The other day I picked up an old issue of Toronto Life, our magazine of news on the arts, entertainment and fine dining in the city. This word popped off the page: “sari-tease”. Who knew?
Canadian women of Indian descent, apparently, have just the right set of skills, physical attributes and moral standards to satisfy the cravings of men. Toronto, according to the buzz on the Internet, is the destination if you want to pay good money to watch a woman take that sari off to the tune of Choli ke Peeche.
The investigative journalist researching the story had ventured into the wilds of Mississauga, Brampton and Scarborough, where most of the South Asians in the Greater Toronto Area live, in pursuit of the elusive striptease with sari, so enticing was the image to him.
I’m not convinced. I can see inherent practical problems with the whole sari-stripping concept. First, everyone knows that the main advantage a sari has over a T-shirt and a pair of jeans is that you never need to ask “Does my bum look big in this sari?” It can hide a multitude of figure flaws. The woman, unclad, might look a lot less alluring than when she was draped in the whole nine yards.
Second, most patrons will not be prepared for the fact that the woman minus the sari is still adequately, even modestly attired, by Toronto strip club standards. Just like Dushasana, when he couldn’t get to the naked Draupadi, they may become frustrated and angry on discovering how many layers are left.
Thirdly, the sari petticoat could bring erotic proceedings to a grinding halt (pun intended). It doesn’t meet the standard for sexy undergarments set by corsets, garter belts and push up bras. Nor does the choli, which straddles the line between under wear and outerwear. Parts of it are meant to be seen but other parts don’t bear scrutiny: rarely is it tailored in such a way that the pointy parts of the blouse match up with the pointy parts of the lady wearing it.
Roland Barthes’ reading of striptease, however, suggests that saris are indeed well-suited to the stripper’s task, which is not to reveal, but to hide herself behind a ritualised disrobing. Barthes says that “the whole of striptease is given in the very nature of the initial garment: if the latter is improbable...the nakedness which follows remains itself unreal, smooth and enclosed like a beautiful slippery object...”
Even with close to 7,00,000 South Asians here, the sari remains improbable enough to have that power in Toronto. But interested parties need not contact their travel agents just yet. As it turned out, the sari striptease story is an old story, and it’s all tease.
Despite taking a grueling tour of strip clubs all over the city, and conducting in-depth interviews with the artistes, the intrepid reporter found no saris among the feather boas and boa constrictors in the prop boxes of Toronto strippers. No gorgeous Kancheevaram, Chanderi, or Banarsi silks are being used or abused for their power to “go on pervading the woman with their magical virtue even once removed...”