches about existing schemes, unused funds and so on and where corporate types stress the need for 'partnerships' (involving big monies and big projects for their own corporate entities!). It was pretty dry, pretty predictable. Then something happened.Some of the deaf and mute adolescents standing on the fringes started carrying on an animated conversation among themselves. As I watched fascinated and a little shamefaced to be such an flagrant observer, the young men laughed, joked, kidded each other -- all in complete, absolute and perfect silence. Hands waving, fingers flaying, eyes rolling, they talked. Of what, I don't know. But I saw their joy. Their utter camaraderie, and harmony. And seeing them, I, in my 'normal' world of speaking tongues and ...
1 comment
Read more

Life lessons from little people

Sometimes children say and do the darndest things. And help you learn something new about life and living.... When little man was just over a year old, he ate a cockroach egg. Or at least, he tried to. But my husband noticed and hurriedly got it out. Baby probably had a taste, though. Ugh. Why did he think he could eat something like that? I realised children don’t subscribe to our notions of ‘good’, ‘bad’ and utterly yuck--till we actually (like I did), have a mini meltdown and yell that they absolutely cannot just pick up shiny, brown objects, just because said objects look interesting! But then children are so open in their approach to life. So trusting, for one thing. For a long time, when he was a baby, he would happily exclaim "Ajja" or ‘Ajji’ (Kannada for ‘grandfather/grandmother') whenever he spotted a white-haired gentleman or lady. He would hold his arms out with a winsome smile. The recipients would coo and respond in kind. Till, my husba...
Post a Comment
Read more