Sunday, 24 October 2010

Moroccan style and fashion (and my story of "Maktub")

  The stare penetrated me. Her Blue Eyes carried an intimacy. Profoundly familiar to me.
  A dark lock dropped over her left eye gently landing on the curve of her nose.
  I remembered her Pear Green Hijab sheltered a black paradise. Unseen, forbidden to my sex. The Yellow Silk-Lined Wrap isolated her private figure. Tiny, little feet peeked from underneath her dress.  
  I felt the humidity of a long day and judged from her onion like layers - she must feel worse.  
  Clenched in her right hand I could see a familiar beige chiffon veil. A sudden anticipation channelled through me as her motionless body erupted a lava of forgotten memories.
  My vision suffered as I felt my eyes flood. I could not move to wipe off the salty water that was now pouring out of my eyes. I was paralysed. Paralysed by Her.
  She looked through me, through all those lost years. Nothing had changed. We were still those teenagers hiding in the Moroccan ruins, so young and so passionate about each other. We were still bound like we are one. And yet nothing was the same. Our fates didn’t correlate, like someone was chanting on us to forever seek that destiny.  
  None of us spoke, and still, we communicated, as if we were Siamese twins, physically separated, but with joined identities. In that moment we shared every feeling, every emotion and every thought that we saved over twenty years. I could predict her each move, and yet, her actions seemed so very alien to me. I was discovering something new each moment we spent together.
  The grip softened, and the veil glided through her delicate fingers, dancing in mid air as it landed on the floor. I felt my stomach tingle as I knew she had begun. Her wrists levitated to undo a perfect bow on her black cloak. She moved her wrists higher and slowly slid the hood off her alluring hair. The slow pace continued as she released the heavy cloak off her tanned shoulders revealing the detailed costume. Gold coins filled the top of her Bronze Daraji Skirt and bottom of her foundation garment, multi coloured silk chiffon fabrics draped from all sides. The intricate fabric Illuminated on a ray of sunshine that also kissed her flawless face.
  She raised her arms and brought slow movements into her wrists and fingers while steadily rocking her hips from side to side. She begun to turn very slowly and with each turn she removed one of the chiffon fabrics revealing glimpse of bare skin.
Last time I saw her belly dance for me I promised that I’d always remember her like this. Like a dancing mirage.
  She continued dancing on a rainbow of translucent fabric that now covered any glimpse of red sand bellow her feet. Her body glided smoothly like a feather in the breeze. The Gold Coins made contact with one another every time she made an abrupt dance movement creating a metal clinking sound that I so deeply associated with her. Her long dark wavy hair was gathered with a Pearl Necklace that was embedded in the thick plait. Her thin arms were covered with thick Gold Bracelets that reflected in orange sunbeams, emphasising the Hot Atmosphere.
  Her dancing serenely reduced to a halt simultaneously with my advance towards her. Our concurrent steps were long and unhurried as though we had been practicing this routine for years. No, we were not practicing, but we were prepared, we had a lot of time to prepare.
  As more distance shrank between us, the physical connection became more anticipated. We stopped, what seemed the most momentary journey, just millimetres apart. I felt her breath on my lips. I could see her eyes like two moons in the night, as she took a long deep look at me searching for an answer. They were full of shine.
  ‘After so many years we are here again,’ Jadie whispered.
  ‘Like there weren’t all those years,’ I muttered, ‘here we are like we were.’
  ‘Lucas!’ her voice was full of admiration and passion.
  ‘I feel like that teenager again, secretly in love with you!’
  ‘We shouldn’t have come here; it’s an insane move,’ her expressions were full of worry. We were both aware of the consequences that would follow if we were found, yet we knew the moment we let go of our each other’s hands; we will no longer care for our lives. We were simply too exhausted to go against fate any longer. We had waited too long.
  ‘Jadie, I’ve tried to forget you, but I can’t.’
  ‘Did you often think of me?’
  ‘No!’ I said with a polite laughter as she joined in, ‘I tried as hard as I could not to, but everything reminded me of you, music, shawls floating in the wind. Everything reminded me of you.’
  A flash of dulcet memory raced to remind of the first time I saw her, how I wanted to grab her, touch her, kiss her, love her.
  ‘I thought of you every day,’ she said, ‘I asked myself how you lived, whether you were happy or not, I wished you happiness and at the same time agonized with jealousy that you could be happy without me,’ Jadie’s velvet words wrapped me in a gentle melody, which she so easily produced with each word.  
  I was jealous too. Jealous of her family that got to see and touch her every day, jealous of her daughter for not being ours, of her husband who got to feel the heat of her body and smell her sweet scent every night. Of all that I was forbidden.
  ‘We spoke here for the first time;’ I managed to get out as tears raced down my face, ‘do you remember?’
  ‘I came here often and dreamed of you.’
  ‘Some say our words forever stay in space like radio waves, listen ...’ we closed our eyes remembering. I could hear those assurances and promises that we exchanged, ‘nothing happens without a reason, us meeting was written long before our birth,’ Jadie said to me once; ‘I’ll never deny you... I’ll do anything... I love you!’ I pledged to her. I could hear her so clear as if we travelled back in time, ‘we are meant to be together ... nothing can separate us.’
  ‘Do you still believe that?’ I asked, ‘That no one and nothing in the world is powerful enough to separate us...I do.’
  ‘Oh! Lucas!’ Her smile widened uncovering a set of perfect teeth.
  My fingers steeled across her skin, as they began to toy with the veil obscuring the passion beneath,‘I’ll promise you one thing,’ I reached to brush off a tear on her pink cheek, ‘this time I won’t leave without you,’ and I meant every word I said.

  Occasionally time likes to repeat old stories and sometimes tells completely new ones. If it was in their fates to forever search a link for their happiness, then they would continue the endless search for their Maktub, as it is for that reason Allah created us. So that we are happy.
  "Destiny is what you have always wanted to accomplish. Everyone, when they are young, knows what their destiny is. At that point in their lives, everything is clear and everything is possible. They are not afraid to dream, and to yearn for everything they would like to see happen to them in their lives. But, as time passes, a mysterious force begins to convince them that it will be impossible for them to realize their destiny.” Paulo Coelho

I wrote this piece a while ago. It was inspired by a Brazilian TV series “O Clone” that has remained my favourite love story of all time.
I hope after reading this you will be just as inspired as I was about the fashion aspect. It gave me so many ideas, that I then tried to incorporate into my own style. The fabrics, the jewellery, the music and the Moroccan culture, that is so unique and beautiful, each complement each other in a way that rarely ever proves successful, bringing out a romantic and sensual quality.
I was also taken by how strong love can get and it’s amazing how it’s sometimes the only thing that matters.
This might give you an idea of what I was trying to convey in my story