BLEU?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.