Selective Amnesia

India’s first Chennaiosexual

YT declares, beginning today, the Metrosexual fad is old horse. From today, we will celebrate Chennaiosexual. (Motto: No! Chennai DOES NOT HAVE SEX. SEX IS BAD. WE JUST WATCH MIDNIGHT MASALA ON SUNTV). The Chennaiosexual combines impeccable business wear with rather deplorable choice of shirts and footwear. Chennaiosexualism is all about combinations. Bad combinations, that is. And, to launch this face, er, phase of fashion, let YT present to you Exhibit 1. Mr. NorthIndian in Chennai.

This person is either of the Rajasthani or Gujarati stock, but has a bit of the Telegu blood in him. He was spotted today, the 16th of October, 2006, at the Radhakrishnan Salai outlet of Saravana Bhavan. In the company of three friends, in rather boring T-shirts and jeans. Old fashioned plebians, no doubt.

Our Man had on him a crisply cut, well tailored blazer in a shade of grey that is right at home in the boardroom. Trousers of the same colour and finish. And for the perfect contrast – shockingly pink shirt. Said pink shirt had, please sit down and drink a glass of water for you will not believe me but it is true and I swear all my reputation on it again please sit down and prepare yourself for it, white floral patterns.

That’s right. Crisp, grey suit. With pink, floral shirt. But, ironically, to crown the whole thing – shoes.
Said Chennaiosexual chose to adorn his feet with sandal coloured shoes with silver trimmings.

Fortunately, YT didn’t have a camera on his person. And thus, the world has been denied, thankfully, of pictorial evidence of the birth of a new era in fashion. To compensate, YT has decided to write boringly long sentences with one two many (get it?) puns, and the word ‘of’. YT, also fortunately, didn’t have the world famous Wildlife photographer S.U Saravanakumar, who is currenly in Bristol, on call. YT, no matter how hard he tries, has to concede that he can never write as well as these people, and hence S.U Saravanakumar is a luxury he will be denied.

YT feels that this post has been dragged far beyond its natural elasticity will allow. And no matter how much he tries to induce humour into a rather boring post, he knows that it is futile. And will at best invite a puke from the Pukemaster. (Motto: I’m the pastmaster on pukes. I am the best, because nobody else has claimed that title)

Oh, hell.