in which i don't die à la "hostel" and acquire two tailored dresses

I moved out of my homestay in Lajpat Nagar on Monday, and I was supposed to live in a hostel in Paharganj. But that didn't work out for a multitude of reasons. First, my hostel was down an alleyway. Second, Sarah got stopped while walking around aforementioned alleyway by a French reporter who wanted to know if she felt safe in Delhi. She said she did, and she asked why he wanted to know. Apparently, a female French tourist was found dead in a hostel or a hotel in the neighborhood only a week before. I didn't want to pull a Natalee Holloway or get trapped in Hostel, so I booked it out of there and scrambled to find a new place to crash.

Thanks to a friend of a friend, I found this great PG in Malviya Nagar. PG stands for "Paying Guest," and it usually works as a room in a family's house. But I've got a good situation here that offers a bit more privacy than my last homestay, lovely though it was. The owners live on the third floor, and I'm on the second floor. There are two bedrooms with three beds in each, a kitchen and two bathrooms. There are only two Indian girls who are alo living here, but they're in the other bedroom. This means I've basically got this big room all to myself, which actually rules. The owners lock the front gate at 9PM, but they gave me a key so I don't have to worry about booking it back by 9PM on the dot. This new living situation - including the fact that I can eat all of the museli and honey and yogurt and pomegranate and chikoo and mango and banana that I want when I want to eat it - is pretty great. Plus, I live around the corner from a bagel shop and a frozen yogurt place.

Having a room to myself also means that I can take embarrassing pictures of myself on my laptop to show you all the dresses that I got tailored! (Remember that post?) Well after weeks of waiting and days of delay,  the dresses are in my possession. They fit me like a glove. Actually, they fit almost too well; getting them on an off is sort of a challenge. My waist is 6-8 inches smaller than my bust and my hips (and I know this now because I've been measured for the tailor so many times), so I have to sort of squeeze either my boobs or my hips into the dress. But once all my lady curves are in, let me tell you: I look good.

This is the fabulous 70's-style embroidered fabric that I bought...

...and this is the dress that I had made from it!

This dress makes me feel like Joan from Mad Men.

I never want to take these dresses off ever, but I have to because I can't walk around with bare legs here and because I don't really have anywhere to wear them to. Yet another reason I can't wait to get back to the States. (Fun fact: Leg waxing is incredibly inexpensive here, which is sort of ironic since it's impossible to show my freshly waxed gams off without staying culturally appropriate. But my legs feel great.) One of my flatmates just got home and I showed her my dresses. She thought they were kurtas, but she liked them a lot. Ah, well.