Observations on covering up

The fashion industry is no longer concerned with being elegant. It just wants to sell everyone the same outfit. It may be my elevated taste in fashion or just the likes of Paris Hilton wearing head-to-toe logos but looking none the less like a joke. After all, anyone can don a theatrical Dior jacket. Just as money doesn't buy happiness, it doesn't secure elegance, either.

This is why I am contemplating wearing the abaya full-time in the west. When in my husband's country of Qatar, I indulge in wearing my beautiful abayas. The long black gowns drape my body as elegantly as anything worn by a 1940s Hollywood starlet. An abaya comes complete with a train that glides as I move across the desert terrain. The sleeves of my gorgeous silk creations are always lightly embellished with crystal designs and lace to add some extra glamour. My headscarves are usually wrapped lightly around my head with extra corners revealing the co-ordinating designs of my dress. I am mysterious, modest and chic, all within the margins of being religiously conscious.

Looking good never felt so right. In Qatar, even when I'm wearing a grubby old pair of jeans, I can simply slip on my abaya to do my errands. Instantly, this desperate housewife feels confident and statuesque. As I stroll through the aisles of the Mega Mart contemplating different cheeses, my abaya drapes me with every move, ensuring my modesty while enforcing my elegance. My steps are hidden and I look as though I am gliding across the marble floors.

This is a far cry from negotiating the local Tesco. Here, I must continuously push back my messy hair, hold my top as I reach for stacked loo roles, and reveal my underwear to ogling men as I bend down for my muesli, inevitably placed on the lowest shelves.

A girl in an abaya doesn't have to be a slave to fashion to look chic. I want to feel glamorous every minute of the day. A big old T-shirt makes me feel more frumpy than comfy. My inner peace is achieved by feeling good while being modest - showing some beauty yet not too much booty. Wearing my abaya helps me in my quest for effortless elegance. How else can a woman look and feel good without attracting annoying attention from gross men? (As if I would waste my time on such losers, anyway.)

But, in any case, I have become tired. Tired of squeezing into "skinny" jeans, tired of holding in my stomach and tired of unwanted advances.

I am ready to look and feel like a statuesque woman of class, not trash. I am ready to drape my frame with the luminous black cloth that perfectly outlines my silhouette. I am ready to express my glamorous side through the beautiful embroidery that delicately frames my face.

The abaya is my answer to the dilemmas of modern fashion. Glamour is achieved, modesty is secured, and self-esteem is upheld. And did I mention how slimming the colour black is?

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