Red, Bed, and the Birkin

One of my former bosses had once told me, that hitting the 40s is like hitting cruise mode. “Most things that tore you apart in your 30s, will not matter any more. You will be perfectly happy with yourself.” She was trying to talk me out of my decision to get a tattoo and my sudden love for red — pants, hand bag, and hair colour. Apparently, all these are tell-tale signs of mid life-ing. And men are no different either. A certain gent, who was going through a rough personal professional patch, got himself a red Volkswagen one day. I am told it worked somewhat in taking the edge off his legendary temper.

Another one of my former boss ladies, had told me how the size of gifts exchanged between mid-aged couples said a lot about the exact status of their relationship. The heftier the tag, the slimmer the chances of them enjoying a healthy love life. Which could explain why she eventually stopped talking about the Birkins that her man friend lavished on her.

What are the signals that we give, unwittingly, about our personal, public, and sex lives? If I love red, does it mean I am clutching on to the mirage of my youth? Is it alright to get a tattoo when you are young, but not cool after you are married? Why is it that we find it difficult to trust a grown up man driving a red fast car? And when a mature woman wears an outfit that shows off her cleavage, does it mean she is looking for action outside her marriage? 

Sometimes, it is a red herring, intended to confound those who watch, judge, draw conclusions. But there may be a grain of truth in there somewhere. I never got the tattoo or the piercing. I prefer to wear whites and pastels these days. My husband does not drive a red car and we are rarely colour co-ordinated. You are welcome to draw conclusions about my life — predictable, safe, undramatic, and on cruise mode.

Scribbler, scribe, traveller Chandrima Pal takes you through the sexual landscape of today

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