A reality check in America
Where 'National Outlet Shopping Day' is a thing
I have much to write about my two weeks in America, which is how my daughter’s bestie, who might as well have travelled with us for all the number of hours she was with Aadyaa on WhatsApp, referred to our vacation destination. But I will start with an American experience of unabashed consumerism - visiting an Outlet Mall. Not ironically at all, during our time there, that amusing country celebrated the National Outlet Shopping Day. I am not talented enough to make this up. Apparently, this annual event takes place on the second Saturday of June.
We did not visit on this special day, but our visit was special nevertheless, for it allowed me to observe the absolute single-mindedness and meticulousness with which my 16-year-old navigated this space. As I would in a museum, she perused the map and list of outlets in the mall, identified the must-visit brands, and then calmly went about browsing, selecting, evaluating, and purchasing, all well within the budget we had given her.
In contrast, I had a massive meltdown on Outlet Mall Day (ours, not America’s). I’ll attribute some of this to premenstrual hormones and a squabble with my darling teen, but mostly, I had real anxiety about shopping. Sitting on a bench outside Abercrombie & Fitch, howling and trying to breathe, I remembered my 23-year-old self doing the same in a basement store in Delhi’s GK1 M-Block market. It was a day before Graduation. While the decision to wear Mummy’s cream Assamese silk saree for the ceremony had been made easy by a prescriptive dress code, I had nothing new for the afterparty. I wanted to find Western wear that made me feel stylish and happy, in keeping with the celebratory occasion of graduating with a 5-year Bachelor’s degree in Architecture.
My eternally skinny and fashion-aware friend Rachna (still stylish and slim) had kindly agreed to accompany me to the stores. I tried outfit after outfit in store after store and failed to find anything that fit me. Ultimately, I broke down. I remember Rachna, who was always casually ribbing me about my plumpness, trying to find the right words to calm an unconsolable me.
I had carried shame about my body, which had transitioned from skinny to well-rounded in the last few years of school, for far too long. That evening, something inside me broke, and I could not hold it anymore. All my achievements and positive experiences since High School - getting good marks, being school Headgirl, cracking college entrances, extracurricular successes, a loving boyfriend, a supportive family, many, many friends, and completing my degree - seemed not to matter, and all I wanted was a dress that fitted. Eventually, we bought a new pair of jeans and a shimmery figure-hugging knit top in a lovely powder blue. The party went well, and life went well enough too - through grad school, marriage, kids and so on, I learnt to live with the shame I felt with my body.
In the last few years, I think I had tricked myself into believing that I had overcome body shame. Or at least learnt to manage it. I had elevated coping mechanisms like turning my preferred body hiding Indian wear into a style statement, flaunting sarees, big bindis, and accessories with panache. Simultaneously, I also worked on internally dismantling notions about ideal body types and learning to accept my looks for what they are. Last year, on a vacation in Thailand, I bought and wore my first bikini and felt an exhilarating freedom in sharing such a first with my daughter. Rahul and the kids do me a great favour by treating these behaviours as utterly normal, neither discouraging nor making me conscious by overtly encouraging me.
As she grows older, I notice Aadyaa demonstrating the amazing awareness of her generation as she gently nudges me towards body positivity. A few days before the Outlet Mall outing, she and I spent an afternoon in New York City perusing thrift stores. Thrifting is a rage with Gen Z because sustainability is cool, and finding great deals is still cooler! Compared to the meagre online thrifting options in India, the in-person experience was exciting for her, especially the delight of finding great brands with tags and labels still on them, indicating no one had worn these clothes. As a prize for being a patient mommy, she even found me three fabulous pieces of clothing, each more outrageous than the other - a pair of embroidered retro jeans, a denim tube top, and a bling white denim short skirt in which she thought my “ass looked nice”!
Recently, I have been comforted by the thought that an older me worries less about appearances. I genuinely believed that I was past the point of feeling acutely sensitive about my body. Until that moment outside the Outlet Malls, when the sheer range of options before me and the terrifying prospect of trying (and not fitting into) outfit after outfit reminded me of the truth. I will be yo-yo-ing on the see-saw of body shame and acceptance forever, and I must be ok with it.
Shot in an NYC thrift store, as I waited outside the trial rooms
I loved reading this. I wonder if body shame never leaves/ or is always entering us and we have to be constantly (and exhaustingly) vigilant about evicting it. I’m hopeful the next generation of women finally kick it out of the door.
First a big hug! All of us who have gone from being thin to becoming “healthy” have faced some kind of body shaming. I love it that you have written abt it. Good for you! Btw I think you look fab in the photograph Mukta.