pink and orange textile

Satin or Satan? | By Asma Hamza

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Electrifying, riveting, nail-biting.

That is how I describe the first half of the second term of every month!

Why? You ask.

The salary has been deposited. The gratitude process is complete. Necessity boxes are checked.

The saving chunk has been transacted to the committee account titled BC (imagination is wild). All that is left (peanuts but still it is!) is a surplus.

The dilemma kicks in. Spa date or coffee date? Dress or jewelry? Presents for children or another book? Everything escalated to the electrifying, riveting, and nail-biting first half of the second term of each month.

This September was no different.

After a handful of Shabnam breathing, I decided to click that link leading to scarves. Silk, velvety, delicious Satin Scarves with prints to die for!

Two days later, I sit here with three beautiful scarves adding to my gorgeous collection.

That’s where the brouhaha erupts. It is a demonic material to wrap around the head that’s already covered with dead straight, silky hair!

Breaking a sweat, I frantically struggled with the two ends, but it simply would not stay no matter what.

Ten minutes of staggering workout and the scarf kept slipping off like moolah slips off my hand.

That’s it!

Sin Piedad!

Waging war against the velvety devil, I took a determined step. One, two, three, I lost count. Maybe there were over a dozen pins tortured their way in to secure that Satan.

Had William Gilbert been in action, he would have had a heck of an experiment proving all his magnetic theories in an instant.

There, there! Perfectly tucked in. “Seamless!” I exclaimed before dashing in towards my ride.

It was a rikshaw.

A moment of pause for my choice of the ride with the Satan scarf because what it did next, combined with the sinister wind, was catastrophic.

The pins flew here and there as if they were British-Asian actors, nowhere to be found by the end.

The silk slid off the head no matter how much I implored. Knots, double wrapping, undercap, everything miserably failed to keep that gorgeous Fendi scarf on my head.

By the time the ride ended, my appearance had resembled the beggar mai who conjures for a hundred rupees daily without fail. As for the Fendi Hijab looked like a century-old piece of crumpled cloth, with over a dozen holes, clutched dearly against me using my bare hands.

There went the panache.

So, people here and there, take heed from the wise. Do not buy a gorgeous-looking, silky, velvety, Satin scarf. For trust me, it is nothing less than Satan himself. It shall entice you, marvel at you, and then embarrass you in ways innumerable.

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