On a day like this when nothing seem to go right…(please complete the remaining).
My answers:
1) nothing compares to spending time with someone who can always lighten you up, make you smile and make you laugh so effortlessly.
Thank you for making me forget about the world outside, all of a sudden I feel like I can finally breathe and feel alive again
2) and you can't even figure out what to wear to work, button up your checked shirts and go preppy. Stick to the timeless palette of navy, brown, beige, black and white. And add a pop of red if you wish. You can't go wrong with this.
At least this is wht I do for today. I LOVE shirts.
3) Watch videos of Robert Downey Jr and act like a 16 year-old. :)
I think I'm a logophile, a lover of words.
Words are simply fascinatingly beautiful----the way they look and sound, the way they are structured and placed and the way they magically carry and express meanings and feelings.
And I like to play with words.
How can I talk about the art of words without talking about writing?
Writing is an art which transform intangible things into something so tangible like words on paper.
But such a transformation is bizarre when you think about it--when the heavy intangible things are distilled into something tangible yet light and paper-thin.
I have a soft spot for anything hand-written.
I love how emotion-charged and intimate they are.
But sometimes, I find hand-written letters so intimate that they are almost provocative.
Sometimes, letters are so intimate that I'm scared of them--both sending and receiving.
A hand-written letter is so...how should I put it?
Tangible,
touchable and
traceable.
Hand-written notes and letters are the traces of people's existence in our lives, or ours in theirs.
They are so permanent and unchangeable.
What was written is gonna be there no matter how many times you read it.
But unlike the permanent ink stain on paper, feelings and people change.
Scary, isn't it?
And who knows what people do with our hand-written letters that we poured our hearts into?
Maybe the receiver might dig the letters out some years later and find them ridiculous & hilarious and throw them away as if they never mattered?
Or some have their letters boxed up and hidden, wanna throw them away but never have the guts to?
Who knows what people we loved would become, those people we held dear and who held us dear?
While guys dream about gadgets that could do everything, I dream of things that are less ambitious.
For example, a certain type of paper.
Is there a kind of paper that will naturally disappear or vaporize if not touched in a long time?
1) If people don't want me to leave traces of my existence in their lives or vice versa, that would be the type of people I would use to write letters.
2) This type of paper would tell me who treasures my hand-written notes and who doesn't.
3) I would allow my strong emotions to flow, pour them all out in writings without the fear for embarrassment afterwards. It is the type of paper that I will use words so absolute like 'forever', 'always' and 'never'.
I just had a dream in which I was pouring my heart out word after word, sentence after sentence.
I was writing the most romantic (or disgusting for some) letter, though I don't know who I was writing to.
'Your voice stays in my mind. Every word you said is my treasure. I find relief in every thought of you. Every pore on my skin longs for your touch. There is not a single day that goes by without me thinking of you... '
It went on and on.
And the worst line finally came----'I love you, forever and always.'
" 'Forever and always'?"
"I don't use such words."
Even in my dreams, I am fear of not being able to deliver my promise and the fear for embarrassment which follows when someone reads my handwritten messages.
At the same time, I am aware of the fact that there is no guarantee in life.
I am so clear about that, even in my dreams.
Are these reason why people stop writing to each other now? I mean with pen, paper and ink, not internet, computer and keyboard.
Being so clear-minded means I woke up from the dream before I sign the letter.
I woke up, feeling the urge to write letters to people I love and hold dear---family, close friends and my love.
Along with that desire to write was the same thought: could there be a special kind of paper that will disappear or vaporize if no one reads them for a long time?
Would someone please invent them? Please?
This time, a soft voice in my head gave me the answer.
Another example of how my brain always amaze me in the most unexpected ways and time.
The soft voice said,
'The answer is skin.
Write your love on skin, with your fragrance and the warmth of your touch.
No permanence. No trace.
But what you write and your love would leave a mark in the heart----forever and always.'
Ok, an answer that almost rhymes.
Nice job, brain.
'Dear self, you are pathetically romantic but nonetheless, it's a fantastically creative answer.
Problem solved.'
I smiled. And started my day with a decision of giving myself a challenge.
Challenge of the year:
Write more handwritten letters (or cards and little notes).
Dear readers, when was the last time you wrote a letter/card/note to someone?
And remember how precious it feels to receive something handwritten?
Sometimes doing things the old-fashioned way is the best way, isn't it?
:)
Love,
N
P.S. Just pick my outfit for the first day of work. White shirt, blue pencil skirt and a color block cardigan with red strips and a patch of blue around my waist to 'fool the eyes' for a better figure.
Navy, red and white.
Um....the inspiration is France (it could be the American flag too!)
But wait, shouldn't I be inspired by Canada? Oops!
Not today, I like my outfit :)
'Let's party! Time to drink champagne and dance on tables!'
I could still hear the voices of my friends, particularly the ones in the US, saying this.
Oh yes, and their 'woohoo'-s.
Sometimes I find this funny, we human beings are just too good at making up excuses for celebrations, aren't we?
Festivals, New Year, anniversaries, the day we first met, our first date, graduation, 100th day of the newborn...you name it.
It seems that anything could be a reason to eat, drink and be merry.
I recall what I wrote on the invitation for the dinner on my birthday last week:
'While life continue to suck after we left the uni, never run out of excuses for fun and good times!'
Of course, by 'fun and good times', I don't just mean feasts, parties and alcohol.
It's just that sometimes life gets repetitive and dull that we easily forget how precious and wonderful life itself is.
Everyone knows the truth is that the more we feast, party and consume alcohol, the farther we are from happiness.
But the ironic part is that even everyone knows this, so many continue to make the same mistake.
Remember that guilt you have which came along with the extra pounds after you ate too much?
(Yea, the food was too good and I won't be able to resist it either.)
And that terrible hangover you have the next day after you drank a little too much?
(Well, perhaps it was more than just a little...)
I'm sure you know what I'm talking about because, once again, most of us share the same human experiences.
Have you heard saying this? I'm sure I'm not the only one.
Do we really need this much of celebrations?
Or is this the way we entertain ourselves because most of the time we are miserable?
While I am aware of the sugar-coated trap of vanity, I believe every day should be embraced and celebrated.
But not with feasts, champagne and recklessness.
Instead, a whole lot of positivity and love.
English: Life is full of little pleasures
I find myself surrounded by love and blessings, even on days that I feel so bad and negative.
Sometimes when I count my blessings, I feel perplexed: do I really deserve all these?
I honestly think I'm just a girl. Just a girl who is SO DAMN lucky!
'What do you want for your birthday?'
They often expect to hear names of some objects or some brands.
I usually say 'something so precious that I could press my heart against'.
Like a handwritten card with blessings so sincere that the person mean every word he or she writes.
Of course, I appreciate that people are sweet and thoughtful enough to buy me gifts.
But, let's say people aren't very good at listening---I usually end up getting things I didn't say I want, rather than cards.
'Why aren't people better listeners?'----a forever mystery that no one can solve.
Agree with me?
Every year, I ask myself the same question, 'another year older, what's next? what do you want now?
I made a list of goals that I made for myself, not just for the coming year before another birthday, but for the rest of my life.
If a goal has to be concrete, then I'm pretty bad at making a list of goals because I never write something specific like 'save up $____ each month' or 'read 2 books each month'.
But I still think I made an incredible list of life goals and list of things I wanna do.
One of the items on the list: 'Have a constant positive attitude that radiates and a big heart which never seem to run out of love.'
At the end of the day, it's not money and rituals that matters, it doesn't even matter if one is knowledgable, intelligent and well-mannered.
All it matters is a person's heart and virtues.
Is this not the biggest treasure in life?
It's a luxury that can never be bought, only be earned with great effort.
But once you have it, even the most notorious thieves can't steal it.
I could not imagine a better crowning glory than a personality that sparkles and shines better than all the diamonds in the world and a heart of pure gold.
A very important thing I learned: the gift of love can only be appreciated and returned by sharing.
It would be mere selfish if I only accept blessings and love from others.
Of course one has to be grateful, but gratitude is only the start, spreading the love is the next.
I'd like to take this opportunity to share with you a poem by Emily Dickinson titled 'If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking'.
It goes like this:
'If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.'
May I give it a twist and add this,
'If I can give the world the gift of love,
I shall not live in vain.'
This is my birthday wish, what's yours? :)
Dear readers,
No matter who you are, how old you are, where you are,
if so it happens that today is your birthday,
I send you my blessings and my love.
Dear readers, what have you been reading lately? Moi? Recently, I don't seem to get the pleasure I usually get from reading. Have been either reading non-fictions which have something to do with psychology or politics, or fictions which are heavy and only add to my melancholy. Time for me to go back to poetry. Poems I typically read are rather short ones. Yet length certainly doesn't mean poems are light reads. Short but expressive, play of words and let my imagination runs wild----reasons why I love poetry. These long quiet nights appear to be the perfect time (when actually anytime could be good) for me to dig out a few poems and enjoy the simple pleasure they bring me. Make myself a cup of tea, dim the lights a bit, tug in bed, good reads----simple pleasure.
I like the aroma of tea in the air.
Interestingly, a cup of tea before bed has nothing to do with the quality of sleep.
Caffeine is only at the service of my moods; I fall asleep anyway if my mind gives me a break. And if it doesn't, even sleeping pills lose their effect.
Not that I know about many poets and their poems, but there is a certain (type of) poet that I particularly dislike----Xu Zhimo (徐志摩).
I do like Chinese poems as the language itself is poetic and beautiful.
The complexity of the language itself means a single character can carry with it sophisticated or even layers of meanings.
Xu Zhimo is so famous with his poems about Cambridge as well as his romantic love poems.
But it is exactly his 'romantic' love poems that I detest. Or maybe it's his style that repels me.
So exaggerated and so explicit that it is almost vulgar and tawdry to me.
Anyway, I am not a bluestocking nor am I a literary critic, so I'm not giving any more comments.
Dear readers,
Do you have poets or poems that you particularly like? Or do you sometimes write your own poems?
I sometimes do.
Very often I find myself wishing that I was born in the 'good old times', one of the many reasons is that I wish I live in a time when people write poems and give them as gifts---it is simply sweet and meaningful.
I could write simple poems but couldn't really give them out as gifts because I'm afraid it's too much, too emotional and too personal, no matter how close I am with the receiver.
My parents were once separated by distance, but they maintained the love not only through phone calls but also handwritten letters. And many of the times, my dad would write my mum poems and she would write him back.
How romantic!
I wish people still do this now...
Just if the world has more amateur poets and fewer people who complain/curse/talk bullshit/gossip, it would be fantastic.
Tonight, I'm reading some of Pablo Neruda's works.
I share with you this poem which speaks my mind and heart.
Readers, enjoy.
If You Forget Me I want you to know one thing.
You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land.
But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.
The last three line hit me.
Frustration, anger and disappointment only mean my yearning for love.
I can be strong and independent but the truth is, I miss you and I miss the way we were...
Have you ever had those moments that time all of a sudden stop and you feel like you are brought back in time?
Those are the moments when everything seem so familiar.
Those are the moments when it feels like things happened just yesterday but in fact they happened long before yesterday---the feeling of so close yet so far away.
Dejavu, a beautiful French word which literally means 'already seen'.
We have an equally beautiful phrase in Chinese, having the exact meaning.
Human experiences surpasses races as well as time, don't they?
A dejavu brings back precious memories that are as light and short-lived as fog and as fragile as a soap bubble.
Whenever I come across such striking moment which always seem like to bring me back in time with its magical power, I get so taken away that I find myself holding my breath or breathe as softly as possible.
Those moments are so precious that I fear that the sound of myself breathing could break the moment and bring me back to reality.
Yesterday I had a few moments like that.
So overwhelming that they made me speechless.
I was brought back in time in just a split of a second.
It seems like it was just yesterday that I was a student (and I still like to be one), but I could barely remember how it feels like to be one----so familiar but somehow so different now.
Interesting how a change in identity changes a person in just a very short period of time.
I knew time passes and life goes on, but I savored every second of my mental journey of going-back-to-the-past.
While certain things and people change as time passes, I'm glad certain things and people don't.
Reading at my withdrawing room, still one of my favourite and most soothing things to do.
The scent in the air, the sound of typing on a keyboard, the funny sounds that smart phones gives off, the comfortable silence, the calmness that is so pleasant and precious.
The familiarity of a dejavu gave me something that I have been lacking these days----
a deep sense of security as I shut the outside world out and a moment of peace though perhaps a temporary one.
It feels like time stopped but the truth is time flies.
Open and dive in a book, a few short chats and the next thing I know is that hours have passed.
My journey back in time empowered me.
As I was leaving the familiar place, back to the outside world filled with strangers' faces, I felt peaceful. So much better and more ready for the unknown.
Dusk is the time when feelings and thoughts are particularly powerful.
My mind wandered free with random thoughts.
But having a better mood means my brain comes up with nicer thoughts.
One of the many thoughts I had on my way back home was the flawless and timeless Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.
Earphones plugged in, the voice of Frank Sinatra brought me on yet another journey back in time--the time that I wish I were born into.
The good old glamorous times when manners mattered, when men were gentlemen and women were ladies, when music was better and dance was an art.
I'm very stubborn for certain things and values that sometimes I find myself an alien in this modern but rotten world.
You may say I'm old-fashioned in certain ways, but this is just me. :)
Oh Fred and Ginger, watching them dance is such a delight.
I could watch them hours and still feel amused.
The Way You Look Tonight
Cheek to Cheek
A journey back in time brings back memories so pleasant that I am grateful and humbled.
I dedicate this post to people who I can never seem to thank enough, for simply being in my life and making it so much better. :)
I had a great dinner and made a fairly ugly but still tasty apple pie.
I was tired but contented.
It was supposed to be a good night of sleep.
But something woke me up in the middle of the night--I heard myself crying.
I was having a dream.
To be more accurate, a dream within a dream.
In my dream, I was dreaming about my cousin.
And when I woke up (still in the dream), I was telling my mother that I have been dreaming of my cousin a lot these days.
The dream looked very real, only except in reality I don't go around crying and telling people what breaks my heart or what drives me crazy.
Well, maybe this is what I'm doing now, here.
I was in both sorrow and frustration, much like a spoiled kid crying in front of her mum asking for a new toy.
Pretty lousy comparison, in terms of comparing a life to a toy.
But you know I'm only talking about the feeling of sorrow and frustration.
Not only do they combine, they also magnify each other.
That feeling hurts.
It hurts so bad.
In my dreams I was almost shouting as I cry, something that I very rarely do in real life.
Why do we do things we normal won't do in dreams only?
Why couldn't I even cry and shout in real life?
Do I not even have the courage to do that?
In my dream I spilled out everything I feel about my cousin's death.
I hate this feeling that I'm dying to see him again but not being able to, no matter how much I miss him.
I hate not daring to even say his name because it puts me on the verge of breaking down.
His face, his smile, his words and those happy childhood memories.
I hate when memories emerge from the night around me.
No, not only at night.
But anytime, anywhere and for no reason.
Memories just creeps up on me as they wish.
Both the good pleasant ones and the ones less pleasant.
Whether or not it's a pleasant thought or not, I can't help having tears blur my vision every time I think of him.
A thought of my cousin.
Tears blurring my sight.
Memories become so vivid as if I watch them replay with my own eyes again.
Hurts me so bad that I have to close my eyes and shut it out.
Tears drop and roll down my cheeks.
It happens like that every time I thought of him.
Every single time.
I hate the blunt cruel truth that he existed but not anymore, especially when memories are still this fresh and vivid.
I feel helpless and angry, when death sort of turns my cousin, a real person with flesh and blood, into an imaginary person who never existed.
He was there in my life.
He was THERE! But where is he now?
I am still helpless and frustrated months after his death.
One day, we will be gone. And then life goes on and people move on.
The world doesn't seem to change.
But it's never the same.
It's never the same anymore.
Does it even matter if a person exists?
Will I be remembered? For how long?
It scares me.
The moment I poured out everything in my dream, I was in silence.
Just empty silence.
The kind of silence that makes you wanna hold your breathe because breathing is simply too loud.
I spilled out all my feelings and now what?
Does it change anything?
Does it bring him back to life?
Does it make me feel any easier?
You and I both know the answer--nothing's gonna change.
Even in my dream, I knew the answer.
Perhaps it's not the sound of myself crying that woke me up, perhaps it's reality that woke me up--the reality that I lost him forever.
I opened my eyes only to see that I was surrounded by the darkness of the night.
I was hushed by the silence of the night which seems to tell me 'crying and shouting: forbidden.'
The moment I was awake, I was also awaken to the irony of dreams and reality--when I could be so genuinely expressive of my emotions in my dream while not having the courage to do the same in reality.
Human brain is such amazing thing.
In the midst of my confusion between dream and reality, and being consumed by all the powerful emotions, my brain could just pull out lyrics randomly with ease.
The lyrics adds to the irony, my confusion and sadness,
'Why live life from dream to dream and dread the day when dreaming ends?'
Love,
N
P.S. Today is the type of day when I couldn't leave my bed or my place.
Was supposed to be out to get something and for work out, but the thought 'maybe I will do that in just a moment' left me spent the entire day at home and screwed up all my plans for the day.
Day wasted.
How was Halloween, everyone?
I hope the hangover isn't that bad.
I didn't have plans for the night, so I guess that automatically means I picked 'trick' over 'treat'?!
Sure it was a trick when I spent the whole night in excruciating pain...
Anyway, I hope yours were much more pleasurable than mine.
Isn't it peculiar when people feast, drink and party on Halloween?
What exactly are they celebrating: life or death?
And why don't we have a festival to celebrate life--something like Easter but without the Christianity element?
Well, we need excuses to party and celebrate, that I understand.
When the title of this posts says 'mean girl', I didn't mean I was pretending to be one of the girls in the movie Mean Girls.
But this post has a lot to do with those type of girls depicted in the movie--girls who dress and act like sluts.
Halloween is such a peculiar festival.
As I grow up, I began to understand that Halloween is of particular importance to party girls and sluts.
You don't see guys putting that much of effort into dressing up.
Probably because they put most effort in hunting for girls, because on this particular day, some people get their wish granted--wearing the sluttiest outfits, the ones that they hide in the deepest corners of their closet and still getting tolerated.
Actually not just on Halloweens, think about those Christmas bunnies and Little Red Riding Hoods outfits!
Mean Girls the movie captured the essence of Halloween best, with the following quote:
'Halloween is when kids dress up in costumes and beg for candy. In girl world, Halloween is the one day in a year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything else about it.'
Right on the spot!
They could wear their skimpy, tasteless sluttish outfits and still being tolerated.
And if men get a little too friendly, too close or touchy-feely, girls can always blame the guys by screaming 'pervert!' while stomping the men's feet with her killer heels.
Killer heels.
What a name!
Not only meaning that the heels kill with their sexiness but they have this name for a practical reason--they are a girl's best weapon, whether it's for self-defence or pure revenge or just to hurt.
Imagine being stomped on your toe (or worse, more important body parts) with that tiny but sharp heels...OUCH!
To make the weapons even more lethal, shoes these days are much higher. And uglier, so they hurt your eyes too!
Yes, I said it, they are ugly as hell.
I really don't care if other girls like it, the most important thing is that shops shouldn't let ugly shoes dominate.
Do you have ANY idea how damn difficult is it to buy a decent, nice pair of heels now?!
Sometimes I look at some girls feeling amazed by the diversity of sub-species in human beings.
Sometimes, with just one stare at them, I want to be a sociologist/anthropologist/ biologist:
1) Just where do they get the courage and pride to wear such outfits and think that they look attractive?
2) What is beautiful about sea-urchin-or--spider-like fake lashes, coloured contact lens, excessive lace and heels that look like moveable stage?
3) Do their eyes see things the same way other people do? Or special species like them see things differently?
4) Who is responsible for this 'standard of beauty'? Just who the fuck is he/she/are they start this? Fashion police should hunt those people down. What a crime!
Sea urchin and spider on her eye
Spider heels. This is REALLY scary.
Being a woman doesn't make me understand other women's thoughts and minds any better.
Okay, guys, I can hear your 'Uh-huh! you see?' and I see your nodding heads.
Yes, sometimes I just don't understand...
I'm not against dressing up or wearing costumes. Dress codes is one of the things I love the most.
Whenever I decide to wear a costume, it's either all or nothing.
Most girl don't put enough effort dressing up---a pair of animal ears or a fur ball on your butt and you call THAT a costume?!
Step it up, girls!
Girls, if you are DYING to show as much skin as possible and have your body be seen by as many as people possible, why bother to think of an outfit or a character to pretend and spend money on outfits that are made of cheap plastic?
You could just grab an apple, some leaves and you are ready to go--you are Eve!
After all, there's not much difference when you have more than half of your boobs out, forcing a cleavage up to your neck and your shirt is too short to even cover your ass.
Seriously, Eve is a much better idea.
It's refreshing, bold, daring, simple and cost effective.
I could really understand why men can find some women scary and appalling.
Poor men...
Okay, enough with me bitching about the bitches and witches on Halloween.
Something much nicer to share with you.
I know it's a little too late for Halloween costume ideas, but this vid is JUST too good not to be shared.
Ellen pretending to be Sofia Vergara.
Sofia Vergara is one of my favourite actresses.
She is sexy and hot but the BEST part is that she is so funny. Every time she appears on Modern Family, I can't help but smile the moment I see her.
And once she starts talking, I just burst into laughter, not to mention that her lines are usually clever.
What a fantastic woman she is--sexy, attractive, fun-loving, enjoys dancing and funny!
And Ellen, she did a great job pretending to be Sofia.
She's not bad in a wig, makeup and that 'feminine' outfit, actually better than her usual short hair!
Dear readers, enjoy.
Hope Halloween was a nice treat to all of you, especially for the little ones.
Don't eat too much candies, or else you will have a big bum like Ellen! :)
'Handsome like a gent'--the first thing that came to my mind when my friend required us to wear costumes for her birthday.
I always always imagine if I were a man, I would automatically assume that one of the many must-do things as a man, would be to learn and master the art of wearing a suit perfectly (and of course other clothing as well).
There are of course a lot more items on my If-I-Were-A-Man list, but this is one of the many things: to dress well.
For guys, when in doubt, suit up.
Well-dressed men are rare.
They should be put on the 'list of endangered sub-species of human beings', if there is one.
(Okay, it is really obvious that I love making lists.)
Oh! And with a remark that says in bold--'HIGHLY PRECIOUS.'
Ok, my imagination is running a bit too wild but you see what I mean.
Whenever I see this picture below, I could only have 4 different reactions, I nod and exclaim:
1) So damn right!
2) So fucking true! (or without the f word)
3) Hell, yes!
4) Amen.
The question is: why don't men care about what they wear, while women seem to care about nothing except for what they wear?
Just generalization here, not stereotyping.
I think about this all the time and I am sincerely looking for inspiration or possible answers if any of my readers wanna share with me their thoughts.
Being well-dressed has nothing to do with wearing expensive designer clothes (though a thick wallet certainly helps).
It goes beyond wear suits, men could look very good even in very casual clothing.
It is all about the style; how they choose and carry items that fit them.
It is about the ability to allow people to have glimpses of him through his choice of clothing and accessories.
It is about how he mix-and-matches items to create different outfits and looks: the combination of colours and the witty mix of different fabrics, textures and patterns.
Love patterns and those checks!
Creating outfits, not to mention developing a personal style, certainly takes time, a bit of thinking/creativity, attention to details and some trial-and-error.
But not too difficult, right?
Or just that men don't care and don't bother to leave their 'nothing boxes'?
This might sound difficult and troublesome to those men who wanna leave their place just throwing on a clean (or least dirty) t-shirt and shorts.
But it is really less challenging than most men think (though I could never experience how men think).
My dear male readers, it'd be assuring and relieving to tell you that from a woman's perspective (just mine), being well-dressed simply means two things:
1) Pick and wear clothes that suit you, pay attention to details
2) Bare in mind the one goal: Look clean and neat.
That's it. Nothing fancy.
On one hand, I understand that most men don't care enough about what they wear.
On the other hand, sometimes women are not very good helpers in helping their men dress properly.
According to my observations, most women have shamefully little knowledge in menswear.
Take the example of suits, I guess most women (at least the ones I know) have little, if any, idea about different cuts of men's suits like American, British and European.
Not to mention their differences.
Speaking of that, I have to admit that I get them mixed up and get myself confused all the time that I have to check the references almost every time.
That's the point. See? We women know so little about what our guys are wearing!
One of the 'references' that I always check, about different types of collars and cuffs:
I think that might account for the fact that women don't spend enough time shopping with their men in the men's section--little knowledge and thus, lack of a good eye on men's fashion.
Well, but to be honest, most women simply lack the patience to enjoy shopping with their men.
But that's another problem, a much worse or fundamental one.
Anyway, I am CRAZY about men's fashion, esp preppy and classy styles and suits.
Take a look at my Tumblr and you will see plenty men's fashion pics. (Click here)
Somehow I think it is incredibly sexy for a woman to wear menswear-inspired clothes (Will explain this further in upcoming posts, please be patient.)
When I was thinking about who as my inspiration for my 'Handsome like a Gent' theme, I did have a few men in mind.
In the end, I came up with a Sherlock Holmes-or-Dr-Watson-inspired outfit. (The movie with Robert Downey Jr and Jude Law, not the TV series).
Houndstooth trousers, white shirt with elbow pads, a tie from my dad, a grey hat and a very pretty men's vest.
Houndstooth trousers, white shirt with elbow pads, a tie from my dad, a grey hat and a very pretty men's vest.
Dressed like a gent and had a great night out with my girls,
a hybrid of birthday party and Halloween costume party, wonderful! :)
From BCBG
Guys, I hope this post shows you that a woman could be interested and crazy about menswear which hopefully encourages you to start paying attention to what you wear (or motivate you to stay stylish).
Ladies, do give yourself little fashion challenges of rocking menswear-inspired outfits. It's great fun!
The best part? You can do this whenever you want, not just Halloween!
The reason why I bought the hat and the vest is that I REALLY think they are very nice.
I'd definitely wear them and incorporate them as a part of my wardrobe, not just costumes!
Ladies and gentlemen, wanna be handsome like a gent? :)
Love,
N
P.S. A lot more (actually a series of) upcoming posts on menswear inspiration for both guys and girls, stay tuned!
'I think I need a coffee,' I said to myself, dispassionately.
'Could I have a cold Vietnamese drip coffee first?' I said to the waiter before the food menu was in my hands.
I don't even need to look at my parents to know that they were looking at me.
Not just looking, but staring.
But how incredible parents they are--they want to ask but they won't let out a single word.
Probably because they know their daughter well--I will answer their questions before they ask.
Well, their eyes were asking me the question: why are you drinking coffee, my no-coffee daughter?
'I'm having a headache,' I answered, equally dispassionately.
Their eyes really couldn't lie, they continued to ask me 'why are you having a headache, my no-headache daughter?' without my parents opening their lips.
'Yea, I don't normal drink coffee and I don't get headache unless I have been crying like crazy or being sick.
But I'm having both of them today, a coffee and a headache. Let's just say...this is a special Sunday.'
Their eyes just kept shooting me questions: so are you sick or did you cry all night long?
Curious parents have curious children. Now I know where my curiosity is from.
'I'm not sick and I did not cry all night long. It is probably just a hangover from last night, drinking till late and sleeping in the morning,' I was still having a poker face.
Poker face...I don't know if I were feeling that bad that I couldn't care to smile or just that I was sending them the message 'I'm okay. I know you love me but no more questions.' with my facial expression.
I kept my head down, reading the menu...
Pho.
Oh yes, one of my comfort foods. I need one now.
I remember the days when I lost appetite and couldn't sleep.
Then the first thing I ate when I eat again was a simple shredded chicken pho.
And a raspberry sorbet which was sour enough to wake me up a bit, in a good and refreshing way.
It was only in June.
What month is it now, October?
How come it feels so far away already?
How come things changed so much already?
'Yes, a pho please. In hot soup. With limes and hot chili,' I ordered, before memories bring my mind away too far.
Headache, lost appetite, fatigue, nausea, slightly upset and feeling cold...
Sounds like it's a hangover. But why am I still feeling it now?
Even when I didn't drink!
Oops...I did. But I ONLY drank a beer last night!
By the way, that Yebisu all malt beer at the Japanese restaurant was more bitter than eating an actual bitter melon.
Anyway, this question in my mind is: Is this a hangover, worried and stressed or me being depressed?
Well, the Vietnamese coffee did helped me a bit.
It doesn't taste as good as the one I tried before but of all the things that were on my mind, I couldn't care less about the taste of that one coffee I had in that Vietnamese restaurant.
As long as it wakes me up and stops the headache, it has done its job.
Today I'm still feeling the symptoms so I started the day drinking a cup of lemon water.
Juice of half a lemon, no sugar, dilute with water. Gulp it down before anything.
I do this every now and then as some sort of juice detox so I'm used to it.
It doesn't taste bad at all.
Gonna do this all through the week. Hope it works.
The question remains: Hangover, stress or depressed?
Maybe all three together and magnifying each other.
I don't like the nasty cocktail of the three combined!
Have to gulp down more juice and water while keep hushing myself,
'it's okay. This too shall pass, this too shall pass...'
Recently I went to an interview, an easy one.
One of the questions goes more or less like this:
'To err is human, please tell us some of the mistakes that you have made in your life, how you feel and what you do in response to them. It can be mistakes you made when you were studying or working.'
They only wanted to know how I deal with crises and manage unfavorable circumstances at work.
Somehow this question came into my mind again, for a different reason.
You know what?
Making mistakes is perhaps not the worst---being one is.
Have you ever felt like you are a mistake?
No, I am not referring to an unexpected child.
I'm referring to that subjective feeling of which one has--the delicate mixture of being both inadequate and excess at the same time.
And also the guilt and self-blame that come along with it.
Sometimes, even knowing that I'm blessed and loved, I feel that life is a series of mistakes.
Worse, sometimes I feel like I am a mistake myself.
Feel like I shouldn't have appeared in certain people's lives.
Sometimes I imagine if people I know would be better-off without me.
What if my existence is a mistake by default?
Whether or not I'm a good person or a bad one is not relevant, it has nothing to do with me being helpful or not.
It doesn't even matter what I do or what I don't.
The simple fact of being at people's lives at the wrong timing can be a mistake by default already.
Pretty much like the idea of 'original sin', a concept which I detest.
Oh, I fucking hate that idiotic bullshit of original sin.
But, at the same time, I'm feeling almost exactly the same thing.
How ironic.
Sometimes I feel doomed and touching upon people's lives a mistake, for two reasons:
1) My action or inaction would turn into a mistake sooner or later.
2) My insignificance. My action or inaction would not change anything.
Sounds like that stupid hamster running inside the wheel.
1) Whether or not it runs on it doesn't matter
2) The spinning wheel is gonna spit it out sooner or later. The hamster is gonna fall, just a matter of time.
3) It doesn't matter how hard it tries or how fast it runs. It is always stuck there, on the very same spot.
Do the hamster not learn anything?
Do I not learn anything?
Why do I feel like I'm stuck at the same cycle and same sort of problems over and over again?
Around this time last year, I was saying, 'don't be afraid of being wrong. Enjoy making mistakes! Life would be boring if you spend your life only doing the right things.'
And today the opposite. Don't know if my thought or mindset has changed but at least how I currently feel
I don't expect myself to change the world, but at the same time I don't expect myself to be pressing/ a source of trouble.
So, tell me, what has changed: the situation or me?
Guess I should blame everything on myself, since I'm the one who said 'there is something wrong with the female brain.'
Well, at least there's one thing I am right about.
No one is to be blamed. Just me and my female brain.
Sorry, I'm just a woman.
Up to the moment when you are reading this, I am still not sure if I should write this critique on Brad Pitt & Chanel No. 5's new ad campaign.
First of all, I do not particularly like the brand Chanel.
Coco Chanel is a strong-willed and talented woman who I respect. Salute to the remarkable and inspiring Coco Chanel. But the fashion house that she founded is becoming more and more dull, always the same old stuffs are make a girl appear to be old and boring; quilted handbag, tweed jackets or suits, monochrome and fake pearls, etc.
Coco Chanel
And it seems to worsen, let's take a sneak peek at the 2013 S/S Collection, should we?
If there is a competition on ridiculous ugly and impractical fashion pieces, meet one of the winners!
Hula hoop bag from Chanel's 2013 Spring/Summer Collection.
I wonder who'd get this, even the smaller ones are ugly.
Second, I dislike Karl Lagerfeld.
While acknowledging the fact that he is internationally influential and talented, he is overrated. Like most old men, he constantly makes random yet unacceptably rude comments like calling Newsweek a 'shitty little paper', saying that Kate Middleton's sister Pippa has a terrible face and should only show her back etc. And it seems like he is eternally stuck with his complex over his age by dressing like a gothic teenager.
Even though I should be putting his picture here, I am not going to because that man is unbearable and I'm not sorry for saying that.
Third, Chanel No. 5 the fragrance does not appeal to me.
If one has to name the most famous women's fragrances in this century, Chanel No. 5 is sure to be on the list.
But if I am to name a fragrance that perhaps even my grandma wouldn't wear it, it is got to be the same Chanel No. 5 too.
When sex icon Marilyn Monroe was asked what she wore to bed, she declared 'a few drops of Chanel No.5', making the perfume very famous.
Okay, okay, I know all that history.
It is described as classic and how a woman should smell like.
Do I wanna smell like that? No, thanks.
Perhaps it is the fact that Chanel No. 5 was formulated in 1920s that makes the fragrance smells a bit...outdated?
Or the opposite--perhaps I'm not mature and feminine enough for it?
That I do not know.
I have never liked it since I first smelled it.
To be fair and responsible to what I write (even though this is just a personal blog), I tried it again lately. Both on paper and on skin.
Still, I do not like it.
For a few reasons:
1) It doesn't suit me nor my age. I imagine that it suits mature women more, probably my great grandmother if she is still alive. But my guess is that she would find it appalling too.
2) Complicated and intoxicatingly overpowering. Yes, intoxicatingly.
Having 80 different ingredients in one single fragrance formula sounds a bit too much, while I have to admit that I do not know the usual average number.
In general, I am more into floral scents. Spicy tones? I can handle that too.
But Chanel No. 5? It smells like a mixture of everything pungent, so overpowering that it literally gives me a headache.
Up to this point, I guess I've made it clear that Chanel No. 5 cannot make it to my fragrance shelf.
So, why am I writing this post when I have so many reasons not to?
The mere fact that this is the very first time that Chanel is using a man to speak for its fragrance.
First male face fronting for this ad campaign,
Brad Pitt, one of the world's sexiest men (which I humbly disagree even though his sexiness is actually none of my business), one of world's most famous fragrances, famous director...this combination sounds very fail-proofed.
To be honest, I was having some expectations for the new ad.
I was curious and imagining what it would be like.
Despite this seemingly fail-proofed combination, let's say it turned into a recipe for disaster.
Lesson learnt: One only gets disappointed when having too high expectations.
He looks much better in this picture...
and this picture.
This ad campaign has brought Brad Pitt US$7 mil.
Quite some easy money, considering his 'labour' in this 30-second video.
Grey-ish dull, inconsistent-lit room (perhaps to match with the line 'the world turns and we turn with it'?), Brad Pitt's fake and exaggerating pronunciations, his empty and focus-less eyes that kept looking here and there, etc.
I watched the video for half a dozen times, NOT because I like it but because I can't believe how bad it is.
The first 2 times went past very quickly because I was jaw dropped, not amused nor amazed, but thinking, 'what?! Seriously?! This is it?!'
The next few times, my response was 'this is unbelievable, they are shameless in making this and actually releasing it!'
The last time and my final comment was, 'poor Brad Pitt...This vid might boost publicity as if he is not popular enough. But, what an eternal flaw to his career!'
The ad that disappointed me
Come on! Man, woman and fragrance. What else?
It shouldn't be too difficult to come up with something nicer that what the vid is.
Any lame love story would have been much better than this 'my luck, my fate' thing.
Shouldn't it be sensuous?
Shouldn't it appeal to our senses?
Shouldn't it be seductive, alluring, teasing and tempting?
Shouldn't it be about the art of attraction without using a single word?
Shouldn't it be like the endless battle of seduction and love between the sexes?
Shouldn't it be like a sexy tango, a tender lingering touch, a passionate kiss, the stare before the kiss, a flirtatious but meaningful and wise conversation or an exciting romantic adventure?
Seriously, what else?
Dear readers, if you were to direct an ad campaign for any fragrance, what would it be like? What is/are your favourite fragrance(s) for men or for women?
Whatever your preferences are, just one rule: always smell nice. :)
As the weather cools and I recently dig out my maxi dresses, I have been wearing my plain, soft and flow-y maxi dresses around the house.
No, I don't wear them all year round, this is just a part of my start-of-autumn madness.
I have been wearing them so often these days that my mum can't help but asked me a question, 'are you becoming a bohemian?'
I didn't expect my mum asking this. But before I even think carefully to answer with a yes or no, I heard my own response, 'I wish, but I'm just a bohemian at home.'
Being a wild child at heart, the idea of being an urban bourgeoisie bohemian is truly tempting.
Yea, 'god knows what an urban bourgeoisie bohemian is!' I can hear that.
I invented that word to represent my ideal bohemianism.
My ideal bohemian is carefree, unconventional, artistic, spontaneous, unearthly and sees love (any type of love) bigger than anything.
But no casual sex, no voluntary poverty and most definitely no lack of concern for personal hygiene.
Soon after my mum's comment on my loungewear, I came across a bohemian style collection which I showed to her and said, 'now THAT'S what I call a bohemian at home!'
So, here it is, Novella Royale's 2012 Fall lookbook.
Not a big fan of floral prints because it's too cute and girly for me, but I adore soft and delicate lace!
Soft chiffon tops
Crotchet lace top
Drooling over this pair of lace pants! I WANT IT!
Oh, I want it!
Not a big fan of floral prints because it's too cute and girly for me, but I adore soft and delicate lace!
Dear readers, what do you wear at home?
Have you ever imagine living like a carefree bohemian?
If, just if, you can have any wild animal on earth as pet, what would you choose?
Being a wild child, I have a hard time answering my own imaginary question--it is simply too difficult to limit my answer to one!
But I can be very sure to tell you that among all the wildlife animals, I'd love to have a fawn or a deer.
I know, I know.
Living in a semi-tropical city where living space for human is already scarce and pricey, having a pet fawn is not only expensive but also a ridiculously selfish and inhumane act.
But this is just an imagination.
Yes, I want a fawn, please.
My love for this graceful animal started since I was small.
Their round, dark, innocent and watery eyes.
Their slender long legs.
The way they jump--so effortlessly, so swiftly.
The colour of their fur, and the white spots.
The antlers male deers have, those majestic antlers and their beautiful angles.
Their gentleness, timidness and shyness.
Their quiet and gentle nature.
Their grace.
I remember watching Bambi when I was very small.
Thanks to Bambi, I came to getting the idea that fawns have spots as camouflage to help them hide and keep them safe.
Knowing that I was also very small and my mum called me a baby, I thought, 'maybe I have spots on my back too, just that I couldn't see them!'
I remember lying among cushions on the sofa, thinking that I could blend in and my mum couldn't see me.
Of course, she found me with ease and asked what I was doing.
I pointed at Bambi.
Wasn't I silly?
Somehow this personal anecdote of mine always makes me wonder if my future baby would do the same.
Those majestic horns
Another memory about deers happened on one of my trips to Japan. Also when I was a small kid.
It was the first time that I saw deers. Almost a dozen of them.
It was somewhere near a shrine, a rather quiet and unusual sightseeing spot.
It was a cold winter and my hands were cold even under the gloves.
My parents bought a few grilled/ roasted sweet potatoes from the stalls nearby, as snacks and also to warm our hands.
Those deers then slowly appear before us--they knew we are gonna share.
They are larger and taller than I was.
I didn't know what to do except standing close to my parents.
But god! Those animals are beautiful.
They moved and walked so gracefully, came before us and did something very unexpected--they bowed.
Apparently these animals learned this trick to get food.
But me as a little girl, fascinated by their grace and gentleness, thought they are trying to be friends with us.
My mum encouraged me to feed a smaller deer with a small piece of sweet potato put on my palm.
I did.
The doe walked near. Her eyes were dark but bright and round.
She bowed, ate the potato and licked my fingers.
I still remember vividly that the way she licked my fingers--gently, as if she was saying 'thank you'.
Maybe my fascination with deers has a lot to do with how I innocently perceived them in my childhood.
But the thing is, I grow up still fascinated
Deer becomes one of the things that I draw.
I have two deer figures as decorations in my bedroom, bought from FrancFranc.
Sometimes I search for information about this lovely animal, learning that they make very loving pets.
I found out that an iconic lady kept a pet fawn which would accompany her on her grocery trips, slept by her side, followed her around and considered her the mother.
This iconic lady was equally graceful and cute.
She was Audrey Hepburn. And the fawn was named Pippin.
I also found out a beautiful artwork, by Peregrine Honig, called the Twin Fawns and the sad story behind them. (Peregrine Honig's website, click here)
The Twin Fawns
These sleeping beauties look as if they are peacefully and quietly sound asleep.
Their closeness, the way they were positioned--nose-to-nose.
They are beautiful; gentle, tender, sweet.
They look so fragile.
But the sad thing is: they were never born.
The mother doe was dead and her body was by the side of a road.
Someone found her and wanted to dispose her body properly. Then they found out she was pregnant.
Having twins is a rare thing for deers.
Amazed by their beauty and rarity, the full-grown fawns were taken out and preserved.
A say story and a beautiful work of art, nature's beautiful work of art.
So, readers, I picked fawn to be my imaginary dream pet.
Oh dear (or deer), what is yours?
Sometimes I wonder, how many guys are there among my readers?
I suppose not many.
If you belong to the minority and like fashion, gentleman, this post is dedicated to you.
Gentlemen, meet Club Monaco's first men's only pop-up store in Hong Kong.
As it is a pop-up store, it is open from now to June 2013.
The cute little green shop, surrounded by equally cute boutiques and coffeehouses, is located in the artsy part of Wanchai.
Apart from Club Monaco's own line, it also carries other brands that won't fail to charm you.
Though it targets male customers, it wins my heart with its style.
The style is somewhat between Americana and Preppy.
Casual but with a hint of preppy-ness, agree?
Whatever that style is, it is such a delight.
For a woman's point of view, it is a lot better than the typical style, if there is any, of menswear in this city.
Baggy pants, men's leggings/tights, ridiculous sneakers, a Gucci/LV bag...
Don't even let me start listing. *bitchily rolling my eyes*
I already spotted some lovely items that make me say, 'if I were a man, I'm gonna get this!'
Let's see if you can spot anything that delights you.
I see some cute ties over there.
Sweaters with elbow pads! And polka dot socks!
The grey tie and the tartan one next to it, the green tartan one. And shirts in red checks.
More ties.
Unfortunately, or I should say fortunately, I am not a man. Or else I would still break my bank account.
But still, I could get a few accessories (and/or shirts!) that I adore.
Sunnies make me happy.
One thing to note is that this glass box itself is a vintage of over a hundred years!
Um...cute flask
Very adorable hangers. If I could only get 5 items from the shop, they are definitely on my keep list!
Ladies, isn't this shop a nice new spot to go shopping with/for your man?
Shopping with your man doesn't have to be boring or unpleasant, or basically JUST you choosing items for him and sending him to the fitting room.
As much as some of us get annoyed shopping with their men, I have to be honest and fair--guys don't get enough appreciation when they accompany us on our countless shopping trips!!
Yes, you know 'countless' is the right word for your shopping habit.
He has been patient and sweet all the time.
So, time for him to have fun shopping, right?
