Indian Colour In The Black Country

 You wouldn't have spotted this chiffon & lamé number peeping out of my improved wardrobe as it's been on the mending pile for the past 12 months. The last time I wore it I heard a sickening rip and, on further inspection, realised I'd badly torn the sleeve. I blame my bulging biceps I've developed from my thirty minute a day workout on the Wii Fit.

On the train from Mangalore, sharing a bag of chilli banana chips with a stranger, she remarked, I'm very happy to finally meet someone from your country who doesn't dress plainly, I thought all Westerners did.


Diane Vreeland once said that Pink is the navy blue of India. Unlike in our "developed world," you won't see the masses here clad in grey & black.


Heat & noise aside, the main thing I notice when I'm back in the UK is the absence of vibrant colour on our streets.


In India everyone embraces colour, regardless of age or gender.


As children we love colour but then we grow up and get scared. We try to blend in, imprisoning ourselves within the boundaries of fashion and perceived good taste.


I say stuff grown-up dressing, embrace colour and everybody will be too dazzled by your clothes to notice the wrinkles. It works for me.


I hope shoe-horning a few gratuitous travel photos in the blog pleased those of you sweet enough to ask for more (as if I need any encouragement).

We're outside on Saturday, trading at Nottingham's Fayre in the Square, come and see us if you can. We'll be dressed like polar explorers (brightly dressed ones!)

Updated to link to Judith's Hat Attack #20.

See you soon.

* The Black Country, the part of the Midlands where we live, was named during the Industrial Revolution because of the black soot in the air from the heavy industry that dominated the area.