I am writing this column from a wellness retreat in the Himalayas which is sort of peak Ab Fab.
When I get bored with talking about my particular health concerns, of which there are apparently many more than I previously thought, I entertain myself by watching ‘tech bros’ sitting cross-legged on the grass, chanting “Om” while wearing their Apple Watches.
I’ve had four-handed massages, physiotherapy, a bath in three litres of oil, joint therapy sessions, emotional healing, cupping, acupuncture, meditation, facials, shiatsu, body scrubs and hatha yoga lessons.
I think the only thing left to perform on me before I check out is an exorcism.
I’m not quite sure we’ve unpacked all of my emotional baggage to be honest, but one thing I didn’t have to unpack was my suitcase, because when I arrived I was given white kurta-style pyjamas to wear for the entire 10 days.
This has been a revelation, a fashion revelation. A lightweight cotton Nehru collared shirt and pant set in white is all you ever need, both men and women.
It looks very chic at breakfast, you wear it for yoga, it’s perfect for lunch on the terrace. At dinner, I simply throw on a pashmina and a pair of sandals and I’m good to go. I could even wear it to bed if I were so inclined.
White on white
I particularly love the fact that the suit is white, with subtle white embroidery on the tunic top, a look which is very elegant and low key.
The other marvellous thing is that a fresh suit appears miraculously in the closet every day, which is something to take into consideration if I feel like recreating this at home.
As fashion uniforms go, this one is a beauty. It’s the type of look that is perfect for humid Australian weather and yet it’s not something I have never considered. My usual version at home is something entirely more ordinary – a linen button through shirt and drawstring pants – which are not only hot, but now I think about it, kind of frumpy.
It’s the cut of the kurta that gives it a timeless elegance. I now hate everything that is sitting, unworn, in my suitcase.
The tech bros here are wearing the Mala necklace they were given on arrival, which I have avoided because I want to steer clear of the full middle-aged cliché of linen separates with colourful beads and an interesting scarf.
I’m more than happy in my minimal whites because it’s hard to compete with the beautiful colours, fabrics and jewellery worn so effortlessly by the people in India.
Why is the West so afraid of colour? We seem to equate wealth and prestige with neutrals. The idea of “stealth wealth” reflected in shades of camel and beige, grey and slate, and discreet jewellery. So while I am very content in my white kurta suit (even if I feel like I’m in Nine Perfect Strangers) I’m certainly taking some style tips from the fashion and colour extravaganza I’ve seen just outside the gates.
