the art of draping a sari

(FYI: sari or saree are both correct.) Women everywhere in India wore saris.  They are not limited to special occasions but almost all of the women I saw in small villages wore beautiful colored saris in bright pinks and turquoise and oranges while going about their normal day--hanging out wash, doing the shopping, riding on the backs of scooters with the pallu (the part that hangs down the back and is often more decorative than the rest of the sari) flapping in the wind.  Just lovely!  I bought a sari from a reputable Indian company online to wear to some of the wedding events, and put some serious effort into learning to drape it successfully, but it is much harder than it looks.  It is not easy to get it all wrapped around yourself and tucked and pinned in any fashion, but to do it the correct way, for a novice, seemed impossible.  And if it is not done the correct way, you WILL stick out in India.

A sari is typically eight yards (ack!) of fabric. A sari truly is one-size-fits-all.  It's all in the draping. I must've watched fifty different videos. This one, for example.  (Looks easy, right?)  I also went to my friend Pallavi's house so she could show me in person.  Firstly, she told me that I had purchased a sari which was a difficult fabric to drape correctly.  I'd chosen an "advanced skills" sari.  Bummer.  Also, my sari did not have a "fall" which is something that, if you know anything about saris, you know must be added to the sari after purchasing.  I did not know this, nothing on any website mentioned it, and we were leaving in two days, so adding a five foot fabric strip to my sari in the right location was not going to happen.  We both gave up on this sari, and Pallavi loaned me hers.  I thought I had a handle on draping it, but when it came down to it on the big day, I did not do it correctly at all.  I was a mess, by Indian standards, as were all of the other American women who had attempted saris.

Enter the aunties. The aunties, both about four and a half feet tall, took it upon themselves to right our wrongs, sari-wise.  We had all managed to drape ourselves in eight yards of filmy silk, but apparently not in any way that was considered appropriate or attractive for an Indian goat herding, much less wedding. The aunties came out of nowhere, clucking and tutting, and attacked us enmasse.  They hurried us all into an alcove and started in, one sorry sari at a time.  This was not a fast process.  There are many wraps and pleats. The pleats, I learned, are all important.  Sloppy pleats are the Indian equivalent of going out with your skirt tucked into your tights or maybe your bra straps showing.  And the underskirt must be tied tightly enough to almost cut off circulation if it is to hold up the eight yards of fabric. After the tying and wrapping, the tucking and pleating and pinning, they stood back and consulted each other as we stood with our arms akimbo, trying not to mess anything up. Slowly, but with amazing skill and dexterity, they worked through all eight of us. We did look better, and the outfit was vastly more comfortable when done correctly.  We all hugged the aunties, thanked them profusely, and went off gaily to the wedding events, knowing that we were properly dressed.  I saw the aunties several more times that day, looking one of us over from head to toe, nodding, pointing, and consulting each other on the success of their work.

A couple of days later, I was wearing some loose Indian pants and a tshirt.  The pants are gathered and tied with a string through the waist.  I ran into the aunties once again and, again, they pulled me into an alcove.  Were were they coming from?  Were they just lingering in the halls in the capacity of fashion police?  The head auntie retied my pants firmly and stuck the string completely inside the pants.  She said to me, "You must tuck the string inside, each and every time."  Lesson learned.  Left on my own, I am one sloppy dresser.

I got a total hoot out of this.  I still can't drape a sari, but I remember to tuck my pants string in, each and every time.  Photo: a tiny sampling of some of the beautiful saris in a shop in Jaipur, India.