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 :)

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.

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.