Ok I Tripped I Fell I Lost It ..I Mean The Tshirt, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.
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My dear friend Ali Reza Shirazi has a tshirt store at Bandra Hill Road called Final Destination , the craziest collection of weird Tshirts that I come for the heck of it and shoot.. it amuses him and the clients in his shop..
For me his shop is letting off steam from the pressure of work and life...
His shop is an extension of my own mind shop though... cramped with words upon words , trying to get the fuck out of my head... some make it some dont..
Most of my fucked words love to get attached to my hijra poems and I dont blame them my hijras would get you a rise in the worst recession of your life time..
I dont wear printed tshirts or printed stuff only tiger leper prints...and plain black body fits.. I dont wear shirts at all.. nor trousers or jeans I would have to be drugged to be made to wear it..
And I wear slippers out of necessity I hate footwear I dont have shoes ..not a single pair..
I wear bandit trousers very baggy and loose and dhotis.. my color is black..
I used to wear saffron but it does not turn me on anymore..
I can come up with the craziest sense of fashion and style with my old clothes but I have lost that part of sartorial libido... I think simplicity is the best form of presentation..
My jewelry adds to what I lack in dress sense.. but I sold of some exotic pieces every time went broke.. and so I make do with what I have.
I used to wear hats Sufi caps but I gave it up for the turban.. the turban keeps the head cool and hides the gray matter too..
