When in doubt, pick the Little Black Dress – the universal fashion mantra ever since the great Coco unveiled this wonder apparel. Friend of womankind. Forgiving yet flattering. Effortless yet impactful. Multi-occasion appropriate. Functional to fetishist. ‘Is it a bird, is it a plane, is it a dress? No, it’s SuperDress!’ One could go on, sing paeans of praise, write a song or a novel about this amazing and iconic wardrobe staple. And now, its adaptations in most world cultures have created a unifying religion of sorts. Whether you wear it with a churidar in India, with the hijab elsewhere, fashion it out of silk brocade in China or style its kimono version with an obi belt in Japan, this multiethnic global fashion messiah has spread her preachings with love, tolerance and a welcoming appeal.

But has this ‘one-stop solution’ quality converted the LBD into the LSD (Little Safe Dress)? A refuge from scrutiny? A sure rung to the best dressed list? The epitome of eternal chic à la Audrey Hepburn, who we all aspire to be, creating clones of each other? Well, no. For those who cannot go beyond the ‘classically beautiful’ visuals of Chanel, Givenchy, Hervé Léger and Roland Mouret, there lies the vast, vast world of the LAD (Little Adventurous Dress). Black is enigmatic, certainly not boring and designers across the world (including Bharat mahaan) go past safe and stretch their imagination. ‘Have at least one LBD in the wardrobe’ was the intelligent fashionista’s safety net; now even a hundred would not suffice, or cover the mind-boggling variety offered in monochrome!

I am corporate chic on Monday, spunky-sporty on Tuesday, feisty feminist on Wednesday, minimalist Mod on Thursday, nubile Lolita on Friday. The weekend is left to blindfolded picks between ethno-prom, deconstructed glamour, sex kitten or vintage Victorian. I have a black dress for every day of the year and I do not get bored. I will layer it, team it, accessorise it. I will add colour, texture, shine and depth. I do not clone, or be cloned. The only thing common is the shade of noir.

I could be 16, or 28 or 45 or 62 or even 80. I might have spent next to nothing at a thrift store, or someone’s yearly salary on a spree. But it is an investment well done. To be colourful in a solitary hue is the beautifully oxymoronic reality of the modern LBD. For the creator, as well as the wearer, the religion has evolved. We are permanent, ardent devotees. Why? Because it allows.

This is true love, an unbreakable marriage. And what the great Coco envisioned it to be – freedom.

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