Breakfast Babble is ED’s own little space on the interwebs where we gather to discuss ideas and get pumped up (or not) for the day. We judge things, too. Sometimes. Always. Whatever, call it catharsis and join in, people.
Today’s breakfast babble stars the epic, soul-draining, borderline mythological quest for the Perfect Kurti. A rage you feel in every inch of your nerves when you see everyone wearing a ‘perfect’ kurti except yourself, no matter how much you invest your efforts into the search, online store included.
The irony becomes all the more ironical when you are from Jaipur – the land of Gulab Chand, Bapu bazaar and all the amazing motifs you could find, wish and manifest. I’m not being dramatic (okay, maybe 8% dramatic), but have you tried recently?
You walk into a store or, worse, scroll through 943 options online, and you start with hope – real, innocent, borderline naïve hope – with a hint of desperation to find a basic kurtic that is universally appealing.
Now, what is universally appealing? Something simple. Not too plain, not too blingy. Flowy but not shapeless. Structured but not bossy. You want sleeves, but not full sleeves. Slits, but not side vents that start at your rib cage. A neckline that’s modest but doesn’t scream “Aunty ji at PTA meeting.”
Too much to ask? Apparently, yes.
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And if by some miracle, you do find a kurti that ticks all the boxes? Congratulations, now kindly hand over your kidney, half your liver, and your next three paychecks, because apparently, good taste comes with organ donation forms now.
What you get instead: A psychedelic explosion of florals no eye should witness before 10 am. “Indie” block prints that look like they were designed by someone hallucinating on turmeric. Kurtis with motivational quotes stitched into the hemline. (Why is my clothing yelling “Smile More” at me?) Or the ultra-minimalist kind that looks like hospital scrubs from a dystopian future.
And don’t even get me started on lengths. Why is it either tunic short like it’s running from commitment or ankle-grazing like it’s auditioning for Mahabharat?
You try on 12. None fit. The salesperson lies to your face: “It’s supposed to be a free size!” Ma’am, it looks like I’m smuggling a parachute. Eventually, you settle for something that’s “fine,” and thus, the search continues.
Honestly, if someone cracks the code for The Perfect Kurti – fit, fabric, flair within a budget – they deserve a national award, free chai for life, and possibly a Netflix documentary.
Until then, I’ll be here. Still scrolling, still spiralling and still wondering when my perfect kurti will come into my life like Karan Arjun to Durga.
Image Credits: Google Images
Sources: Blogger’s own opinion
Find the blogger: Sejal Agarwal
This post is tagged under: kurti shopping india, perfect kurti struggle, fashion humour india, jaipur shopping guide, gulab chand jaipur, bapu bazaar shopping, ethnic wear india, indian fashion woes, women’s fashion india, online kurti shopping, indian outfit struggles, desi fashion reality, quirky fashion blog india, relatable fashion india, shopping rant india, wardrobe crisis india, everyday wear india, fashion meltdown india, kurti trends 2025, indian fashion satire
Disclaimer: We do not hold any rights or copyrights over the images used, as they were sourced from Google. If you would like credit or wish for an image to be removed, please contact us via email.
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