Don't Remind Me

Chapter 15: The Urban Contemporary Royalty

"Two weeks worth of winter break seems too less when it comes to recovering from the fall semester. It is with utmost irritation and grumbli-ness that we will welcome you back to these hallowed halls, in a few days. As per usual bipolar Karachi weather, we'll be having record-breaking chilly days AFTER WINTER BREAK IS OVER. So basically, it'll a Jihad if you manage to abandon your warm "Kambal/Razai/Blankets" at 6:30 in the morning...This is the point where the deeply introspective among us ask themselves: "Do I really need that bachelors degree?"-- Nitty Gritty (Issue No: 798, Jan '15)

"I'm not wearing this wrap, it is more transparent than our national elections!" I griped to Mama's senior producer Jami. "I'd rather wear a shuttle-cock Burka than that crap. Capiche?"

My hands were crossed over my chest as I stared him down...from below. Darned tiny legs.

"Darling, believe me, this is the least skin-baring thing I have unearthed from the pieces I have chosen for you." He entreated, in his annoyingly feminine way. If he didn't look like an over-muscled crew member from the Fast and Furious franchise, I'd say that he was a walking stereotype of the fashion world. Every designer has a bald, sexually ambiguous bachelor staff member on their payroll. Jami is Mama's nod to stereotypes, and he has a better eye-liner routine than I ever will. Go figure.

"Well, then, unearth something else." I stomped away from Closet "A", at Hayat HQ, to bump into Mama. She looked tired, with the dark circles under her huge brown eyes making her skin look wrinkly. She looked her age at this moment. A woman on the wrong side of 45. I had a sudden urge to hug her. To tell her that she was the most beautiful woman I know. To tell her that stupid PFW came every year, and that she shouldn't lose her sleep over lame shit like that.

I didn't of course. Because I can be a witch sometimes. The one that starts with a 'B'.

"I hate everything he pulled for me Mama. I swear, if he throws one more backless Choli at me, I'm pulling an Eminem." I added a foot stomp as a period.

"What? what do you mean, you'll pull an Eminem?", Mama's tired eyes crinkled with confusion.

"You know, when he was so cool that he missed the Academy Awards to watch TV with his kid? And he even won that year! Why can't you be cool like him Mama? Just ditch the stupid Walk, and we'll go home and watch Alpha, Bravo, Charlie..."

"Hmm. Tempting. But you know I'm not as- as-Cool as MnM's." She distractedly unraveled the scarf hanging loosely from my neck, and began knotting it in an intricate bow-tie inspired noose around my collar. I mouthed MnM's to myself.

"You're tweaking me Mama." I sighed, shrugging at her scarf-knotting. She was so attuned to perfecting models and their dresses that she was now doing it without even realizing it. My mother needed a break.

"Laylee. Please. For just one day, wear something I pick out for you." She murmured. Making me feel guilty. "I let you go to that concert. Give me one day, without complaining about everything. I need it. Please."

"Then please tell your minions to make something that I might actually wear in real life. I'm not a model Mama! I don't have the looks and, frankly, the body to pull off these impossible dresses."

"You're beautiful, Layla Hayat! and don't you dare let anyone tell you otherwise." Mama glared steely-eyed at me. "I always make sure my models are comfortable wearing the dresses I design for them. I have never compromised creative margins with discomfort, and vice versa. And you know that!"

"Why can't I wear something I choose? Maria is wearing her own dress!"

"She made it herself, and she made sure that my program design for the day wasn't clashing with her design. If you can whip up something along the lines of Contemporary Urban Royalty, in pastel, then sure I can accommodate that." A brow raised sardonically at me, my mother calmly countered my complaints.