Aparna Das

In one of those snooty boutiques, there once hung a proud white shirt, amongst others. The snobby white linen shirt told the yellow one hanging next to her, ‘see, she is back again! Look how she stares through the window….look at her shoes for Gods sakes’.

Next day the white shirt nudged the green one on her right, and said – ‘there she comes again. God, some one shoo her away, lest she kills me with her nasty gawk. Ugh!’

A few days later the woman was back again, and this time she tried on the snooty white shirt. ‘Yuck’, the White shirt squirmed, ‘you stink….Geeez, get me off you’.

Need size large in this one, please’ , the woman asks the sales girl. ‘Sorry ma’am, we are out of stock on that one. This one’s the only one left – size XS.
‘Serves you right, fatso’ the white shirt hollered.

The woman left only to be back the next day to check if the white one was still hanging in there.

A few months pass, the yellows and greens go, the white one remains. Albeit, now a shade of cream. Six months later, the woman comes back. This time she looked slimmer, smelt of Elizabeth Arden and walked on Jimmy Choos. She goes straight up to the white shirt, now hanging several rows behind reds and blues, no where near the window, picks her up and heads to the cashier. ‘You get a 50% off ma’am, the cashier informs the woman’.

Once home, she brings her out, put her up on a cheap aluminum hanger, and hangs her next to the cheap clothes she had picked from the streets of Dadar. Before shutting the wardrobe , the woman hisses ‘ serves you right, cheapo’.


Poster in a trial room/ boutique