Ana and Her Closet: A Style Journal

BLEU?

2008-12-13T23:21:00.003+08:00

Did I promise on this space that I’d cease wearing black-and-white combo again?

Blouse, My Dress Room; Dress, My Dress Room; Beret, Deeper N' Harder; Tights, Soxworld; Shoes, Tang

I certainly did break the vows again— the spirit of colors has left my body, I suppose. My boss, a few colleagues and I were back at 95 percent to listen to a talk on new trends in advertising today. A portion of the talk was taken up by the screening of online adverts, my favourite being Blendtec’s Will It Blend series.

Regarding my getup, the suspender dress held on to my body a bit too tightly that I found it rather laborous to breathe unconsciously. The bottom is high-waisted and I figured that my body isn’t as receptive to the trend as I hoped it would be. It’s a fine dress to wear only when I’m on my feet; but the moment I sit, all hell breaks loose.

But I do love the color of my heels— they’re the sweetest baby blue which contrasts well with the boring b&w. And speaking of b&w, I should really scratch the combo out of my closet. Well, that certainly leaves some space for some good old resolution next year!
PS The shopping and movie trips with my mother had been tremendous fun today. I was lucky enough to scour a well-tailored Miss Code blazer in calm gray with a 50% discount!

LOLEETA

2008-12-11T22:24:00.001+08:00

I want hearts for eyes because I'm yearning to have my boyfriend all safely wrapped in my arms after such a long, physical separation. I prefer the red Lolita ones but black happens to be just as adorable. These sunglasses, in my opinion, lean more toward the tacky side in high street history but I just love them. They speak for me, in loud kitschy manner that I am full of love, now that my boyfriend is coming home oh so soon for good. I haven't found my hearts yet but in time, I will try to get them from the core of Forever 21 or Topshop. And because I'm presently dreaming of heart-shaped glasses, I also took a shot tonight at re-watching the Stanley Kubrick picture for the second time. I'm still in awe of Sue Lyon's performance and frankly, I've fallen again for Peter Sellers. His charming, nonchalant brand of humor really got my heart fluttering (oh boy, I've been using the word heart a tad too much!). What can I say- funny men are the most coveted creatures!

CHRISTMAS

2008-12-10T00:33:00.004+08:00

I love Christmas at Damansara ever since I moved here more than a year ago. The season’s decorations at the nearest malls are whitey fanciful and filled with joyous spirits. Pardon me, though because I don’t exactly venture out to the more eclectic city of Kuala Lumpur; the plusher malls might have brighter and more gargantuan Christmas trees.
The people of my native are generally fond of Jesus’ birthday more so than the Americans, as far as I could see. During my precious college years in the States, Christmas had been nothing but a passive celebration in my eyes. But oh, I do miss the delectable marriage between the big fat American-bred turkey and cranberry sauce.

This year, the number of thrift stalls in The Street’s flea market area has risen and there are an abundance of colorful for one’s eyes to feast upon. I was hunting down some marshmallow santas and gingerbreadmen but look what I found instead.

At only MYR 49, this baby is definitely a steal. The flower details managed to enthral every bit of me. I’m a lover of all things ye olde and English. I haven’t had a blue handbag in my collection, what more of a vintage-y design. My heart is telling me that it will go well with my other floral dresses, particularly the yellow-based, summer-y Work of Art piece.

A wonderful-est Christmas find indeed.

DOUBLE

2008-11-24T18:25:00.003+08:00

Fashion’s most elitist bunny Fifi Lapin had covered the wonders of Chanel’s ready-to-wear collection for Fall 2008. I wouldn’t normally gush over fashion presented on runaways but the styles of these particular dresses are just my cup of tea (with the right amount of sugar). In other words, I have worn something close to these from a long time ago without bearing the double Cs half-inverted.

However, I am hooked on these double-toned tights— a pair costs approximately USD 250.

Being a fan of tights and having bought no more than MYR 30 each from either Sawks Avenue or Soxworld, I wonder if these are as durable as leather. For that price, I would expect it not to rip at all. I would expect it not to even tear if I run my sharpest, most painful pair of scissors on it. If Chanel’s tights are really that resilient, then I would consider it well-priced perfection. Something worth coveting for, at least while the air is still icy in the Western hemisphere. Perfection except, again, for the signature double Cs.

I can never set my heart on showy designer emblems.

POMME

2008-11-18T18:04:00.009+08:00

Here’s a quick try, my very first hand at illustrating my outfit for today:

Dress, gift from a friend; Belt, Upstairs...the Boutique; Shoes, Clarks

I used to be fond of black during my awkward, coming-of-age days. My closet was constructed out of purely black clothes and suffice to say, I grew up feeding on black like some staple meal. But ever since I discovered the joie de vie brought on by different color palettes at the age of nineteen, I had dropped off black from my style vocabulary.

But lately, I’ve been feeling a bit sluggish— no courses to teach, no classes to go to during the college two-month break. And whenever I feel languid, black is the best option- the most reliable color so far. This was the first time that I wore my apple belt to work— I couldn’t quite capture its details on paper. I also had on my favorite Bengkel Oi velvet Dorothy heels earlier but for some reason, they had grown a size bigger. I was walking very slowly as to not trip! Because I was too flustered with my shoes as of today, I thought this effortless illustration would do.

Till next time, I’d post the real deal.

EUROSE

2008-11-15T23:19:00.007+08:00

Top, secondhand; Skirt, Creme at Jusco; Corsage, thrifted; Bag, my mother's; Shoes, Clarks

I went to the nearby cinema last night in conjunction with the 9th European Union Film Festival 2008. I was simply reliving my days as a (theoretical) film student, hunting down a number of slow, masturbatory European/ indie American to watch. I dressed up for the simple occasion in the style of Godard’s wooden yet beloved character Patricia from ‘A Bout de Souffle.’

Handed down by my mother, the striped long sleeve top was a size bigger than my body. Maybe in time I would really learn how to sew this to fit me brilliantly. The same with the skirt— how I wish I had sewn it a size smaller to give it the appearance of a bulbous, high-waisted skirt of a bygone era. The rose corsage, to some, might scream ‘Sex and the City’s Carrie Bradshaw rather than Patricia Franchini. It is built extraordinarily albeit dangerously; it doubles as a hairclip as it is a corsage with a pin. So if I’m not too careful with it, I might risk pricking my own poor scalp to bleed. I thought wearing a flower in my hair was too ornate for the occasion so I undertook the Carrie way. Ironically, I used the hairclip to keep the corsage in place.

The film I saw was Yolande Moreau’s ‘Quand La Mer Monte.’ The cinema was filled with mostly a group of expatriates longing for a familiar taste of their homelands. Moreau was beautiful in the film— her quirkiness surpasses that of Zooey Deschanel or Bjork. I liked her in ‘Amelie;’ I like her better in her own film. The story was absent of any traditional conflict and I found it rather refreshing that way. However, two hours of droning slice-of-life sort of tale kind of disturbed my nerves after awhile. I didn’t go on any slopes or peaks; just a long straight road till the end. But in any case, the film had its sweetest moments. Watching it reminds me of the life I had with my boyfriend in the States— monotonous yet sweet.

The next film on the Euro list is ‘Paris’ but I have to wait till next Friday comes and greet me in the face.

BUBBLE

2008-11-10T22:32:00.012+08:00

Jacket, Mario Gena at Fesyen Zon; Blouse, secondhand; Skirt, Bloq My Style!; Bag, Furry Tails; Shoes, Clarks

Today I wanted to discard the blacks/ grays and bring in some outlandish colors instead to work. And not just any colors off the spectrum. I decided to pluck out hues that would remind me of lightweight cotton candy on my tongue and yummy Paddle Pops, melting and dripping from my fingers on a blistering day. Such thoughts usually help me get through with sluggish Mondays in perfect motion. Everything that I’m wearing in this photograph has never met each other before or even paired together with, saved for the lacey floral blouse and the jacket. The blouse used to be my sister’s— I’m too fond of hand-me-downs; they’re just as historic as thriftwares. The tangerine bubble skirt came from a Harajuku-inspired store called Bloq My Style! about a year ago when it was still alive. The store is now dark and vacant; what is left is the hanging bubbly-sized signboard at the entrance. Pairing other items of clothing with this skirt has been so math to me— a concept that I find a hard time at grasping. But in time, I believe, I will be able to figure something more concrete with it. This outfit is a child’s step toward that.

SAUVAGE

2008-11-07T21:40:00.006+08:00

I was fortunate— the viral had left my body and I was up and running at work. I also went to get my friend Waz this shirt from my favorite 100% Malaysian graphic tee store Radioactive. I heard his parents are strictly against non-collared shirts, which made my shopping absurdly harder. I felt a slight wickedness in me the moment I was informed that the shirt costs only MYR 20 instead of its original price. For solely ‘practical’ reasons, I’m passionate about buying shirts for my guy friends. So you can imagine how many shirts I’ve wrapped in bundles of love for my significant other.

Beret, Deeper n' Harder; Blouse, Shibuya at Apee; Dress, Unknown; Tights, Soxworld; Boots, Vincci

Regarding these photographs, they’re a rather shameful testimony to my own denial. I did mention how I want to be super-thrifty as I’m nearing December but a recent window-shopping trip to Vincci murdered the mission. I hunted down three Vincci stores in three different malls before I found these gray beauties from the Fall collection in my size. I surprised myself— the drive in me was very animalistic. I felt no exhaustion while doing it. And speaking of such untamed animal drive, featuring my ferret Russel’s tail together with my new purchase illustrates it perfectly. Russel seemed to love the boots too— he kept on smelling the faux leather and burrowing his head into them.

(Well, possibly to bite my ankles more than anything else).

LOLITA

2008-11-04T00:18:00.005+08:00

Testement of my fatigued, washed-out face after a day of tedious invigilation at work:

Blouse, unknown; Skirt, Creme at Jusco; Tights, thrifted at The Street Market; Shoes, Passion at Upstairs...the Boutique

I’ve always had this outfit in my mind but had never tried to materialize it until today. And I have to tell the world that I love every bit of it. I’m no fan of all-black getup but this is an exception. I don’t usually wear this particular ruffled blouse either because it takes surmountable energy to iron the ruffles to crisp perfection. I couldn’t transfer to La La land last night so I spent quite some time doing some serious ironing. There’s an art to ironing, I suppose. I think the trick lies in the way you press the metal on a certain momentum. I ran out of starch so the result wasn’t breathtaking. Oh, and the skirt was the hardest to iron too. But I love it nonetheless for its full and flare-ish body without having to disguise a tulle underneath. If I had it altered properly, it would take on the appearance of a high-waisted skirt.

On another note, I’m swearing off my hands from shopping for new clothes, at least till the end of murky November. Reason number one: my wardrobe is about to explode all of its guts. Instead of selling, I’m thinking of giving away my clothes for charity. Perhaps to a number of orphanages within the Klang Valley. I’ve done this since I was in school; the thought of a few girls benefitting from my overweight wardrobe is a good feeling. Reason number two: I’m broke this month, thanks to the restoration of life for my Macbook. I thought of postponing my enrolment in the New York-based Gotham Writers' Workshop to summer next year (if my Master’s course is not too rough for me). However, my darling mother had offered to pay the fees until I recover from very own my economic predicament. Worse comes to worst, I can just enrol in the program next year and build up my fiction portfolio with the editorial help of my word-savvy boyfriend.

Speaking of that, despite the sudden depletion of cash and slight change of program, I can still find a concrete reason to smile. My boyfriend is finally graduating from my alma mater, Western Michigan University and coming home very, very soon— in a matter of forty two days!

Such goodness in life.

AY, ALISON

2008-11-01T00:17:00.003+08:00

The last time I became all ghostly as a burn victim on All Hallows Eve was two years in the past. Angels and vampires were cliché in my book— I wanted something more visceral than stereotypes. My gifted guy did a marvelous job with the ghastliness of my makeup; he also helped me carve Miss Pussy Pumpkin with perfection. What wonderful memory that was. Ever since I moved thousands of miles away upon graduation, my guy and I had no longer felt the need to celebrate the spooky tail end of October without each other. So in the course of All Hallows Eve last night, I spent my time alone in my apartment by doing something un-Halloween and that was to watch and clumsily dance to Goldfrapp live at Somerset House:

This was one of my favourite numbers out of all— a gutsy, ‘cock-tease’ take of the classic “Yes Sir, I can Boogie.” The performance is dated five years ago, the same year I discovered the band and their half-swaggering, half-ethereal sound. Only recently, Alison Goldfrapp has come up with the heavy 70s-laden Seventh Tree and a bohemian-piratey appearance as a silent homage to one of Vivienne Westwood’s older collection. I must say that I quite not like both the record (save for one or two numbers) and her new look. I am more loyal toward their older materials, especially Felt Mountain and Black Cherry, and the way Ms. Goldfrapp had dressed herself (without the assistance of anyone whose portfolio may have included Dazed and Confused) inspires me. She was sexy and all glam in the guttural sort with her sparkly heels, magician’s hat and signature little black dresses.

I especially love the outfit that Ms. Goldfrapp was obsessed with at one point in time— the whole black shebang with the mini skirt, puffy-sleeved shirt and soldier’s hat. The soldier’s hat became her trademark circa the emergence of pageboy hats in clubs and malls. No one really followed her path in style and I was surprised. I mean, she definitely was more Alice before Gwen Stefani took a tacky spin with the classic tale by adorning tutus and tall hats too. The soldier/ air hostess hat was too unconventional perhaps but I love it. Perhaps I’m back in love with it too because it’s unconventional. Now if only I can get my hands on one, I would even wear it during my own lectures with some Goldfrapp pride.

CHAMBRE

2008-10-29T22:28:00.004+08:00

I finally got back my Cats Whiskers pink dress all wonderfully altered by Liz from Little Chamber. I found this little gem a few weeks ago by happenstance— and it’s officially one of my favourite standalone boutiques so far within the 'fashion avenue' of Dataran Sunway.

Upon climbing the stairs to this little hideaway, I couldn’t help but to notice the sweet almond-painted walls covered partly in flower-patterned wallpapers. The first thing that greeted me from across the entrance door was an antique headdress with the most beautiful cinched dress in burgundy. The vintage vibe was almost instant. The whole tiny space had the appearance of a little Anglo cottage hidden in a cocoon.

Thumbing through the clothes from one rack to another was like traversing in a quiet forest. Most are a mixed of greens, rusts and toasts with a hint of pale roses in between. Notably, Little Chamber has a significant theme to its items; they are brand new but with a distinct feel of archaicness. Or rather, they’re a bunch of vintage remakes. I bought two dresses, all of which appear like what those impish British young girls would wear while playing hopscotch at the schoolyard. As the Belinda, the owner put it, the clothes were “simply English.” Ironically, she brought over the clothes from the Orient.

On a side note, the clothes are generally large. In fact, most of them remind me of the vintage stores that I visited while I was vacationing in old Hollywood. But thankfully, Little Chamber has its Liz— the resident seamstress who will alter the clothes to fit. For me, a boutique with an in-house seamstress is wonderful because it saves me plenty of precious time. I’ve never really had the time to teach myself proper sewing (although I know I should)!

MORT

2008-10-27T02:47:00.003+08:00

Sadly, my old Macbook had been sick of late and it died on me last afternoon while I was constructing links to this blog. I had it sent to Mac City and I shall see it again, albeit with a brand new ‘brain’ next week. I’m also thinking of buying myself an iMac with a twenty inch screen for my birthday this coming January (I’m just not too hyped on the iPhone or iPod Touch at all). For the time being, I’m posting lesser photographs, especially of my exhibitionist self, because I have to use my sister’s Macbook and it just feels funny editing on someone else's property!

AUBERGINE

2008-10-25T02:28:00.003+08:00

Once upon a time, I was admiring these Bamboo Palm shoes from a distance. I even printed about it a few weeks ago and dreamt about walking on the clouds in them. And today, I finally strip a portion of my pay check on them and I have never been this gratified. I have worn Clarks before but they were bought by my mother. Buying your own gives you a completely different feeling altogether about ownership. So you can say that these are my very first pair of Clarks— they are these beautifully rich and blackish aubergine-colored that are light in mass, comfortable and in short, splendid. The craftsmanship of Clarks has always been meticulous in comfort, judging from the three pairs that I’ve been hoofing around previously. And the brand certainly churns our great-looking Mary Janes, which just pleasures my heart completely. I’m officially a fan.

DICHOTOMIE

2008-10-24T12:24:00.007+08:00

Here is a glimpse of the fabrics belonging to a pair of my new dresses. They were calling for me, and I had to make them my own. The afternoon skies were pouring quite heavily, but I had errands to run at the neighboring township of Uptown. There were a number of independent boutiques scattered all across the landscape, seducing the impish shopper in me. And of all the boutiques, I saw Little Black Book— a charming one with a huge selection of extra-chunky belts of delicious colors and dresses of the floral, sand-beachy kind. Each garment was available in very few numbers, making them all together unique. But of all the big, flowery genus, I fell in love with the golden circusesque dress. It has a tamed collection of diagonal lines, which really made my nerves quiver.

As for the blue polka-dot beauty, I met her at Cats Whiskers. I’ve always wanted a figure-licking polka-dot dress in cornflower blue and white to go with some sheer tights to spend the night out. And Cats Whiskers has always been the kind of boutique that has everything that you can think of in its stomach. So voila, the blue dress was in store for the day! I shall scribble more on this practical little gem someday (it’s really worth getting to know the Catty establishment!). But for now, I’m thinking that some days are just fated to be great days to find a lucky match in your shopping list. No matter how well-stocked a store is, you might need a little luck for the day.

GLOSSY

2008-10-23T22:57:00.008+08:00

Today marks the end of my second semester in the Australian graduate school. I wrote my research findings on the glocalized versions of Cosmopolitan and CLEO in just one day; my part itself contained 4,000 worth of words and numerous of colorful magazine cut-outs placed in the dossier. I just can’t wait to complete my Master’s and get on with the second phase of my life. Soon enough I’ll start fresh elsewhere, possibly still lecturing (I heart my profession too much) but even most possibly out of my native. But for now, here’s a photograph captured by a friend of my industrial visit to one of the most famous magazine publishing houses in my darling homeland:

Beret, Deeper N' Harder; Turtleneck, my mother's; Dress, X'thephine; Necklace, Doodle; Bag, Sophie.

To think that I used to dream of becoming a lifestyle/ fashion writer (this dream came about when I was still working in the video production line i.e. underpaid and depressed and feeling mighty useless). The girly politics of it all, as confirmed by one of their staff writers, can be mighty taxing. And to write about objects of admiration that you can’t certainly afford on a daily basis puts the bleakness on another level. So as an alternative, I might want to plunge into the pop cultural side of high street fashion to complete my possible dissertation before graduating. Good enough.

GLITCH

2008-10-19T20:20:00.020+08:00

My cousin came over to my place for the weekend so I took her for dinner at the little dusky Villa Danieli that was cozily rustic and pastoral. We had lots of warm Italian loaves, milky raviolis, apple pastries with gelato and shredded duck salad that tasted of sweet bitterhood. We went through the dinner discussing the science of our own boyfriends (our lovely men originated from the same place) and the politics of our family, particularly our ever-so-kooky grandma and her cats. We met up with my sister later for a photograph or two in front of the the charming eating place and the product was a living testament to my wardrobe malfunction:

Jacket, Wet Seal; Dress, Miss K Boutique (the ruined one!); Shoes, Montego Bay at Payless Shoes.

If you inspect carefully, the delicate string of my halter dress that I was wearing broke and left my chest exposed (without me noticing for god knows how long). For every step that I took, the dress slowly lowered, almost revealing to the world my embarrassment. The evening wasn’t over yet because my sister was resolute about going for a three-hour karaoke session (a family ritual, believe it or not, next to the movies) so I had to resort to tying the body of my jacket with the broken string before we left. Problem fixed but I don’t think I’d dare buy any halter dresses with frail strings ever!

HANDMADE?

2008-10-17T22:42:00.014+08:00

Fridays were usually lighter for me. A screening session in the morning and blissful blankness in the afternoon. But today I had to visit a sister college together with my colleagues and eager students for an art showcase by the graduating students. I brought my sister along and we met up with my old friend Luq who was working on the showcase.

Bag, free from (ak.'sa.ra); Shoes, Vans.

We saw choppy student films and admired manipulated photo works. My sister sent me to the university in the rain; our shoes were bathing in puddles and I was cold as the night approached. I presented my group’s paper on women’s magazines in cold feet but I was glad that all of us girls did a wonderful job. My friends asked if I had drawn the hands on my feet and sewn the thread on my bag. I replied with a ‘yes, sure.’ ‘I also make my own shirt and jeans and everything else,’ I added. And they marveled at that.

Some people just tend to chew my jokes literally, it’s painful. And now I need to bury my head in the core of my pillow- I need my sleep so much!

RUBIS

2008-10-16T00:15:00.016+08:00

Well, I must say that I’m also proud of the latest baby in my family of bags. I got it from a little cart stall in the heart of Ikano Power Centre called Furry Tails, which in my opinion is the best place to find vintage-inspired pieces. I bargained this baby well; the assistant basically told me that it looks designer-ish on purpose. I simply purchased it because I adored the combo of dark colors rather than its design-y-whatever-you-name-it shape. But now that I’m wearing this quite frequently, I only realized that the owner had a valid point. It could be inspired, it could be a knock-off. I couldn’t tell which is which- pardon me for my lack of knowledge in the trend department.

Bag, Furry Tails.

So on my quest to find a plausible identical designer twin, I found Counterfeit Chic instead. The website features well-written articles regarding fishy similarities between one high-end designer and the other; a knockoff and the real deal and more updates on the copycats off Project Runway. It’s an educational read although the tone can be condescending at one point or another. I didn’t find the answer to my bag but I did find that couture is no longer untouchable. Unbelievable, no? That little piece of information alone was sufficient enough for me to stop my quest.

Enlightened much!

ROSEY

2008-10-14T21:32:00.012+08:00

A wonderful day it was today. Work was very productive and the drive home from college was beautiful. The sun had its golden means on all of the rising buildings. And it was slightly raining. And whenever the sky rained, the condominium where I live in appear misty from below the hill. The droplets created a giant beam of rainbow which pierces into several puffy clouds. The whole beauty looked as if it came straight from a children’s fantasy book.

Shoes, Tang.

An oh, of course, the fact that I had bucket full of compliments regarding my shoes, making it the most popular amongst my girl students (next to my beloved Oxford heels) also made me the happiest girl at that moment. Sometimes I forget that I have a collection of shoes dipped in so many colors! They hibernate underneath my futon and just today, I decided not to take for granted of them. Especially Little Miss Pinkie Dots, which served to match my pink jacket and hands-me-down black dress. And well, on another note, rainbows and compliments in one day are certainly what a girl needs to feel good!

BAMBOO

2008-10-11T21:14:00.005+08:00

My eyes laid upon this pair of novel treasure from Clarks in the latest issue of Female magazine and I was just smitten by its physique. No shoes can capture my heart more than comely sets of Mary Janes, from the lowest of all flats to the gravity-defying ones. And I trust this British line a lot- the shoes have never failed me in anyway and they are the friendliest and gentlest things to have ever coat my feet.

Originally, I yearn for the T-bar heels. They can be seen wrapping around the many dainty feet of young damsels across European cyberland. But this pair of Bamboo Palm shoes happens to be more vocal in comparison. Well, it definitely speaks louder of me. I'm a religious Mary Janes follower; I'm a nun of the Mary Janes faith. So the likeliest, most promising thing for now is that I will drop the T-bar hunt for now and begin my pursue of this pair of exquisite charcoal-colored babies instead.

Now you can say that Clarks will get lucky soon.

PATRICIA

2008-10-10T22:50:00.011+08:00

Sunglasses, Ray Ban; Top, Debenhams; Skirt, Warehouse; Shoes, Gargyle; Newspaper, [optional]

Jean Seberg’s most well-known international character in ‘A Bout de Souffle’ is for many independent women out there to admire. As a free-spirited young American in Paris, Patricia Franchini shouts ‘New York Tribune!’ along Champs Elysees, dates/ sleeps/ holds existentialist conversations with her criminal-on-the-run boyfriend Michel and finds her seductive ways in launching her journalistic career off with certain top people of the NY paper. And in doing so, Patricia’s natural beauty (albeit the occasional impishness she conveys) is further highlighted with the chic Parisienne exterior of her flowy skirts and clutches topped with an American casualness of flats and cigarette pants. Hers is one irregular life that is worth experiencing (in younger days) of any modern women of today.

JAUNISSE

2008-10-10T22:04:00.026+08:00

Jacket, Wet Seal; Dress, P&Co at Padini; Bag, Furry Tails; Tights, Soxworld; Shoes, Forever 21.

I wore this ensemble, a rather slipshod one, to screen Godard’s “A Bout de Souffle” early in the day at college. One boy turned up wearing a beret; whether or not that was intentional is a mystery to me. Speaking of intentions, especially the humorously silly ones, I had a beret in mind too. I was imagining the whole structure of the look- b&w striped top, black flowing skirt and flashy red shoes. But surely that would be tacky of me to dress up as a Frenchie for the sake of a nouvelle vague picture.

So I scratched that idea off, buried my hands deeper into the throat of my white wardrobe and found this P&Co shift dress with a large bow detail as a low-key substitute instead. My main idea was to pair it with my tomato-red tights to produce high contrast but I decided that such hue would either horrify my student-audience or amuse them at the expense of my mortification. For the lack of imagination, I let my legs be wrapped in the dirty-mustard one instead. Then another boy (all shaggy-haired) came up to me, submitted his worksheet on my table and quipped, "Do you have jaundice?"

Priceless.

VELMA

2008-10-09T00:37:00.007+08:00

Glasses, Muse; Turtleneck, Fesyen Zon; Dress, Roberta di Camerino at Nichii; Tights, Soxworld; Shoes, 138 at Tang.

The construction of this look was inspired from a woman who appeared on a page in an old copy of NYLON magazine. I lost that copy, possibly from all that rushed moving from one apartment to the next. Despite the magazine's absence, her image stayed affixed in my head. She's an independent fashion designer from Mexico whose name was too long and (somewhat) destined to be easily forgotten. But her outfit in that photographed was remarkably memorable and worth being echoed. With an amicable smile, she had on the simplest tanned-orange dress over fitting white shirt and the most stylish knee-length brun suede boots.

I was in awe!

I seldom see orange on people walking in the streets. It's not as kitschy as yellow tends to appear yet it still remains below-par in the list of human-oriented colors. And to see a poised young lady working out the tone without succumbing religiously to any routine fad of that year was reinvigorating. So I paid an homage to the unknown subject by pairing this 1960s-inspired Roberta di Camerino dress with my favorite bleached white turtleneck. Initially I thought of walking around all day in the faux-suede boots I bought during one of my shopping sprees with Xavier. But surely boots would look fiercely out of place while I'm on the job? I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to prove my heart wrong so the substitute that were to grace my feet had to be my trusty Mary Janes.

CITRON

2008-10-08T21:45:00.018+08:00

Glasses, Muse; Cardigan, Nichii; Top, Unknown; Skirt, Oriental at Isetan KLCC; Shoes, E-Kiss.

The past few days had been quite unwelcoming; yesterday was the peak of my frustration. I was just completely distraught with what I have to go through in my graduate school. It has nothing to do with grades, no. There were just some situations that I was disagreeable with. I know it’s a bit repulsive to start off this blogspace with such pessimism but it was too hurtful.

So at night, I hid myself in my bedroom (or rather, my bedroom-cum-open closet lately) and mapped out some colors— mustard, lemon, milk white— just anything to sew back the wounds. And luck had it that I found this cardigan. I never wore it because it reminds me of that tasteless citrus smell of squeaky clean cars. But according to this advice, the color should be able to make me happy. Colors of lemon drops are wholesome for the heart. Like medicine, the yellow hues can mend the damage caused by tangible or emotional bleedings. I put some faith in that notion. Even one percent of happiness should do me good.

I awoke the morn today, stared first thing at the mirror and saw my eyes looking brighter than before. I had my sleep, I was still a bit distressed but at least I had some sleep. That’s one good sign, I told myself. One reason to be one percent happier than before. Later, I threw the cardigan on and I must say that it worked out its own miraculous ways. It got along well with my flowery skirt, the most expensive I’ve owned so far. The sunny tone made my heart still; it matched the color of the bright day outside. And the matching shoes just added a pinch of a smile on my face.

So note to self: a couple of extra hours of sleep and a drop of yellow is what I need to be less low.

PS And oh, being featured with my classmates on Jin's Hitz.FM blog is a sweet boost too. It was the same with the wonderful fudge-filled chocolate and cheese cupcakes from Choffles that I had during tea at work. They certainly made life glorious!

HELLO

2008-10-07T21:44:00.014+08:00

A few moons ago, I discovered an abundance of colorful style (and street style) blogs maintained by thrifty-yet-creative young women from all across America and Euro land. Each blog is packed with bright photographs of immaculately styled outfits as a colorful testament to their personal experimentations with clothes and shoes. They exist like a colony of neo-Alices in cyber-Wonderland and soon enough, following the pursuits of their fashionable happiness became my addictive pastime.

Being a long-time fashion lover (and unmistakably a victim at times), I've miraculously discovered new ways of making full use of the rags that are hanging in my wardrobe ever since I stumbled across these logbooks of styles. Dressing up has now become a more meaningful experience than just plain fun; it’s akin to a clever math problem where the clothes are as fluid as numbers. I can jumble up and mix together a number of different items and come up with a concrete style of my own.

Moreover, my role as an academician has elbowed me into reading on critical fashion theories and postulations on retail and designer consumption. Some have been an enlightening read and such clever thoughts on vanity that was supposedly brought on by fashion have actually prompted me to launch my own style blog. I'm not a fashion expert per se; I’m just more interested in experimenting with my own coveted pleasures. A style blog can be an appropriate tool to dissect the ways I present myself and the ways I want to be seen by using fashion.

Thus, this blog is a means to sharing my colorful outfits, cheap findings and cute inspirations with all like-minded thrift lovers in cyberspace. Yes, it is borderline shallow, no doubt about that. But after spending a huge chunk of my life on scholastic matters on a day-to-day basis, succumbing to a phenomenon that is deemed shallow (once in awhile) doesn't seem like a bad idea at all. And most importantly, it works like a visual documentary from me about me and my love/hate/love relationship with all things in mode.

Happy reading!