KERRE MCIVOR

KERRE HAS A WARDROBE MALFUNCTION WHILE INTERVIEWING A FAMILY IN INDIA

Ithought I had my wardrobe for India sorted. I’m travelling here on a special media project and it’s been heartbreaking, heart-warming and inspirational all at the same time. All will be revealed in October!

Anyway, I know that it’s inappropriate to show legs in India, especially in some of the out-of-the-way rural areas we were going to be visiting. Some of the kids would never have seen a strange woman’s legs before and I certainly didn’t want mine to be the first! Although I suppose things could only improve...

Suffice to say, I didn’t want to frighten the horses or the children and I was advised that the more you make an attempt to dress like the locals, the more they appreciate it. So I found a couple of cool, lightweight trousers and threw in a couple of tunic-style dresses that would more or less look like salwar kameez, the outfits worn by so many Indian women. I bought a proper Indian salwar kemeez on my arrival in Delhi, and a couple of scarves to throw over my head, so I thought that I’d be good to go.

However, I had no idea what it would be like to live and work in this heat and humidity. When I lived in Hamilton, I hated the humidity there in the height of summer. You’d have a shower and by the time you’d stepped out and dried yourself, you’d be drenched in sweat all over again. India in August is like Hamilton on steroids. And it’s not even the hottest time of the year!

We were lucky enough to be staying in air-conditioned hotels, so when we stepped out into the heat every morning, it felt like being slapped in the face with a hot, wet towel. For the first few days, I was fine. I wore my Indian salwar and then a Kathmandu set that I’d worn in sub-tropical climates before, so although I was hot, I wasn’t uncomfortable.

The third day was a different story. I was wearing a tunic I wear as a dress at home and had paired it with trousers, but by the time we’d sat in a small house interviewing a lovely family about how they’d managed to send their child back to school, I was so wet and hot and uncomfortable, I wanted to scream. The tunic was stiff with sweat and felt disgusting against my skin.

We were supposed to be going to lunch after the interview but I asked if I could please go back to the hotel and shower and change instead of eating. Laura and Gabriel, the team leaders, conferred with Mridula, our local Indian contact, and she suggested that as the hotel was in the opposite direction to where we were travelling, we stop off at a clothing shop next to the restaurant where we had our reservation. They would have suitable clothing there and it would be as cheap as chips. My words, not Mridula’s, but the sentiment was the same.

That seemed like a good compromise. I didn’t want to be a prima donna and although I would have loved a shower, I had wet wipes with me that would do the trick. So into the clothing store we went and ten minutes later, out I came, in a new cotton tunic with two spares all for forty dollars. I didn’t bother trying them on – I just asked the man to pick out some in my size. He was spot on – I bet he judges cattle in his spare time. And I’m as cool as a cucumber now.

As for my tunic dress, I checked the label and it was made out of viscose – not a completely natural fibre, apparently, but nor is it a synthetic one. It falls somewhere inbetween. The tunic itself has fallen to the bottom of the suitcase and there it shall stay until I can wear it in a more suitable climate.