Short stories from Nagaland: A young man’s maiden visit to a clothing showroom doesn’t go as planned

I am not someone who frequents showrooms, and it is for a rather simple but unusual reason: something about them makes me feel inadequate.

The proportion-perfect mannequins staring out from the storefronts clad in immaculate fashion; the room-sized posters of spectacularly sculpted models flashing their pearly teeth; the squeaky clean, tiled floor polished to a slippery shine; the mechanical attendants tailing you around the aisles armed with the most refined brand of courteousness; the soul-stripping dressing rooms reflecting every flaw back at you; the sophisticated shoppers who go about with an air of elegance, sifting through the displays and making witty remarks about the materials; the invasive smile on the face of the cashier judging your every purchase.

I shop cheap and had been doing so unapologetically for as long as I can remember.

There was this new showroom in PR Hill, which opened a month ago to much fanfare – the proprietor had bought a full-page spread in all the local dailies for a full week prior to the opening day. The showroom – one giant building with four floors – sold high-end, branded apparel and footwear with hefty price tags.

In the evenings when I go out to buy groceries from the merry Lotha women seated...

Read more

News