Indian Summer
SUNO's fashion designer spent a day in June navigating the twisty-turny alleys of Delhi in search of the perfect pom-pom
By Max Osterweis
Photographed by Max Osterweis
We were on the hunt for pom-poms. The forecast was 120 degrees...
and smoky. We thought it was just a misuse of the word "smoky" and
thought it meant "muggy" or "foggy." But no, it was actually smoky.
The city was getting ready for the Commonwealth Games and there
was construction everywhere. The air was filled with a combination
of grey smoke from garbage being burnt, the black exhaust from traffic and the white dust from the construction cement. As a side note,
I wear the same thing every day (black 501s, a white V-neck T-shirt
and white oxfords) and it all turned grey. Every morning in Delhi we
had to decide if we were going to let our lips go dry and crack or if we
were going to put on lip balm and have caked lyme and cement in our
mouths. I opted to just look silly and keep my lips in my mouth.
But getting back to the pom-poms... We were told we could find some in the Chandni Chowk market in Old Delhi. We were staying at a hotel on the other side of town, so we took a taxi. After two hours in grueling traffic, our driver finally stopped and told us he'd have to let us out because cars weren't allowed in that part of the city. He said he'd wait for us and that we'd need to hail a bicycle rickshaw to get where we wanted to go. We got two bicycle rickshaws that took us another couple miles, and then when we were almost there, we were told we'd have to get off because the rickshaws couldn't cross the canal -- that was maybe not a canal, but just some deep open sewage.
They dropped us off on the side of the road in front of the sprawling market, but we had no idea where within the market we needed to go. We must have looked lost, because a middle-aged gentleman came up to us and offered to be our guide. We told him we were looking for pom-poms -- "you know, ornamental fluffy things that might go on a scarf or a piece of clothing or in a cheerleader's hands." He told us that of course he knew where to find them. Although we had zero confidence that he understood what we were looking for, we had little choice but to follow him. He led us through the bad shoes, distressed jeans, inflatable plastic toys and poorly made power tools sections of the market into increasingly narrow and crowded streets, and into the medieval alleys of Chandni Chowk. The streets were not much wider than six feet and we were literally forced to jump up onto the sides of buildings to avoid getting our toes run over by motorcycles and men pulling overloaded carts. It was as if all of Canal Street were stuck in a six-foot-wide alley that went on and on for blocks and blocks.
He ended up marching us to exactly the street we needed-- a several block stretch full of bead and trim shops. The buildings were maybe only eight feet wide but five stories high, and when we went inside, we were pressed between a little counter and the wall. There were all sorts of things on display, and if we didn't see what we were looking for, we'd ask and then we'd be sent up rickety, rusting steel staircases into other showrooms, and from there up some more stairs to another one. The shops were incredible -- we found multiple iterations of just about every bead, button or trim that has ever existed. And our guide ultimately did lead us to a shop that had exactly the pom-poms we wanted.
After we left the shops, our guide insisted that we follow him through the winding streets to a little alley filled with grand old houses painted in bright and beautiful pastel colors. At the end of the alley was a temple, made almost entirely out of marble, with delicately carved elephants out front. It was an extraordinary little temple filled with solid gold statuettes, frescos and large marble carvings -- and because of the thick marble walls, it was also significantly cooler than the hot dusty streets outside. It was an oasis of cool, calm beauty in the middle of possibly the most crowded and dirtiest part of one of the most crowded cities in the world.
After touring the temple, our guide walked us back to our rickshaws. We tipped him and thanked him, and as we were leaving, he insisted that when we were next in town, we would have to visit him at his office. As we biked away, we asked where that was, and he pointed to a tree on a median in the middle of the road. Our bikes took us back to our taxi, our taxi took us back to the hotel, and I think we all slept very well that night. --As told to Alexis Swerdloff.
Max Osterweis is the founder and creative director of SUNO, a socially responsible fashion line manufactured in Kenya. He traveled to Delhi with his co-designer Erin Beatty and associate designer Pei Cho.
But getting back to the pom-poms... We were told we could find some in the Chandni Chowk market in Old Delhi. We were staying at a hotel on the other side of town, so we took a taxi. After two hours in grueling traffic, our driver finally stopped and told us he'd have to let us out because cars weren't allowed in that part of the city. He said he'd wait for us and that we'd need to hail a bicycle rickshaw to get where we wanted to go. We got two bicycle rickshaws that took us another couple miles, and then when we were almost there, we were told we'd have to get off because the rickshaws couldn't cross the canal -- that was maybe not a canal, but just some deep open sewage.
They dropped us off on the side of the road in front of the sprawling market, but we had no idea where within the market we needed to go. We must have looked lost, because a middle-aged gentleman came up to us and offered to be our guide. We told him we were looking for pom-poms -- "you know, ornamental fluffy things that might go on a scarf or a piece of clothing or in a cheerleader's hands." He told us that of course he knew where to find them. Although we had zero confidence that he understood what we were looking for, we had little choice but to follow him. He led us through the bad shoes, distressed jeans, inflatable plastic toys and poorly made power tools sections of the market into increasingly narrow and crowded streets, and into the medieval alleys of Chandni Chowk. The streets were not much wider than six feet and we were literally forced to jump up onto the sides of buildings to avoid getting our toes run over by motorcycles and men pulling overloaded carts. It was as if all of Canal Street were stuck in a six-foot-wide alley that went on and on for blocks and blocks.
He ended up marching us to exactly the street we needed-- a several block stretch full of bead and trim shops. The buildings were maybe only eight feet wide but five stories high, and when we went inside, we were pressed between a little counter and the wall. There were all sorts of things on display, and if we didn't see what we were looking for, we'd ask and then we'd be sent up rickety, rusting steel staircases into other showrooms, and from there up some more stairs to another one. The shops were incredible -- we found multiple iterations of just about every bead, button or trim that has ever existed. And our guide ultimately did lead us to a shop that had exactly the pom-poms we wanted.
After we left the shops, our guide insisted that we follow him through the winding streets to a little alley filled with grand old houses painted in bright and beautiful pastel colors. At the end of the alley was a temple, made almost entirely out of marble, with delicately carved elephants out front. It was an extraordinary little temple filled with solid gold statuettes, frescos and large marble carvings -- and because of the thick marble walls, it was also significantly cooler than the hot dusty streets outside. It was an oasis of cool, calm beauty in the middle of possibly the most crowded and dirtiest part of one of the most crowded cities in the world.
After touring the temple, our guide walked us back to our rickshaws. We tipped him and thanked him, and as we were leaving, he insisted that when we were next in town, we would have to visit him at his office. As we biked away, we asked where that was, and he pointed to a tree on a median in the middle of the road. Our bikes took us back to our taxi, our taxi took us back to the hotel, and I think we all slept very well that night. --As told to Alexis Swerdloff.
Max Osterweis is the founder and creative director of SUNO, a socially responsible fashion line manufactured in Kenya. He traveled to Delhi with his co-designer Erin Beatty and associate designer Pei Cho.
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