To whoever-makes-clothes,
Sperm and ovum cells should have artificial intelligence and make the decision, in what era they want to fuse together to make life. But, unfortunately, sir, if ever you have attended school and know science, you’d know, things don’t work that way and hence I couldn’t help but to acknowledge life and take birth in the Ekta-Kapoorean-era. That, doesn’t mean, I’d dress up like Dolly Bindra, to say the least. Were you intoxicated while designing that shit and had those nerves to sell it for many many thousands? Are you seriously kidding me? You’d have guessed by now, I have a wedding to attend in my family and finding a salwaar kameez without the stones, without the blinding shimmer, sans the hideous velvet is as improbable as listening to Rakhi sawant talk sense, or watching Uday Chopra act well or existing in the era where Chandrachoor Singh gives hits or Sachin scoring a 100 or Esha koppikar winning the best actress’ award or Mayavati becoming rational or Hazare shutting up or Manmohan Singh making a contribution in the parliament. Got the point? Good. Who do you think I am ? Vidya Balan? My eyes bled after I checked over 20 shops in over 3 markets in Delhi, only to find myself in a very miserable state with suicidal tendencies. What went into your head when you fashioned this ugliest piece of covering, with thousand stones on a velvet background with random colors thrown mindlessly everywhere. I couldn’t even laugh. It’s not even funny anymore. If you ask me, I’d wear a plain white linen shirt with blue denims but you know how civilisation fucked mankind? And further how you fucked the entire fashion industry? Disappointed. Very. Disappointed. Go go go, make shit for daily soap actresses.Please find enclosed, copy of my hospital bills. Kindly do the needful.Thanks.
Sincerely,
A fucked consumer
