Friday, April 15, 2011

Finding Fabric

Back in January I was in the Uyghur material market shopping for fabric to have a dress made. I had a basic idea of what I was looking for, but as I started to wonder through booths waiting for something to jump out at me, I was accosted by many eager sales people. In good local tradition some of the sellers grabbed bolts of fabric and actually intersect my path as they loudly called out to me and waved the material in front of my face: “Miss you like this one, very cheap for you, I give you good price”. Normally the items they chose to show off to me are about the last thing I would ever consider buying. I remember on this particular occasion one man was determined to show off one particular pattern. He stood there lovely running his figures over this brightly colored fabric. “This would look very pretty against your white skin miss” he said as he held the end of the roll up to my face. The hideous material looked like it had fireworks exploding all over it in multiple shocking colors. These bright bursts were in a shocking pink, and electric yellow and even and an over the top green. My tastes have changed greatly since living overseas (my family use to be known for our love of a lackluster navy color wardrobe and now I proudly don atlas for any formal event), but this rainbow explosion seemed to me they type of pattern only a Uyghur person could truly appreciate the beauty of. I politely shook my head to indicate it wasn’t quite what I was looking for, but he insisted again that it looked great on me.

Considering my strong revolution to the material he had suggested, you can imagine my surprise when shopping at the mall this week in Canada to see a dress made out of the exact same fabric. I had gone into the store and the woman at the counter had greeted me upon my entrance telling me to feel free to look around. As I searched through the racks of summer dresses I saw a section filled with outrageous patterns. Sure enough right in their midst was the explosive fireworks of color that I had turned my nose up to on the other side of the world. The dress was a shot, tub top style (something no Uyghur women would ever wear for the sake of modestly), even in light of its lack of material it was still the most flashy one hanging there. I guess I should have listened better to my local Uyghur sales man; it would have looked great on my skin and allowed me to be in fashion on both sides of the world.

1 comment:

Beth said...

That's unbelievable!! Too bad you don't have pictures!