Warning: Long post!=)
I live in a small city that some even call a “big urban village” because most people know each other and there is always a big chance you’ll bump into someone you know whilst walking around center/downtown. I have been here for quite a while and it is the place I now call home. It’s not the sweetest home sweet home sort of place but it is that place I want to come home too when I need to “feel” at home. But I have a love and hate relationship with it that I miss it when I am away but escape from it every three months or so. I escape from the expensive taxis and the mean drivers, the over-expensive coffee and the tiny-sized $7 cheesecake, that worst than New Delhi traffic, those scary police, the horrible wind, the oily beach, parks that don’t allow dogs, and people who seem to have never seen a lady wearing a men’s inspired hat in their lives. But after a month in glitzy Dubai where I always go when I need a break from all of these little “nasties”, I begin to crave for my little “big urban village”.
I miss the local fresh brewed tea, the sweetest tomatoes in the whole wide world, my favourite table in my favourite cafe, the always crowded fountain square, the people who love to stare and who always think we (Asians) are all Japanese and that we all have black belts in Karate (the same people who always say “Ni hao ma” when you pass-by, thinking that’s also Japanese I assume), and the women, who are always dressed up, good or bad, their salon-fixed hair and never-make-up-free faces, with their towering heels (even in the snow) and their suited boyfriends all shod in the same black leather formal shoes, who even chaperone them to the loo and patiently wait there for them (outside). The proud mothers who walk around and show everybody how beautiful their young (unmarried) daughters are. The other mothers who walk around with their mothers on one side, their daughters on the other, and pushing their daughter’s daughter (or son possibly, but that doesn’t sound as good) in a pram. That parent-child bond that is amazingly unbreakable, and something I don’t see in other places, not in my own country. Mothers walking hand in hand with their fifty something sons on a sunday afternoon. The young boys who go parading their big bad dogs in our most popular street (aka runway) to impress the girls, and the same girls who giggle when these boys pass. I miss the old city and the stories that are ingrained on every wall, with each scarred brick and the tell-tale doors. The old carpet vendor too, who always treated us like tourists, as if it’s really the very first time he’s seen us. Our janitor come security guard who is always willing to carry the grocery bags up to our place because he thinks we girls are too skinny to survive the climb. Our old cleaning lady who doesn’t speak a single word of English but always smiles the most genuine smile.That one legged beggar who always props himself up in the same spot in our street; the only beggar Diddy would give alms to, and who mumbles a prayer (in some ancient language) of blessing for us whenever we pass whether or not we make a contribution to his upkeep. I miss that little café which serves the best Tuna salad on earth! And yes, I even miss the expensive coffee and tiny-sized $7 Cheesecake!
This city is where i bought my first dress; where I developed a love affair with Stella McCartney; where i finally cut my eternally-long hair and it was this particular city that saw me first in my band clothes and then watched intently as that rock singer transformed into a camera- carrying, turban-wearing blogger. It’s in this very city where i first started to wear a copycat of my husband’s shoes, a guy’s hat and my nerdy glasses. This is the city, that doesn’t know the word “Vintage”. The city that always thought i looked strange but let me be and which eventually got used to crazy foreigners like me. The same city that is half Turkish – half Russian, but always 100% Azeri. The city that brought me my beautiful dogs and a great man to hold my hand when i can’t walk in my amazing but impractical shoes. The same city that accommodated a lost ‘New York’ attitude. This outfit is not Baku, not at all.
But it was the city that inspired me to wear it, the city that watched me wear it, and the city that waits to see what this crazy city girl will wear next.=)
So yep, this is my little entry for the Olsenboye City Girl.=) Honestly not for the win but for the chance to talk about my little city and show my take on casual wear.=) So goodluck to the other entries and whoever wins please say hello to the twins for me!!! =) Argh!! These contests are fun!=) Next one will be the “Winter Shoe” and i will show you guys my beloved boots, my official AW10-11 boots.=)
For more (of this look and another one) please visit the LAIR
Thank you so much for still keeping this page going. You know i love you.=)
Love Love Kiss Kiss