Bows before bros

It may have taken her 25 years to find her style, but now that she has, SADAF SHAIKH has no plans of being derailed by new trends or naysayers

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STANDING IN FRONT of a mirror, I count the number of bows in my reflection. Two securing my bangs on either side of my head. One at the end of the sash knotted around my waist. Four on the pair of socks I recently snagged in Tokyo. Two on my shiny new ballet flats, also from Tokyo. A grand total of nine. Behind me, my father watches, amused. “I don’t think teenage you and present you would've been friends,” he says, mussing my hair. “Dad!” I grumble, carefully rearranging the bows.

My father’s observation is not off the mark. Growing up, I had a sparse wardrobe—two pairs of jeans, baggy cargo pants in black, brown, grey and beige and an assortment of tees emblazoned with slogans that made no sense. These took up a third of my closet. The remaining space was claimed by the hopefuls: ruffle-neck blouses purchased by Mum for me to wear to my best friend’s birthday, dresses gifted to me by relatives for special occasions, off-shoulder tees foisted on me by well-meaning friends hoping to give me a makeover. Every time I stood in front of the almirah after my shower, I could hear them sigh expectantly, yet I faithfully reached for my oversized shorts and muscle tank.