To make sure there was no goof up on that front, she got a trial blouse stitched by a tailor in our area. It came out perfect. Since he passed the test, he was given the 'real' thing. Every once concerned was happy and confident. And why not?
On the other hand, the last time I got my trouser or shirt stitched was in the last century. [It was not always the case though. I still remember: we were to catch a morning train (Deccan Express) for Pune from Miraj- then metre gauge- in 1965 to attend my mother's brother's wedding. My father, my brother and I were at the tailor previous night after 8 PM- then very late hour- waiting for our clothes to delivered. I still remember my exasperation!]
One oft-heard female Marathi expression then was "शिंप्याने ब्लाऊज बिघडवला!" (tailor spoiled the blouse!) I don't think it has changed much.
Artist: Victoria Roberts, The New Yorker, 17 September 2001
Once upon a time I couldn't live without four pockets to my attire.
Once, in academic year 1973-74, I stuffed my khaki half-pants pockets with the school tiffin during the break (मधली सुट्टी) of thirty minutes so that I could go play Kabaddi (कबड्डी). I think some of my friends were mildly disgusted once they realised that I had put thick Maharashtrian pancakes (घावन) in my pocket! Even today, when I share that story with my son and wife, they shriek at the thought! And I still don't regret what I did.
Therefore, I could never understand why women have no pockets. How can they afford not to?
Artist : Garrett Price, The New Yorker, 22 Nov 1947