My nephew returned home with an attractive cap and threw it on me.
“This is a famous brand and costs $40. Chuck your loose shirts, go for slim fits and wake up to fashion conscience.”
His other words did not enter my ears. $40 for a cap? OMG, I would have bargained a $5 cap for $2. The GenNext is so different.
When in Mumbai, I used to wear different types of caps. I remember how my colleague D’Cruz said: “My hubby saw you at the rail station at 1am (after night duty) and recognized you by your cap. You are not a mad chap, but a mad cap.” She laughed at her own stupid joke.
One editor I met kept asking me where I had bought my cap. I still don’t know whether he liked it or was making fun of me. Nonetheless, he gave me an assignment and I got the money. Lucky cap.
But can’t say caps always brought me luck. A great friend who happened to be a girl gifted me a cap some time ago with the words “Look’g gr8.” Thrilled, I thought we will be inseparable friends. After the gift, this friend drifted away, not to be seen for months. Unlucky cap.
When I entered office with the Billabong cap gifted by my nephew, the first friend who greeted me said, “Super. But you should not wear it straight. Reverse it.” He reversed it on his own. After a while, another guy turned the cap on the sides and said, “This is the latest fashion.”
Fed up, I kept the cap on my hand.
“Why don’t you wear it?” asked a female colleague.
“Latest fashion. Hold the cap in your hand and let the suspense hang,” I winked as she blinked.