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The curse called V-Day
The V-Day has as yet to become a successful money-churner for the High Street, writes Vijay Dutt.
Valentine's Day is round the corner. Lovers have very little time deciding
presents for their object of ardour. What to buy apart from roses and box of chocolates is a dilemma most men struggle with. Some brave ones, and I should add clever ones with mischievous intent, hunt for lingerie. It is another matter that these brave loving souls generally end up buying the wrong size that makes V-Day a very cold and muted day for them.
One can see these days at high street stores men circling around the shelves and hangers dangling lingerie of various shapes and colour. Adults all, they some how seem very furtive, as if they are committing some kind of sin. One does not look at the other and all of them seem to be in great hurry. Once they select, the lingerie is tucked discreetly and only when at the till, they un-tuck it. You can see they keep their eyes lowered while the girl at the tiller packs the item and swipes their credit card. They leave quickly as if they were carrying some pilfered material.
Such furtiveness is the reason for even husbands buying lingerie, which instead of leading to cosy evening triggers a cold war on V-Day. A lady complained, thankfully with a lot of giggling, that her husband brought home a red silk nightie that could fit her aged and much bloated mother-in-law. His explanation that he thought roomy was preferable to the clingy only worsened the situation. She nearly told him it was roomy outside and he could take a walk.
But, she stopped making the V-Day a D-Day, that is the divorce day. She understands that men are troubled by underwear. They may be, she says, up to ogling and fondling but they are hopeless in the shopping department.
No wonder at present, when V-Day is creeping in fast, lingerie stores are crowded with lost men, men in suits, fingering silk panties, men in jeans seemingly flirting with push-up bras, they all mentally praying that no one will think they are a pervert or worse a transvestite. The fact is that marketing wizards have failed to commercialise and market V-Day (pun is intended) as well as Christmas or New Year's Day.
The commercialisation of Christmas as a period for personal shopping and buying gifts for friends and relatives has turned it, a religious occasion, into billions of pounds industry. The V-Day has as yet to become as successful money-churner for the High Street. In fact, I feel that in recent years it has lost much of its romantic aura.
Here I find it a very subdued affair compared to what I used to see in Delhi. The love bug affected even the old couples. I do not want to sound critical. It is nice to be in love at any age. It gives one the purpose to live on. But here I find that for V-Day most shops keep wrapped up chocolate boxes or heart shaped pralines while the dailies print rates for messages to loved ones and then just sit back. When the day has passed, they unwrap the rose coloured paper and ribbons and put the boxes back on the regular shelves. It's like a routine that comes once a year.
