Month: October 2015

Living with symbols: Frida’s things against all things Fridamania

These days Frida Kahlo’s face is on many a “things.” Her stern mien is plastered on store windows, embroidered into colorful pillows, stamped on fridge magnets. Mexico City is the epicenter of “Fridamania” that invaded museum gift shops since the artist’s revival in the 80s. Resolved to squeeze the artist’s legacy to the last peso, Mexico’s tourist industry parades her on books, mugs, sneakers, and baby bottles. From luxury stores to street markets, one can buy Frida earrings to match Frida shirts and take pictures next to an amateur copy of a Frida self-portrait. In the city reputed to house more museums than any city in the world La Casa Azul (the Blue House), boasts the longest lines. The museum is the house where she was born and where she lived with her husband Diego Rivera until her death in 1954. Even though Kahlo’s paintings were well received during her lifetime, the most she charged for a painting was $4,000 pesos (about $1,000 USD) in 1947 for The Two Fridas, one of her masterpieces. Soon after …

Who is this creature called the “backpacker”?

Yesterday a Frenchman accused me of being a fake backpacker at a Cuban bar in Lisbon. His allegation came after I revealed that I was staying at an AirBnB rather than a hostel. We had a lot to chat about–he had recently returned back to his nine to five IT job in Paris after a seven-month “backpacking” trip in Australia and Asia. “I bet you don’t even have a backpack,” he said with a smirk. “I’m not a backpacker!” I said in protest. “And I certainly don’t carry a backpack on my sensitive shoulders.” Our discussion made me realize once again why I decided not to stay in hostels and why I defied the categorical “backpacker” label. Though I indeed was once a “fake backpacker” and it was while I slept in hostels in Colombia. Thankfully my fraudulence only lasted five weeks. Before arriving in Colombia I read various blogs on traveling alone—all posts instructed staying in dorms for a fulfilling social life on the move. So who was I, a novice solo-traveler, to stray from the path? While staying …

A Fashion Megaflop (me) with Professional Women’s Network of Istanbul

Many professional women are unaware of the consequences of the Beauty Myth. As a guest at one of the monthly meetings of the Professional Women’s Network of Istanbul, I learned about the issues faced by women in Turkey, whether they are professionals or home-makers.  Women in Istanbul often intimidate me. I watch them hold their coffee with nails always manicured to perfection, their slick, ironed sleeve revealing a bracelet or a watch that matches the tiny handle of a handbag that always looks brand new. My fingers boast nails with varied lengths and my scruffy bag decorated with ink stains looks like that of a bazaar vendor. When Istanbul’s professional urban women walk about town on a windy day their blow-dried hair seem to remain immune to frizz when mine scrambles into an unruly mess. Their knowledge of the latest fashion trends is reflected in flawless combination of color and style. Clothing stores, instead of hiring models could just as well walk into any coffee shop in Nişantaşı—a trendy neighborhood in Istanbul—and just photograph the women going about …