May 15, 2013
Perhaps it's because my family isn't big on celebration but I love celebrating big days, making surprises, little gifts and gestures for the people in my life. 2013 has been very good to me and I intend on making a huge deal of every little moment that happens.
For this year's Mother's Day, I made a simple card to go with a cozy wool jumper, Haigh's chocolate truffles and a box of macarons from La Renaissance (I'm so loving edible gifts right now) for the woman who taught me everything I know about folding flat bed sheets.
My mom had fallen in love with the jumper while we were out window shopping but I talked her out of buying it (there will be further discounts, blah blah blah). I then proceeded to steal her membership card and went to the city store to get the jumper. It was sold out and I was already exhausted from my weekend briefing but I headed back to the first store and eventually got my hands on it, only to learn that my little brother had clued her in on our little surprise. All in all, it took me four hours to locate the jumper for a botched surprise. She didn't know about the card, chocolates or macarons though, so there was that :)
We were invited to the Mother's Day special buffet lunch at The Star Event Centre. If you follow my second blog, Sydney Red Carpet (but why should you since this is the first time I mention it), which chronicles my celebrity escapades in Sydney, that is the very place Seal held his concert last month. We were also there for New Year's Eve celebration and I must say The Star did a very good job customising the venue for various events.
May 5, 2013
Could you justify keeping an item simply because you're in love with the collar?
This was the question I asked myself after examining my latest online purchase, all with distinctive collar designs. After much mulling over, I concluded that I'm at that stage in my life where tissue paper thickness, static material and poor sewing just aren't cutting it anymore, no matter how cheap they are or how nice they look tucked under jumpers. I must say, I'm happy to reach that stage.
As the pictures suggest, with the amount of photoshop, color filter and styling these days, it has become so much harder to gauge the quality or feel or even the true color of a garment from pictures alone. I've made peace with the fact that what most people are really selling is the feeling, a lovely illusion. It takes a particularly sharp-eyed person to not get swayed by those dreamy, vintage style pictures with flowers / sun / bokeh / nature or flower field as the backdrop. That's excellent photography, a style I personally adore, but by no means is it accurate. I certainly don't want to end up with a blazer that could set me on fire or a floral dress that look like they were parts of someone's curtain once.
I have however, decided to keep this white mod style dress with black trims. The material is thick, fully lined and well sewn. Worn as a dress, it makes me feel like a politician's wife and since that's one look that I couldn't pull off, I will be wearing it as a shirt instead.
Verdict: Adorable designs aside, I can't recommend these for the fit or quality. I also learn that sheer white chiffon blouse isn't for me. I need opaque or at least, colored sheer.
April 20, 2013
Technically, it's Autumn here in Sydney, but you know what I mean.
It's no secret that I am an impulse shopper. I'm that girl who rationalises frivolous purchases with:
I can fit into that!
My shoulders could probably still grow.
Maybe with different shoes...
If I just lose 2 pounds...
But it's on SALE!!!!
I've long dreamed of a simpler lifestyle and giving up trivial pursuits because honestly, I can survive with the bare essentials. How awesome would it be if you could fit your most prized items in a suitcase and just fly off somewhere if need be? Yet, my closet is noticeably lacking in the essentials while overflowing with cute, trendy items that I quickly grow out of. Well, I know what to do. I have to declutter.
During the process of decluttering my wardrobe, I discovered that I'm also a stage III hoarder, and that 3/4 of my wardrobe consists of hardly, if ever, worn pieces, some with the tags still on. Then there is the make-up, bags, tights and shoes that I bought, used once and forgot that I have, because I am really the type to rotate between 3 pairs of shoes until the soles give up.
April 19, 2013
Beautiful hands, I remember thinking that as I watched the way you mussed up your hair without care. Long and lean fingers with neatly trimmed tips, almost graceful in their movement. I wonder who's got the longer hands, you or me.
I didn't realize I had said that last words out loud.
You raised your eyebrow, then your left hand in a challenge. Wanna bet? You said.
Friends cheered. It was a day of excruciating dullness, and any change of pace, silly as it was, was very much welcomed.
I was confident that I'd win, having thought that while I was short and vertically challenged in every other way, my hands were not. Perhaps, they were my only features not let down by the metric system. At the right angle, under appealing lighting, they looked nice, even.
I could almost recall how it felt when I put my right hand up against yours. Almost, but not quite. Theoretically, I remember that I was first overwhelmed by the warmth, then the gentle pressures as you adjusted your hand so that the base of our palms met. I remember that you smiled your amused smile, that my heart softly hummed and my cheeks felt hotter though those around me did not seem to notice.
Seven odd years and countless of hand bets with strangers later, I, for the life of me, couldn't conjure up that same feeling that went on for five too short seconds.
You were right. Even with my mile long nails, you won by a couple inches.
I told you so, you said, your hand still warm against mine, and I pretended to be disappointed.
Worth a try, I replied. As I withdrew my hand and our eager friends wanted to challenge you on the bet themselves, I thought again.
You have beautiful hands.
But I said it not.
I found this story I wrote ages ago. I guess I've started writing 'Dear Teddy' for such a long time and just didn't realise it. Isn't that just sad?
Crossposted on Wattpad.
April 14, 2013
“Nick!” She managed to slide past the door Neo style just before he swung it close and told Betty to inform her that he was not in his office.
It was so close.
As it was, he had no other choice but to talk to her. Cat Lovett would insist on talking, of that he was fairly certain. Even now, he could hear the all too eager sound of boots trampling behind him.
As Nicholas Lee lamented over this unfortunate turn of events, a plan hatched in his head. He lit up. Australia was, in a relative sense, still a free country. Therefore, he was not legally bound to listen to her talking about “the incident”. He was still contemplating on whether it was big enough an issue to warrant capitals and at the moment, quotation marks seemed to suffice.
Rather than trying to do the impossible by avoiding her for the rest of his hopefully long and successful life, Nick would let her have a chance to talk and in return, he, to not hear a word of it. In fact, she could talk and talk and talk and well, whatever Cat would do next. Nick, on the other hand, would find himself suddenly liberated for a couple of hours that he could use to review the new promotional ads for Super Water. Devising a campaign strategy that kept people from remembering the company as the energy drink that turned people green and planted a “USED TO BUT NOT ANYMORE” persuasion on millions of people, all in a thirty-second ad, was no simple feat. Hopefully before Nick even realised it, Cat would have left his office, all would be well and he would have a good night’s sleep again.
The plan seemed so highly operable that Nick wanted to applaud himself, and he turned to face her with this new spirit only to have it crushed down to pieces.