Most of my friends can attest to my habitual tardiness, for which I conveniently lay blame on my South Asian roots. Growing up, time didn't really dictate the daily routines of our household. Dinnertime was whenever my father happened to get home from work, which always varied, and my mother was always magically prepared for his arrival with food on the table at a moment's notice. Any attempt my parents made at enforcing an official bedtime was never taken seriously by either party, which meant we stayed up late (to this day, I am convinced that my mother never really sleeps at all, preferring instead to continuously recharge herself with several cups of chai). As is the norm among Pakistanis, we showed up to formal functions well beyond what is considered fashionably late in most circles. When my cousin Mona got married last summer, her planner marveled that the wedding, which started nearly three hours late, was remarkably on schedule in comparison to other South Asian weddings she'd done.
Leaving a party seemed to take as much effort as it did to arrive. The parents would take a good hour or so in making their rounds to bid adieu to anyone with whom they'd had even the slightest interaction (standing next to one another in line at the food buffet seemed to suffice), and for some inexplicable reason, introductions were made at the end of the evening to other friends/relatives/connections, so that on the drive home, the mothers could give detailed accounts of who exactly was there (down to who their relations were, what they were wearing, and their physical dimensions). Ours is an extremely social, highly interactive culture and everyone, both young and old, seems to just be caught up in whatever is happening in the moment, blissfully unaware that the hour grows late until a toddler starts to nod off or an elderly person becomes unbearably cantankerous.
As an adult, I don't have clocks in my home, nor do I wear a watch. Other than my morning alarm, I'm generally unconcerned with knowing what time it is, and if absolutely necessary, would sooner reach for my cell phone than turn to the clock on the wall of whatever room I'm in. That's why I find it sort of amusing that my home decor obsession as of late has been wall clocks. Don't get too hopeful, friends. I don't intend to start telling the time with them -- I'm purely interested in them for decorative purposes.
Schoolhouse Clock, $128 @ Anthropologie.