Oh, what a fling!

When I look back upon that day, I’m unable to pinpoint the exact moment we connected. Was it love at first sight? Did we circle around each other, assessing, analysing, calculating? Or was it a moment of madness, of just going in for the kill and finding to our ecstatic surprise that we were really meant to be?

I was hot, irritable and exhausted after a day of pointless shopping. Taxis were being notoriously difficult to find (ever noticed how, wherever you may be in the world, when you don’t need cabs, they seem to be lining up to serve you, but if you’re direly desperate for one, they disappear like most things do on sale day at Selfridge’s — it’s a phenomenon that should be studied). I was positively fainting with thirst when, like an oasis, this lit-up flea market popped up in front of my eyes. I trudged in, looking for ice-cold coconut water and hopefully an information desk with a directory of call-a-taxi numbers, when this wisp of a jumpsuit fluttered on its rack at a stall, beseeching me for an introduction.

Though priced at an abominably nominal amount (1,000 rupees when I did the conversion), that wasn’t what attracted me to it. Maybe it was just those sleek lines, that navy hue, the ease of being able to pull it on — whatever it was, I jumped at it and within seconds it was mine, without a trial or fabric check.

Since then, this 1,000-rupee investment has been a steady companion to a plethora of events. A New Year’s Eve bash where its casual appeal was highlighted with a pair of flame Gucci sandals and my treasured Rachel Zoe lariat necklace; an elite social soirée where I entered guns blazing, adorned by a Chanel Maharani necklace and tone-on-tone smoked indigo heels. A kiddie birthday do saw me team it with sequinned Toms sneakers; a sit-down dinner had a jadau choker to give it company; and a suede jacket and Zanotti boots accompanied it on a Parisian sojourn. Each and every time, my trusted friend has done the trick — stayed crease-free and allowed me the confident air of appearing long and deceptively slim.

At times, I’ve sorely regretted my short-sightedness at not having bought another 10 jumpsuits to take me through the next few years. But then, I’ve always been a serial monogamist. That one special relationship means so much more than a dozen flings. And fashion is as personal as it gets, given that it can dictate what defines and uplifts you.  Who wouldn’t want to give their heart away to a stylishly invincible partner like mine…