I grew up watching my mother spend most of her time in bed. Sometimes she would watch TV for hours on end, sometimes she would spend entire afternoons chatting with her friends on the phone, and sometimes she would nap all day with reckless abandon. Ah! It seemed so wonderful to an irritable little girl like me who despised waking up for school. As I grew older, I began to realise that my mother’s lifestyle was actually driving her crazy. But that’s beside the point. I grew up coveting the notion of ‘Bed Life’ - the total amount of time spent in bed binge-watching TV shows (thank you Netflix) or browsing social media - and always dreamed of the day when I could live the same comfortable life. My dreams have changed, of course. I started working straight out of college, but that just made me appreciate Bed Life even more. After all, we can only truly appreciate something when it isn’t readily available to us.
With more and more Pakistani women opting out of perpetual Bed Life, and with the recent launch of my flagship store in Lahore, I have been spending a lot of time (in bed, yes) thinking about the trials and tribulations of being a working woman in Lahore. It’s true, being a woman in Pakistan is hard. We don’t have the freedom to dress as we like, talk as we like, party as we like, or marry as we like. If you’ve read anything written by me ever, you’ve probably heard me whine about all this plenty of times. But ladies, despite all the troubles, aren’t we glad to be women? Granted, being a member of the upper-class helps, but we take what we can get, right? Like, for example, I’ve been driving for two years now without a driver’s license and have managed to cry my way out of five tickets. I also don’t have to stand in line at NADRA when I renew my passport, and I never get patted down at JFK . Heck, as Pakistani women, we can work towards our passions and goals and be fashion designers all at the same time. Isn’t that amazing? Sure, we hate each other’s guts, but at least we can now be enemies for good reason.
The urban Pakistani woman surprises the author with how presentable she is - even in a workout
Sunny Sundays in winter months are perhaps the loveliest of all days in the year, especially in landlocked Lahore. The crisp sunlight cuts through the moderate chill, creating the perfect temperature for the ultimate fashion ensemble. Fancy coats, pricey sunglasses, and tall heels are all possible, all at once. On such Sundays, the elite of the city like to gather at the Polo Lounge to enjoy a ‘happening’ brunch and a confusing horse show. Therefore, it was no surprise when I asked a group of my closest friends to join me for a lovely afternoon to celebrate the opening of my very first store in Lahore. As I walked in, I spotted a pair of shoes that I instantly recognized - I would have pretended not to notice their presence, but on this particularly cloudy day, the gold sequined heels seemed to be generating enough sunlight for the entire crowd. The owner of these shoes, Maya (the Queen of all B-class socialites), was sitting on the table next me, taking a drag from a cigarette that died three drags ago. Yes, Maya has made a great career for herself as a fashion editor. Yes, one could also say she’s a good role model for young women. No, I haven’t been too fond of her since she conveniently forgot to invite me to a brunch some years ago. She stopped me as I was heading out to ask me about my newest collection (I am a famous Fashion Designer now, after all). Needless to say, I ended the conversation by putting on my most ‘sincerely fake’ smile and commenting on how much I really liked her shoes, just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear.
Though they sweat and display all signs of a body in action, their hair doesn't seem to move an inch
***
With the rise of the working woman also comes the rise of the ‘working out’ woman. Yes, she might have three kids, straighten her hair for the gym, and choose to wear jeggings instead of track pants, but she is vicious. I mean, seriously guys, I’m a young 20-something who’s been working out for what, like 2 years? I am an amateur when it comes to these women. They may not look the part, but they can outrun even the buffest of men, and they squat better than they sit down on a chair. Really. They also manage to work out for hours at a time, and even though they sweat (hydration, ladies) and display all the regular signs of a body in action, their hair doesn’t seem to move an inch. Really. I’m not really sure how that happens, but I’m hoping that after about ten years of consistently working out in jeggings and Under Armour, I might figure it out.
Every Monday, Maya takes a break from her regular workout routine and simply runs on the treadmill. She uses this time to listen to her favorite songs, organise her workweek, and fantasize about scenarios where she bests other people via witty conversation and sly facial expressions. On this Monday, Maya kept thinking about Sunday brunch?. She was well aware that Zara had insulted her, but she didn’t care. Ugh! ‘How did a goody-two-shoes like Zara ever break through the industry?’ she wondered. It didn’t matter. She had gone home and placed her heels back in her closet. She was proud of them. She felt they set her apart from the predictable fashion of Lahore’s bratty beauties. And of course, Maya loved making enemies, especially those she could easily destroy. As she jumped off the treadmill, an auntie who regularly works out at her gym stopped in front of her. Smiling, she pointed to Maya’s bright orange and green Nike’s. ‘I love your shoes!’ she exclaimed, the disdain evident on her face. Maya handed the pair of shoes to a beggar at a traffic light before heading home.
