How to Dress for Success (aka "How to Snag a Maharaja")

I had so much fun at the first wedding I attended in India that I leapt at the chance to go to another.  So when I was invited to two more, I was psyched.  When I found out that they were the same day, I was a little bit less psyched.  Oh well, at least it was efficient!

And like any princess invited to a ball, I needed something fabulous to wear.  Two of the analysts from my previous team volunteered to help me out with the purchase.  Best of all, they brought in a ringer: one of their moms—very helpful for price negotiations.  They declared that nothing but a trendy sari would do for the event and had me meet them at a sari shop in north Delhi one Saturday (yes, my analysts are THAT nice!). 

Now the sari dressing buying process is not like picking up a dress for a formal in the United States.  No, no, no…that would be too simple.  Here’s how it goes:

The first step is going to the dress shop.  The dress shop is completely owned and operated by men (for some reason), but filled with women.  There are hundreds of different fabrics stacked on all the walls and the women sit across from them as the men display them: “yes or no?”  It’s quite an experience, involving tea/coffee/water and some eye for fashion (which I don’t have) and price (which I do).  In the end, my crew chose 4 or so patterns for me to be draped with.  Next step is standing in front of a mirror while the guy wraps the sari fabric around you to see how the color and style go with your complexion.  See below for some of the results.

I voted blue, but was out-voted by my fashion contingent (2 analysts plus 1 smart mother).  Pink is not normally my thing, but it seems very popular in India.  Also popular right now: the sheer fabric of the sari.  Again, not my thing (read: I did sit-ups every morning and evening until the wedding to prepare), but popular in India. 

So I bought the fabric, but the sari shopping experience does not stop there!  Then you need to give the dress shop more time as they dye the material for the petticoat and re-sew and adjust the long piece of fabric.  Following that, you need to take the fabric to a tailor who then makes the top and petticoat for you (I mean cut out a pattern, sew it together, etc.).  Yup, they measure and fit it right to you.  The whole process of buying a sari takes over a week at minimum.  The good news: it still costs the same as a US semi-formal dress despite the extra labor.

The final act in this story was the wedding preparation itself.  My friend Karan’s Aunty took the time to dress me in the sari (can you believe she only used 2 pins) and even stuck a matching bhindi (the “third eye”) on my head.  What do you think?