Thursday, January 03, 2008

What to Wear? A Primah, dahlings!

It’s obvious when I say this: the great Indian job market is opening up for women, and they are going all out, nay, fighting it out in the job space. But a bit of advice is needed, women friends, about workplace dressing standards and etiquette. I mean this as gentle advice to my gentle friends. So, please pay heed, if you are in the mood, or else turn up your nose and say, “Kya men, you are like this only, kaiko we listen to you, men?” The following items of dressing please avoid in the office as they aren’t considered formal:

Figure-hugging jeans (especially if you have flesh hanging out of them like jackfruit)
Capris (unless you have sexy calves)
Mini-skirts (comfortable for you but not for us, dahlings)
Micro-minis (a girl wore it to office recently, and men took turns to stare up and down her skirt)
Slit skirts (sexy for a party, but avoid)
Party dress (too shiny, unless you want to, obviously, patao the bossman)
Tank tops (in the still predominantly male bastion of the office men stare, you know, luv)

I may be sexist, but the following proves I am the disadvantaged sex:

Yesterday I was subject to the worst of sexual discrimination. Early morning there aren’t any rickshaws available and this sweet-sixteen-something and I are standing side by side and the rickshawallah purposefully offers her the ride and not me.

Again yesterday, another time another place, stilettos in jeans and I both wave to a rickshaw and the rickshaw decides to swerve in her direction and not mine. I mean, how mean could rickshawallahs be?

1 comment:

Alankrita said...

Let us also include dirty clothes, uncoordinated shorts-ties-shoes-trousers for me, loud checks, colors like puke green, violent violet, peackock blue on men's shirts., Hair-oil of the dripping variety-again a male problem, let us exclude the snorting, sniffing, chewing of pan masala, zarda, sweating minus a deodorant, the expelling of noisome bodily gases... and also wonder on why the male portion of the office population has the right to smell, scratch, and on the whole be as scruffy as they can- is it male privilege...?