prasad1
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[FONT="]Central market in Delhi’s Lajpat Nagar - a neighbourhood that sprang up around Punjabi refugees from West Pakistan - is an shopping institution. By noon, the lanes resemble an outdoor mall with mannequins overwhelmingly trussed up in salwar kameez. A lot about this crowded market is quintessentially Delhi but its biggest trade is no longer unique to the capital.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Neither me nor my friends look at a salwar kameez and think that it’s a ‘north Indian’ style dress,” says Aditi Iyer, a 26-year-old software technician in Chennai. “We all started wearing it because of college. Everyone wore them.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]That is, every young woman in a college in Chennai. Salwar, kameez and churidar — I use the terms loosely to include billowing patialas, fitter pyjamas and shapely churidars that are paired with short, long, boxy or snug kurtas — make for brisk business across India. They sell just as much in Kolkata’s New Market, in Bengaluru’s Commercial Street or Chennai’s Sowcarpet.[/FONT]
[FONT="]What used to be a distinctly “Punjabi” outfit is now a familiar ensemble all over India. Patriarchy, rebellion, Bollywood, the pressures of dressing to work and the lure of comfort have all contributed to its ubiquity. But it’s story is yet to be told.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Unlike the sari, which is often treated as a national wonder, the salwar kameez has never been recognised for the cultural capsule that it is. It arrived from elsewhere, like tailoring itself. Salwar, churidar and kameez are believed to be Persian influences that spread and evolved over centuries of trade, conquest and Muslim rule. The dual garment, according to fashion historian Toolika Gupta, became common in 19th century Punjab when Ranjit Singh’s rule extended up to Kashmir. But it’s history is full of gaps — by the 1940s, it had become acceptable garb for young women in northern cities such as Delhi and Karachi. Divided bottoms were likely better for travelling, especially on public transport, or playing sports.[/FONT]
[FONT="]It took several decades to sweep across India. And what a sweep — the sari lost its place as the default Indian attire; the dupatta, once used to enfold the upper body and even cover the head, became dispensable; and the modest salwar kameez that clothed nearly every inch below the neck turned into a muse for chic, audacious fashion.
...................................................................
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The salwar kameez — in all its flexible, stylish glory — is India’s national dress.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“It’s very pan-Indian,” says 22-year-old Smitha TK, a TV journalist who grew up in Vellore and started wearing salwar kameez in high school.[/FONT]
[FONT="]She finds it easier to report in rural south India in a salwar kameez because “people are more approachable if you are dressed in a way that is familiar to them.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]What about a sari? “It’s a lot of effort,” she says, laughing. “Definitely not for work or normal life.”
http://www.hindustantimes.com/fashion-and-trends/how-the-salwar-went-south-of-delhi/story-rWzBEHdFyctJ69svSaY6wO.html[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Neither me nor my friends look at a salwar kameez and think that it’s a ‘north Indian’ style dress,” says Aditi Iyer, a 26-year-old software technician in Chennai. “We all started wearing it because of college. Everyone wore them.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]That is, every young woman in a college in Chennai. Salwar, kameez and churidar — I use the terms loosely to include billowing patialas, fitter pyjamas and shapely churidars that are paired with short, long, boxy or snug kurtas — make for brisk business across India. They sell just as much in Kolkata’s New Market, in Bengaluru’s Commercial Street or Chennai’s Sowcarpet.[/FONT]
[FONT="]What used to be a distinctly “Punjabi” outfit is now a familiar ensemble all over India. Patriarchy, rebellion, Bollywood, the pressures of dressing to work and the lure of comfort have all contributed to its ubiquity. But it’s story is yet to be told.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Unlike the sari, which is often treated as a national wonder, the salwar kameez has never been recognised for the cultural capsule that it is. It arrived from elsewhere, like tailoring itself. Salwar, churidar and kameez are believed to be Persian influences that spread and evolved over centuries of trade, conquest and Muslim rule. The dual garment, according to fashion historian Toolika Gupta, became common in 19th century Punjab when Ranjit Singh’s rule extended up to Kashmir. But it’s history is full of gaps — by the 1940s, it had become acceptable garb for young women in northern cities such as Delhi and Karachi. Divided bottoms were likely better for travelling, especially on public transport, or playing sports.[/FONT]
[FONT="]It took several decades to sweep across India. And what a sweep — the sari lost its place as the default Indian attire; the dupatta, once used to enfold the upper body and even cover the head, became dispensable; and the modest salwar kameez that clothed nearly every inch below the neck turned into a muse for chic, audacious fashion.
...................................................................
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The salwar kameez — in all its flexible, stylish glory — is India’s national dress.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“It’s very pan-Indian,” says 22-year-old Smitha TK, a TV journalist who grew up in Vellore and started wearing salwar kameez in high school.[/FONT]
[FONT="]She finds it easier to report in rural south India in a salwar kameez because “people are more approachable if you are dressed in a way that is familiar to them.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]What about a sari? “It’s a lot of effort,” she says, laughing. “Definitely not for work or normal life.”
http://www.hindustantimes.com/fashion-and-trends/how-the-salwar-went-south-of-delhi/story-rWzBEHdFyctJ69svSaY6wO.html[/FONT]