My favourite clothing store

How an unassuming, little shop in Colombo beats a fancy department store any day

Picture my favourite children’s clothes store in Colombo: It’s been around since I was in my teens, the owners slowly building their house around it, the success of the store a direct relationship to the number of floors the house was going up by or how freshly painted it was. Each visit over the years meant a guaranteed hi, hello, how have you been? with the owner, a gentle, bespectacled Tamil gentleman, or his petite, soft-spoken wife, and, more recently, their now-grown-up son, who will likely inherit the business someday. Even the staff has stayed mostly the same— a group of young women now approaching middle age, who seem nonplussed about folding up the same clothes a million times a day (the small space means the clothes are mostly in folded-up piles on the shelves instead of hung in rows like in the massive department stores of Doha). I don’t know any of their names, but we recognise each other instantly. The exchange and refund policy consists of taking back the unwanted items with the labels on, and it doesn’t matter if I’ve lost the receipt or if the number of days has exceeded the customary period, because they know us. And there are never any sales or discounts, because everyone knows and appreciates that their prices are reasonable and the quality is good. Even the old uncle working the parking lot is endearing. He doesn’t talk, but runs to help me park, his non-verbal gestures and ready smile standing out in a city full of noise.

My most recent visit was especially memorable. It is Avurudu season in Sri Lanka, April 14th being the Sinhala & Tamil New Year, and Vaishi —that’s the name of the store which my mother told me is an amalgamation of the owners’ children’s names, which is definitely more assumption than fact, but considering the culture, is a fair assumption to make— is stocked up with traditional outfits for children. I have already picked red and white sets for my kids, red being the auspicious colour for the new year, and an employee is helping another mom pick an outfit for her child who wasn’t present. I overhear them speaking, trying to figure out what will be a good fit, when the lady points to another little girl in the store and says, “She is around that size”. The employee then goes to find the little girl who has by now disappeared among the racks, and explains to her parents that the other parent is trying to find the right size. Then all four of them look for the little girl, and a few minutes later, mission accomplished. Somehow, the entire exchange just warmed my heart. It’s hard to explain how I feel these sorts of interactions only happen here, so easily and without any hesitation.

In a wildly changing country and world, this small shop has been a constant, a safe space. I know exactly what to expect each time I walk into it, who I’ll see, what I’ll find, and how I’ll be treated. Would the owners find it amusing to know that a random child who would frequent it with her mother is now an adult getting choked up writing about it? I hope they’d be more than that. I hope they’d be proud.