‘I can’t go. I have NOTHING to wear,’ I wail to John whilst rooting through my rucksack like a squirrel after winter nuts.
John can’t believe I’m worrying about fashion at a time like this.
‘I’m serious. I have NOTHING to wear. I can’t go.’ I repeat. It’s a calculated hysteria. I’m hoping this excuse will put paid to the plan to tour Dharavi tomorrow. Dharavi is not, as you might think from this little exchange, a palace, a temple or a Bollywood star’s mansion, it’s the largest slum in Asia.
That numnut from Grand Designs made possibly the worst documentary ever all about it and I wanted to smack him around the head with his unread copy of Shantaram. Clearly the man had not done his homework prior. Unlike John, who hasn’t read Shantaram but who has read the Reality Tours website.
‘It said to dress modestly,’ John reminds me.
I stare at John and don’t say anything. It’s not like I dress like a ho but my bag is packed mainly with bikinis and a very cute shorts jumpsuit I got from Reiss. Not that appropriate for the open sewers of Dharavi.
‘What’s the longest thing you brought with you?’ he says sighing.
I’m wearing it. It’s a gap dress that falls to the knee. ‘It’s fairly modest.’ I say tugging at it (or it would be if I hadn’t somehow lost all my bras). It’s a lie. I do have something longer but it’s so see-through it may as well be the Emperor’s new clothes.
But I can’t accessorise this dress that I am wearing with my converse. I just can’t. It would be wrong. John reminds me it’s either accessorizing with the converse or having an excrement pedicure. I’m about to throw myself on the bed and tantrum when I remember there is a no photo policy on the tour. Which means that there would be no photographic evidence of the fashion crime I would be committing.
John is just relieved Alula isn’t coming too. As if one fashion obsessed female in the house isn’t enough. Yesterday she insisted on wearing her new blue flower dress underneath her pink skirt, underneath her purple butterfly dress. With the tutu on the top and then 3, yes you heard me right, 3 hats stacked like pancakes on her head. Imagine the fuss she would make about what to wear to Dharavi.