Fashion in Madagascar

Before I start, I just want to say that five minutes ago some little kids looked at a magazine with me. One girl kept saying, "Look! It's Morondava!" and another girl would respond, "No, stupid! That's in another country!" So these kids struggle to remember my name (usually not a problem because it's the same as a fishing village in Morondava--Betania--clearly these kids aren't into fishing--or just don't know their geography). And one of them tried really hard to remember and came up with, "Bastawe!" (pronounced bah-stah-way). Yes, yes. Amazing. I love it.

Now. Malagasy fashion.

On the plateau, I'll be honest--they dress better than I do. I mean, they seriously look more vazaha than me in Tana. Then again, "nice" here usually means its Chinese and, well, not the best quality. Pretty and shiney, but broken oh so easily. Cheap. I mean cheap in quality--but expensive in price. Go figure. You get the point.

Here on the coast, however, we play a different game. Life is easier. Particularly in my region, Menabe--which means . . . "very red" or "big red" or maybe even "extreme red," if you will--ha. But so it's too too hot for those fancy Chinese clothes in my part of town. It's much more practical to wrap a lamba around you.

Note: Lamba = the short name (do you really want the long one?) for about a meter of fabric that is super handy and has multiple uses. They usually have a random picture on them with a random saying in Malagasy.

Lambas are worn at ceremonies. They are worn by everyone at home. And by everyone, I mostly mean women. Others wear them all the time (if you have a job that is more work and less office--so farmers and market merchants versus teachers and postal workers). You can wear them as a dress or a skirt. Our cook in Kirindy Mitea enjoying rocking (no joke) a sports coat with a lamba like a shirt. Seriously. It was amazing. VERY stylish.

You use lambas to attach babies to your back. Lambas are handy for women when you are on a taxibrousse and need to pee. Other uses: Rag. Cushion on head to help you carry things up top. Blanket. Towel. Strainer (particularly when extracting coconut milk). Wall decoration. Cushion cover. Pillow case. Table cloth. Cover to protect from dust. Emergency swimming suit. Curtain. Beach towel. Means to connect two motorcycles when one is broken and needs to be pulled behind the other. You think I'm kidding on that last one? I've seen it. Point is, lambas are amazing and you can use them for any and everything.

Final lamba note: Once, I arrived in Tana and was cold (naturally), so I pulled out a lamba and wrapped up in it to keep warm. A Gasy guy from Tana laughed at me (as he pulled out his fleece) and called me a hick. Apparently I'm kind of country bumpkin on this island. I love the coast.

Back to regular fashion.

The best part of fashion here is that anything (ANYTHING) goes. The bad news being, it may permanently destroy whatever fashion sense I had. . . . Men can wear frilly hats. Women can wear matching skorts and shirts made of out bright plaid. A hat seller walks around wearing a stack of 50 hats on his head. I can walk around barefoot and it's totally fine. Just avoid noon or the sand will burn your feet of, that's all I have to say.

The clothes I brought have pretty much fallen apart or gotten so stretched out that if I want to wear them, I either need to gain 5 million pounds (approximately) or get pregnant. Like 9 months pregnant overnight.

I tried using a seamstress, but I've discovered that my favorite source of clothing is the frippe (pronounced frihp). It's kind of like the Salvation Army. America and Europe sends their old, unwanted clothes our direction. Sellers throw it into piles and you dig around for treasures. Sometimes they'll even put things on hangers. So for a buck or two I can buy and wear the clothes that you got rid of! And I DO! Most of my current wardrobe consists of your rejects!

The clothes go two ways.

1. It's something legit. A tank top from Express, for example. I got a new supply of tank tops in Tamatave and I'm afraid to say they're nicer than the ones I brought with me in the first place. They fall under this category.

2. It is something RIDICULOUS. This is my favorite. They are ridiculous but they WORK. At least in Madagascar, they do. As long as it fits, right? One of my favorites is a white dress with thing horizontal stripes--and (get this) pictures of a woman from the 20s-esque on a bicycle circling the bottom. Another favorite is bright blue and green and just might be leftover from the 70s. And let's not forget the pink and white dress with pictures of women in bikinis saying, "Hello!!! Isn't it wonderful!!" and "I like it so much!!! give it to me and don't worry . . ." Right. Who does that? Seriously--who thought this up?

I have to work a bit from time to time--sewing it tighter so it's smaller, cutting the back open so it's bigger. Remove that bow, cut this dress a little shorter. It's all part of the game.

Frankly, it's the best thing ever. Digging through the piles of clothes is like searching for a costume in your grandparents' attic. And then it's arts and crafts time when you make those tiny adjustments. All for the price of a beer!

That being said . . . . Don't be surprised if I come home wearing your clothes.

Love,
Bastawe