Sari, the embodiment of someone’s identity

I find personal pleasure in draping yards of soft fabric fluidly over my body; adjusting the folded pleats carefully which tucks into the petticoat and pull the material to suit a particular form, translating into a sartorial sense of elegance. The sari creates an embodiment of grace and conceals as much as it reveals. It reflects and communicates, evoking a feeling of nostalgia, memory, and identity. Wearing a sari is second nature to me and more often worn at celebratory events. My luxurious saris occupy the wardrobe and I stumble across a range of colourful ones. I reach out to a ruby red satin-silk sari and unravel the metres of fabric, feeling smooth against my skin; the smell derived from sericin in the silkworm gum and the rustling sound of silk determines its quality. The cropped sleeveless blouse has seven hook and eyes secured down the centre front seam. I add stylish trainers to the attire and wear a large coat to cover any revealing skin. I nervously hop onto the tube expecting to have eyes judging me, but it was surprisingly quiet. At university in England wearing a sari, is quite unheard of and given it was first experience of this, I felt strangely nauseous, exposed, and apprehensive – yet comfortable. After hearing compliments from peers, I felt at ease. I vividly remember someone say, “You look like you are dressed to go to an event.” This led me to ask, is culturally dressing not deemed professional?