Paradoxically Perfect

Venus

2011-09-06T00:24:00.002+08:00

"Come away with me,"

From her bosom extended an arm that tapered into a wrist, imploded into an upturned palm that blushed the slightest tinge of rosy pink.

And he did.

Silly Love Songs

2011-06-28T07:10:00.004+08:00

She sits, but she is not stationery. She is hurdling forward at breakneck speed, alongside an endless string of evergreen meadows, glassy eyes cattle slowly expanding and then bursting out of sight. She lifts her willowy wrists, layered with ratty thin string bracelets and pushes a piece of her dark hair away from her eyes. She sees a lake, spilling out from underneath a red and yellow brick house, she sees an army of temples, all conflicting in their traditions and rituals but unified by the same god. She inches towards the glass, her lips just almost resting against the cool surface.

She thinks to herself, like everything that passes before her eyes, everything is transient and nothing is forever.

What I Want to Do With My Life...

2011-02-11T16:09:00.006+08:00

summed up in UNIF Clothing's SS11 Campaign.

Why wasn't I born a gypsy?

Almost Famous

2010-11-15T01:31:00.003+08:00

Girls like her, they're the wallflowers of the industry. Floating about the crowd like a faceless figure, sliding in between the shadows of high society. Like does caught in headlights, their wide eyes constantly spinning within their tiny skulls trying to take in their surroundings, eager to impress and desperate for attention.

Unlike her counterparts, she shrouds herself in a cloud of indifference. Her clumsily polished scarlet nails wrapped loosely around a damp champagne glass that she lifts ever so often to her lips, which are rouged to match the color of her nails. She does not wear as much drugstore make-up as the others, her skin is tanned a light amber brown. She passes on last season's couture, or the cheap ebay equivalents, instead her wardrobe is a mishmash of ill-fitting flea market pieces that cling haphazardly to her tiny frame. She wears minimal jewelry, save for a couple of chunky silver rings she bought off a bum in San Francisco.

She sits there misty-eyes, dissolving into her surroundings. Her nonchalance lifts for a moment, when from the corner of her eye she watches as he enters the crowd. He trudges through the frenzy of flung-open arms, the clouds of air kisses, like bullets, that whiz pass his cheek. As he moves gracefully from one social circle to another, he passes the girl. Their eyes meet for a split second and he gives her a smile of acknowledgment. She returns an awkward wave, not without first spilling half her drink down the front of her shirt. With a sympathetic chuckle he goes back on his rounds.

"Call me if you need a rescue, we live in the same city"

"I think I live in a different world"

2010-10-12T11:18:00.001+08:00

There is no need to drag anyone else down the rabbit hole.

Her Eyes, Her Eyes

2010-09-19T03:03:00.002+08:00

Oh her eyes, her eyes,
Make the stars look like they're not shining
Her hair, her hair
Falls perfectly without her trying
She's so beautiful and I tell her everyday

The city skyline glossed past her windows, she started to choke up.

When I see your face
There's not a thing that I would change
Cause you're amazing
Just the way you are.

Her Eyes

2010-09-14T15:44:00.001+08:00

Just the both of them against a pitch black sky with neon kites swarming and heaven above them.

Last Night I Fell in Love Without You

2010-09-08T10:47:00.001+08:00

I think last night was a friendly reminder of what real love should feel like and that I need to keep searching for just that.

Love the Way You Lie

2010-09-04T11:17:00.002+08:00

She still feels his fingers around her throat, the repetitive thud of the back of her skull against the plaster, the little specks of spit pelleting her and the overwhelming fumes of alcohol from his breath as he interrogated her mercilessly. How he grabbed her wrists and dragged her around like a rag doll, completely helpless and utterly unsound. She remembers the cries in her head as she screamed soundlessly, "What did I do?" over and over again. Every detail is crisp in her mind, and the next day when the storm settled and he roused from his drunken slumber. "You tried to break up with me." And that justified everything.

Dear God

2010-07-01T06:10:00.000+08:00

Please just let me go home. I just want out now.

Forget Me Not

2010-06-20T02:34:00.002+08:00

And I'm so pissed at myself because I wanted to get away but here I am 9000 miles away from home still having to deal with it.

A part of me wishes was the old me, who couldn't give a flying fuck.

And I miss you gough.

She Got Out of Town

2010-06-06T09:06:00.000+08:00

On a railway New York bound.

Rule of Thumb

2010-04-20T14:15:00.002+08:00

The day you woke up late, threw on a ratty old outfit, forgoed make-up and a blowdry and sound like Rosie O'Donnell because of your sore throat will be the day you run into your head editor buying coffee.

Your Name in Lights

2010-04-14T13:48:00.000+08:00

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you.

The Stars are Dead

2010-04-08T15:56:00.003+08:00

As usual there are boys. Boys in different colors, fat boys, skinny boys, lanky boys, buff boys, boys with long fringes, boys who carry pocket squares, boys who wear Dolce, boys who wear second-hand, sad boys, happy boys.

But there's only one boy for me.

The fat one.

(:

Blame it on the Goose

2010-04-05T01:46:00.002+08:00

When I say, "I'm almost done with my essay" what I really mean is I stopped caring about half an hour ago.

Also I hit on hot girls and gay men a lot when I'm drunk.

Trains and Planes

2010-04-01T14:57:00.000+08:00

I think the key would be to get through the next few weeks as painlessly as possible, in particular next week. I have nothing to celebrate this year, and everything to mourn. It would have been almost 8 months by now.

Close my eyes, my mouth and my ears and wake up to the Big Apple.

July August September

2010-03-29T22:07:00.007+08:00

So working at August Man is working me to the bone.

I have to go to high-end stores and pick out anything I want for free.

Be surrounded by designer cars of every shape and size.

And constantly watch gorgeous flawless male models strip down in front of me while I offer to "hold their clothes".

And yes. It is as difficult as it looks.

Transitions

2010-03-29T21:52:00.002+08:00

And it's done. I'm leaving.

I'm happy for you, there are things you have to do. And if you can look back one day and think you wouldn't have done things any other way then I'm fine with it.

Breakfast at Tiffany's

2010-03-28T19:40:00.001+08:00

You probably think I'm sad and pathetic for still not being able to completely get over what I went through and the truth is I probably am. Sad and pathetic that is.

Some Days

2010-03-26T02:06:00.002+08:00

It's discouraging when you don't really know how a proper exercise regime really works.

And as much as my friends try to convince me that the trainers are just "trying to hit on you" when they try to correct what you're doing I don't think "What the hell are you doing!" is even remotely a pick-up line.

Dated

2010-03-16T15:18:00.002+08:00

"When you starve yourself skinny it's a huge turn off for him."

"Well you must be a huge motherfucking turn on then."

I think when my friends say I'm funnier when I drunk what they're really insinuating is meaner.

Ink

2010-03-15T10:50:00.004+08:00

A.k.a Fake it till you Make it

My goal is to star in a reality TV show before the end of this year, I'm now gravitating between the Amazing Race Asia and Running in Heels.

Maybe Jershey Shore Asian-American Edition. Chinks and chinkas. You know, with like rebonded hair, fake eyelashes, coloured contacts and all.

We'll sit around, drink bubble tea and sing KTV.

Last Night

2010-03-14T12:25:00.002+08:00

Last night was a night of firsts:

First time I tried the Butter long island iced tea.

First time I got shitfaced smashed in Butter.

First time I wore my python 6 inch strappy sandals.

First time I went clubbing with a colleague.

First time I threw up on the aforementioned pair of shoes in front of the aforementioned colleague.

Yup.

Where I come from, we call it an accomplished night out.

Prove Me Wrong

2010-03-13T00:15:00.000+08:00

Because I'm fucking insecure and fucking afraid and all I need is that bit of constant reassurance before I start blowing up everything in my head.

The Hobo and the Pearls

2010-03-10T14:35:00.004+08:00

The day's outfit: Distressed denim bermudas, sheer navy blue tank knotted at the hips, ballet flats and a shitload of pearls.

The downside to working in publishing in our fair nation is the high chance of your office being situated in Braddell. And as much as you could disregard the awkward neighbourhood stares, the blazing heat and still attempt to somewhat dress up, it is always demoralising when the yong tau foo lady gestures to your neck and asks if you're okay.

Today I'm gonna be up to the wee hours at a photoshoot for August's top 24 successful personalities. Someone once asked me howI manage to balance work, school and still gym and conduct somewhat of a social life. It's easy, when you only give a half-fuck about both.

And i'm ridonkulously poor right now. Fuck haiti. Help me.

Alexa

2010-03-08T09:15:00.002+08:00

So apparently I have a very vague concept of what a running shoe should look like because after the sixth time I picked up a deigner collaboration sneaker (rib-caged Alexander McQueens for Puma, God Bless His Soul) my Dad got exasperated and decided that I should stick with my current gym shoes which are high cut maroon Nike dunks.
So money was then channelled into something much more practical- cue 6 inch Steve Madden platform sandals.

In other news, I look absolutely banging today because I am wearing those forementioned sandals with a men's suit.

In other other news my family doesn't care that I'm moving away because I broke the news over dinner at this schmancy Japanese sushi bar and they didn't even blink. The questions that ensued was "How much money do you need?" "Can I move into your room?" (Brother) and "What fish is Maguro again?' in that order respectively.

The Shell

2010-03-07T02:37:00.003+08:00

You used to be this beautiful perfect flawless thing that I loved so much. I wanted to wear you around my neck like a gold locket, around my finger like a platinum wedding band. You were like one of those shells I picked up when I went to Phuket as a kid, the one that I scoured the shore for hours and hours until I found, perfect in every way, not a chip nor a crack. I put a wad of blutack on it and glued it to my headboard so I could fall asleep beneath it every night. I wanted to protect you, to hide you and take you away from anything that hurt you, reciprocating your goofy grins. You used to have this aura around you that glimmered and sparkled such that even from miles and miles away behind the arrival hall glass I would spot you amongst the sea of heads.

Now I'm about to make one of the biggest decisions of my life, and I really want to talk to you but I know you're gonna be too drunk to hear what I'm saying.

Everytime I See You Falling

2010-03-05T13:12:00.002+08:00

I get down on my knees and pray
I'm waiting for that final moment
You say the words that I can't say

Veather in Singapour- A million degrees in the shade, and I happen to be wearing a heavily lined and padded jacket that CANNOT be taken off lest outfit should look sloppy. I'm so exhausted I could collaspse, spent a dollar on a phonecall that barely lasted a minute and I'm going to Ann Siang-fucking-hill later to return stuff for the office.

If I become a deejay I'm gonna be called djFuckmylife.

Anais and Falling in Love

2010-03-02T21:50:00.003+08:00

There are things one reads that make you aware that you have lived nothing, felt nothing, experienced nothing up to that time. I see now that most of what happened to me was clinical, anatomical. Here were the sexes touching, mingling, but without any sparks, wilderness, sensation.
How can I attain this? How can I begin to feel- to feel?
I want to fall in love in such a way that the mere sight of a man, even a block away from me, will shake and pierce me, will weaken me, and make me tremble and soften and melt between the legs.
That is how I want to fall in love.

- "Delta of Venus" by Anais Nin

I've always had the impression from essays that Anais was a strong advocate of neo-feminism, but really, halfway through her book, she just seems really horny.

I'd hardly consider myself sentimental. I don't take photos, I don't keep souvenirs, I have an innate tendency to rip wrapping paper with vigor. Also I am a huge advocate of store exchange policies. Sentimentality is for the weak. My mom thinks I'm weak all the time but then again she's a bitch.

All my life I've given up on stuff- ballet, painting, tennis, relationships, academics and the list goes on. For the first time I'm going to fight my instinct, stand by my man and keep optimistic for the both of us. Maybe one day he'll wake up and miss the smell of half-cooked instant-mix chocolate chip pancakes, the sound of me singing off-key to songs that I made up in my head, the sight of crumpled scribbled notes hastily shoved into his pockets.

Maybe then.

Tiles

2010-03-02T07:38:00.003+08:00

And her eyes were welded shut from the constant wetting and drying over the five hour journey, her hands trembled, her lip cracked. And the sour note at the back of her throat told her there was nothing she could do.

She had exhausted her financial, physical and mental capacity and this was it.

Blur

2010-03-01T03:14:00.002+08:00

From the sky the earth looked like the belly of a beast-
Dark and foreboding, you couldn't tell where the water ended,
Where the land begun.

Hello Lover

2010-02-22T18:44:00.001+08:00

I have a new laptop/ netbook!

My Brain Hurts

2010-02-19T16:48:00.000+08:00

From too much cyber-loafing. I paid fifteen dollars to come to work and damn right I'm gonna make my money worth my while.

Lindsey (Not the Hot Mess)

2010-02-18T17:27:00.003+08:00

I was browsing through Marc Jacobs Fall Winter 2010 when I was stoppped short in my tracks by the third runway model:

I was absolutely captivated, I had to google her. And lo and behold:

That was where I've seen her before! Just a couple of days back I was at Paragon, shivering in my gym clothes waiting for the rain to stop outside Miu Miu. I was absolutely transfixed by their latest campaign model, her glassy eyes accentuated by twiggy-esque painted bottom lashes and partially cracked full pouty lips that exposed a slight tooth gap. Turns out this young lady is fifteen year old Lindsey Wixson. Certainly anticipating seeing more of her.

Bondage

2010-02-17T00:36:00.002+08:00

Fashion week cometh.

And Herve Leger never fails to take by breath away.

Footwear is disappointing though. Definitely been done before.

Faith

2010-02-17T00:02:00.000+08:00

And the belief that maybe, just maybe, I might be more than just sex.

CNY

2010-02-11T22:40:00.002+08:00

What I would ideally wear for Chinese New Year:
What i have:

Meahhh

Who Needs Sex?

2010-02-11T10:16:00.001+08:00

It's FASHION WEEK!

Post-its

2010-02-10T23:30:00.000+08:00

"You single?"
"No, I'm seeing someone."
"Well, if you were,"
He pauses and leans forward, brushing a strand of hair off my cheek.

"The boys around you must be blind."

He walks away and I think the whole office just heard me hold my breath.

The First Step

2010-02-09T13:47:00.000+08:00

It took me thirty two minutes this morning to polish off a sandwich that consisted of two slices of whole wheat bread and a sliver of sausage. After which my body erupted into a full-blown fever.
It's getting harder and harder for me to tell myself everyday that I'm gonna be fine.

I Hope You Dance

2010-02-08T16:55:00.002+08:00

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance

2010-02-04T23:00:00.000+08:00

My BMI has finally hit 16, fabulous Kate Moss 16 and this is supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

And I guess it is.

Carried Away

2010-02-03T00:08:00.000+08:00

"I'm looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love.

And I don't think that love is here.

In this expensive suite.

In this lovely hotel.

In Paris."

- Carrie Bradshaw

The Eye of the Beholder

2010-01-30T21:59:00.002+08:00

I Can't Hear You

2010-01-28T23:40:00.000+08:00

Lullaby

2010-01-26T18:10:00.000+08:00

It's easier at night, when the lights are dim and the mind is dull.
She caresses her pillow, rocking it slowly and whispering.
"And there was the time we stood at The Peak, and the city lights of Hong Kong swarmed at our feet, like multi-colored fireflies..."
In her mind she hears the soft ebbing of a baby's breath, cresting and falling. Finally she falls asleep, slipping into her dream like a warm bath, dreading the dawn when she would wake up and she would be alone once again.

Strapped

2010-01-25T05:06:00.001+08:00

After all that has happened, I desperately needed money and I found a way to get money and there's nothing wrong with that.

Young Girl

2010-01-22T17:24:00.001+08:00

It doesn't matter how difficult things are, or what you're going through. No one really cares.

It's just not ladylike if a girl keeps falling and can't get back on her feet.

Vertigo

2010-01-18T20:10:00.004+08:00

"Several hours after her decision she fell in the street and injured her knee. She began to teeter as she walked, fell almost daily, bumped into things or, at the very least, dropped objects.
She was in the grip of an insuperable longing to fall. She lived in a constant state of vertigo.
'Pick me up', is the message of a person who keeps falling. Tomas kept picking her up, patiently."
- Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Prologue

2010-01-18T17:10:00.001+08:00

Our protagonist is in a room, the walls are white-washed, there is no window but there are curtains, dull green brocade curtains, or maybe they aren't curtains, maybe they're moss, thriving on the humid stagnancy of the air. Then again maybe there is a window, a window that's never been opened so much so that its latches are welded shut by a coating of red rust. Then again does it really matter if there is or isn't a window? Does it matter whether the walls are bare or covered in cheap floral wallpaper? Or maybe there are no walls to begin with. Yes, maybe our protagonist is atop a hill, shrouded in blue grey mist such that she cannot see beyond the cuticles of her fingertips. There is no window in this scenario, for there is no wall for the window to reside in. But does the absence of the wall write off the existence of the window? For maybe the window resides quietly in limbo, waiting to be called into the narration? But I digress, essentially the story revolves around the protagonist and the disembodied voices in her head.
You see, nothing really matters.

JFK

2010-01-08T02:48:00.004+08:00

It's 11.47pm at JFK. No one notices her.
She's shabbily dressed, a large worn navy cable-knit sweater pulled over cotton leggings tucked into shin length leather boots. She struggles a little, pulling a family-sized Samsonite that almost the same size as her tiny frame. She drags her luggage to a set of plastic chairs and goes through the motion of releasing all the padlocks before the bag finally opens. Inside it's a mess, plastic bottles strewn among layers of chiffon, silk, faux fur, in the corner a handful of cream colored pearls nests quietly amongst a collection of tainted vintage brooches. She dips her maroon lacquered nails into the mess, pushing aside a lace la perla bra and a volume of Nietzche, and carefully extracts a couple of crumpled dollar bills. She zips up the bag and slowly makes her way outside.
The winds nips at her cheeks which are already flushed from one too many flutes of champagne on the plane. She hugs the suitcase close to her body, her only worldly possessions emanating a pleasant warmth. The streets are bare, to her right a homeless man eats a roll with one hand and smokes a cigarette with the other. His motions are swift and mechanical as his fingers dart in and out of his face and after a while he is smoking the roll and eating the cigarette. A man in a suit bustles past him, he is speaking furiously in Italian on his cell while gesturing angrily at the imaginary offender standing in front of him. The girl takes it all in.
She inches precariously to the sidewalk and flags down her first yellow cab.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

2010-01-02T16:11:00.003+08:00

She floated on the balls of her heels, her crimson toenails scraping lightly against the unpolished marble and she floated down the hallway. A heather grey robe hung loosely from her frame fastened against her tiny waist. Like a geisha in a terry cloth kimono, her face washed over pale as a slate, her lips stuck out, scarlett against the artic backdrop as if it had been painted on her face by a steady skilled hand. She leaned over the counter and picked a chip off of the porcelain platter and brought it to her lips. The salinity instantly hit the back of her throat and stirred her gag reflex, she reached for water and tried to wash it down. But instead it incited a horrible fit coughing and she propped herself against the sink and waited for the pain to subside.

According to You

2010-01-02T04:53:00.002+08:00

He wants to put her away in a beautiful box and hide her away from the world and everything that hurt her.
And as he watched her from afar, her eyes glimmering wet, he closed his and imagined for a second how pretty she might look if only she could smile.

Epilogue

2009-12-27T22:35:00.002+08:00

Once upon a time, there was a very beautiful girl who lived in a magnificent castle and everyone loved her.

The end.

Xmas

2009-12-27T12:28:00.002+08:00

Christmas was supposed to be:
Me waking up hungover from a crazy christmas eve party, putting on a pretty dress and sneaking over to his house in the morning to surprise him with a home cooked (pre-ordered) christmas turkey breakfast. Then I would say
"I know we weren't supposed to exchange gifts this year but I have a surprise for you."
And he would be all mock angry and go
"You're doing one of those things!"
And I would smile and pull out a brown envelop with a ribbon around it, holding my breath as he unwrapped it- a photocopy of my application to uwa that I had made out after the last time I returned from Perth. His jaw would drop.
"Are you serious?"
And I would nod my head. "I promised to take you away didn't I?"
And everything would be perfect.

2009-12-25T23:28:00.001+08:00

You know you're off the deep end when you've spent the past week sleeping on the floor of your parents bedroom.

No One Reads This Blog

2009-12-22T10:44:00.003+08:00

Might there be a possibility that instead of being an evil attention-seeking manipulative bitch that I really just am at the end of my rope here.

I kept everything to myself and everyone knew I was getting sick so there were all these awful rumors that were going around. All my friends had no idea what was going on and they were worried sick, so I decided to tell them the truth. And they appreciated it, and they know that it's not accusatory or vindictive or anything.

It's just me trying to piece my life together again.

Breaking Point

2009-12-14T20:13:00.001+08:00

Why do I still protect you?

I must have been a shit person for you to put me through all I went through.

Fly

2009-12-10T11:35:00.002+08:00

The horizon was dotted with blinking lights, like a swarm or fireflies hovering in the distance. The winds around her billowed, teasing at her blouse, drawing her forward. She rocked gently on her toes, forward and backward, forward and backward, sidewalk and railing, sidewalk and railing. She could have sworn there was music playing in the distance, a symphony orchestra but one where every member had kinda lost their gusto, as if they've been playing a marathon and are just about ready to give up.
She was waiting for her cue, there wasn't one. She waited and waited, standing there for what seemed like an hour.
And then the music stopped.
She spread her arms embracing the world below, and tilted herself forward for the last time. her vision blurred, it felt like she was running, running faster and faster.
In her mind there wasn't a sickening splat, there weren't hysterical screams, in her mind, the music played again, loud as if she was the only one standing in the front of the concert hall looking up in awe. It was an explosion of trumpets, violins, horns, drums and every instrument possible and for the first time in a very long time
The girl smiled.

Say hello to forever.

Rest In Peace

2009-12-09T13:34:00.001+08:00

I wish you bluebirds in the spring

To give your heart a song to sing

And then a kiss, but more than this

I wish you love

And in July a lemonade

To cool you in some leafy glade

I wish you health

And more than wealth

I wish you love

My breaking heart and I agree

That you and I could never be

So with my best

My very best

I set you free

I wish you shelter from the storm

A cozy fire to keep you warm

But most of all when snowflakes fall

I wish you love

R.I.P
Leigh/ Lee
December 2009

New BMI

2009-12-08T20:26:00.000+08:00

Height: 165cm
Weight: 48.5kg

BMI: 17.8

Sylvia And I

2009-12-07T19:24:00.004+08:00

Sylvia and I.
Two peas in a pod.
Daul and I.
Equally distraught.
Virginia and I.
Held our breath.

Myself and I.
Together till death.

No Time

2009-12-02T00:28:00.000+08:00

And a massive box was brought out because it was due procedure. And a million colors were thrown into that box, of cloth and paper and shiny precious metals, for there things were to be left on the porch and discarded at dawn.

that's all folks

2009-11-30T00:59:00.000+08:00

Joie

2009-11-25T14:26:00.002+08:00

Le prima ballerina assoluta, that's what they called her. And the people came out from miles and miles to see her, the queues outside the theater snaked like a monstrous serpent slithering into it's mound. It was like every other night, the men were stuffed in suits so tight it made them red in the face, so they compensated their pain by making it even worse for their women, corsets so tight it crushed the respiratory system, wigs so heavily ornamented in pushed their chins into their bosoms, not that any of them objected, they would wear a guillotine around their necks if only to get noticed.
She was in her dressing room, the glow from the light bulbs illuminating her porcelain skin, her almond eyes. Her small little frame curled up upon a velvet stool with a cigarette perched on the edge of her rosebud lips. They came to call her like they always did, "Mademoiselle...", a bow and an escorting hand, nothing like when she first started out and they treated her like a show pony, screaming and pulling at her arms until she was sure they must have dislocated.
She stubbed out her cigarette and rose from her seat, her tutu cascaded around her hips in a shower of silk chiffon, walking towards the monster that was her stage. And indeed it was a monstrosity, with it's gold gilded floors and awnings, a massive chandelier hung ominously from the ceiling, all around the stage was lined with ridiculously opulent yet tacky ornaments, a marble statue here, a stuffed tiger there. It looked like an animal enclosure, where everything was tailored to make the inhabitants feel like they were in their natural environment, in this case it was the audience's. She took her place center stage and listened to the drawing of the velvet curtains, listened to the roar of the audience like a beast stirring to life.

Le spectacle doit continuer.

Say Hi to Forever

2009-11-23T12:19:00.006+08:00

The blogpost title of Daul Kim's last and final post.

Rest in peace, it must have been so hard to be so beautiful.

Bad Romance

2009-11-19T03:00:00.003+08:00

I want your love and I want your revenge.

Kermione sheer top + Topshop bandage skirt + thrifted sheer footless tights =
Trying to imitate the American Apparel Nylon Spandex Micro-Mesh dress
(not for work) ((not that any of you bums work anyways)).

Whispers

2009-11-09T00:11:00.004+08:00

And she holds her breath every time she walks into a room, the sensations akin to plunging into a bath of ice, numbing, tingling the awkward stares that snap away as she focuses, the tension around her billows and melts as she pans across the room. No chair she rests upon is high enough, for people still crane forward like a tide engulfs a seaside village. The motion of flicking a hair piece aside causes a typhoon on the other corner of the room. She sits solidified, like a porcelain doll with glassy eyes and limbs stiff and glued at the hinges, like a massive egg teetering upon server and everyone in the room is waiting for her to crack.

We Will Get Through the Night

2009-11-05T17:12:00.005+08:00

Things that will get me through this week:

Toffee Nut Latte

20071128_0656.jpg and 15835_169673126700_675891700_3302334_7338430_n.jpg respectively.

And of course all you beautiful people out there!

XOXO

Hello Halloween

2009-11-02T11:03:00.005+08:00

Halloween 2007

Halloween 2008

And presenting... Halloween 2009!

*drumroll please*
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The Spice Girls!

(Sitting the MRT)
((Posh looks pissed))
(((We're all drunk)))
((((Yes. ALL.)))))

Amazing (G)race

2009-10-30T23:30:00.002+08:00

If I fail my paper tomorrow it'll be because my mom kept distracting me with the Amazing Race.

"Come see this!"
"Just this bit! This girl is really bimbotic!"

"Okay"
*

"This lady is completely useless."

"Okay"
*

"This girl shouldn't even join Amazing Race in the first place."

"Ya"
*

* Represents me obediently standing up from study table and crossing over to go sit in front of the TV.

Sexing the Cherry

2009-10-28T02:39:00.002+08:00

Every journey conceals another journey within its lines: the path not taken and the forgotten angle. These are journeys I wish to record. Not the ones I made, but the ones I might have made, or perhaps did make in some other place or time. I could tell you the truth as you will find it in diaries and maps and log-books. I could faithfully describe all that I saw and heard and give you a travel book. You could follow it then, tracing those travels with your finger, putting red flags where I went.
- Janet Winterson, Sexing the Cherry

At every point in her life the number of paths she could take are so subtle, so subtle yet so very infinite that they spread out like veins from a major artery. They branch out in a million directions and yet all veins lead to the heart. She's still as head over heels in love with the one she's always been in love with and the other has found himself a missus.

Nothing she chose mattered.

The Day I Died

2009-10-28T02:11:00.002+08:00

Was the best day of my life.

Topshop with vintage Tagheuer watch

I die for huge oversized sweater thingies especially if they're kinda dorky or have seams ripped apart in them.

Stress does strange things, some people crave comfort foods, I crave comfort clothes.

Superstar

2009-10-27T00:08:00.002+08:00

So I'm in the midst of talking with a buncha producers about developing my own reality show where I get away with shooting people.

And then go shopping with the money stolen from their wallets.

It's kinda like Gastineu Girls meets Bowling for Columbine.

There'll even be like a celebrity edition.

I'm working out the kinks.

Move While You're Watching Me

2009-10-24T01:33:00.002+08:00

And *poof* one more person deleted from my life.

Forward

2009-10-23T13:49:00.002+08:00

So last night I went to a party, filled up a beer tower with 9 cans of Carlsberg, stared at it and left.

Went home and webcam snuggled and laughed while my boyfriend mimed playing the drums.

I think I'm passing my party girl phase.

Because My Dreams are Bursting at the Seams

2009-10-15T09:28:00.011+08:00

McQueen didn't send beauty queens or super models down the runway at his Spring RTW show, instead he sent creatures, slithering and gliding down the catwalk.
The collection takes us from the microscopic details of the underbellies of insects to the vast beauties of the solar system. Structured capes, meshed tops, skin tight leggings and the shoes, my god the shoes.
It's like they reconstructed the human foot. I die.

Herve Leger for Max Azria, I think weave is the new lace.
And last but not least, Emanuel Ungaro.

Lindsay lindsay lindsay. When your collection revolves around sequined hearts and ill-proportionate skirts and jackets you know it's gonna suck.

Function

2009-10-07T02:22:00.000+08:00

We have concluded that-

Tammi + Gough - Money + Kopitiam Card = Rule the World

Fireflies

2009-10-05T20:43:00.002+08:00

You would not believe your eyes
If ten million fireflies
Lit up the world as I fell asleep

She runs her hands slowly over each object, a pocket knife, a few pieces of neglected change, a receipt for pizza crumpled and slightly damp, a messy tube of Carmex with the cover gone. She allows her fingertips to indulge themselves, feeling every edge and every corner taking in the sensation of the cold nickel.

She closes her eyes and allows her mind to indulge itself.

He is still here. He's not gone.

The Liberty Bell

2009-09-16T04:46:00.003+08:00

I dreamt of you last night.
We took your little brother out for a meal I forgot where and I forgot how but I'm pretty sure you drove because even in my dreams I have little faith in my driving capabilities. Then we went back to your place and everyone who was anyone was there it was like you threw a party or something which I'm guessing you might have because you were playing the role of the perfect host. And I don't remember if there were any forms of alcohol or narcotics but people started to fall asleep and all around your house people were just turning off like lawn sprinklers. And I was exploring the place and every room I opened lead to another room and another and another and all of them seemed to have attached bathrooms and within each room there would be a bed with someone we knew asleep on it. And I started to panic because I couldn't find you and I didn't know which room was your room (well I must have presumed that you were in your room). But eventually I opened a door which lead to a staircase that went up and up and up to a rooftop and it was a humongous swimming pool that overlooked the whole of harbourfront (yes you lived at harbourfront) and I cried out because everything was so beautiful it's like someone picked the sky from the heavens and superimposed it on your rooftop. And there you were at the other end just kind of wading in your "I-couldn't-care-less" way, and I got in the water and swam towards you. And at that moment in time your dad came out looking for you and your dad's famous you know, I'm not sure why but I think it has something to do with tv, well he came out and was hollering for you to come back in but he didn't see us cause we kinda fled and ran under this massive bronze bell that looked like the liberty bell, and we crouched underneath and hid. And it was at that point in time when you opened your mouth and spoke the first line of dialogue in the whole dream, you said "I didn't know what I wanted but now I do, I want you."
And then I woke up.

Mintage Vintage

2009-09-04T01:01:00.007+08:00

Photography: Isaac
Styling: Marilyn of Mintage Vintage

Gia

2009-09-03T01:05:00.002+08:00

Once upon a time,
there was a girl with golden hair...

who went to live
in a beautiful house.

Always the same story.
                 
Always different,
always the same.

Always the same.

But the people in the village
were very poor...

and every night, they crept
into the house where the girl slept...
                 
and they cut off a piece
of her golden hair...
                 
and they sold it for money.
                 
"She'll never even notice,"
they said.

And so,
all the gold

was gone from her head.

Take Out

2009-08-30T23:08:00.001+08:00

So the boy and I are in the living room staring at our individual laptops doing our individual reports and swearing in our individual eclectic mix of dialects while our take-out moulds.

This must be how normal people function.

Excuses

2009-08-24T22:48:00.000+08:00

Friday night sees me in the lobby of the very pristine Mandarin Oriental Hotel with my not so pristine friend passed out in a wheelchair. MK tumbles falls back into a glass vase which shatters immediately. The hotel people are in shock. Doesn't help that I keep whispering, "She's okay, she just woke up really early." repeatedly although it's pretty obvious that the friend in question could have slept through a Metallica concert in her condition.

And I have contracted a horrible cough and it maybe the onset on the cough syrup but I am very surely convinced that I am in fact, going to die. In fact I am lying here on my bed in my Sunday best should that be the case, a blue DVF dress (for heaven) and a change of clothes should I go to that other place.

At my funeral I request that everyone does shots of tequila on my ciffin until someone takes their top off.

Critical Mass

2009-08-21T12:38:00.003+08:00

So the night started off pretty conservatively, we sat in a cafe and mulled over J's maroon-inked T accounts, had pizza, had an intellectual debate of feminism, religion and democracy.

Exactly 2 hours later I was leaned over a bar, flailing exasperatedly, simultaneously trying to convince a pair of SMU exchange students next to me that we had to team up (for what?), got annoyed, snatched a can of pineapple juice triumphantly from behind the bar, realised it wasn't alcoholic, tossed it at my now appalled 'teammates' and went back to attempting to retrieve my (rightfully mine) free tequila shots. Tried to curry favour from a girl in front to cut the queue, plan backfired when i told her instead that she was fat. Finally retrieved what must have been my 9th (10th?) round of drinks and went back to making out shamelessly with other girls while douchey looking guys high-fived each other.

Somehow or another we got back to my place, went swimming topless and passed out.

I guess different people would have different interpretations of an 'accomplished night out'.

Attachment

2009-08-19T12:53:00.001+08:00

I used to think that best friends would remain as awesome and as caring even if they got attached.

I reckon I've been proven wrong at least twice in the past 2 weeks.

I hate couples.

Run

2009-08-19T03:44:00.000+08:00

Where you gonna go now little girl?

Now that all cafes have propped up their chairs, the malls have locked their gates and the deejays have spun their last song?

Run, run.

Autumn

2009-08-12T12:10:00.000+08:00

It's a fiery autumn night, the kind of nights where is air is steeped in electricity so thick you can fill the static buzzing through the hairs on the back of your neck. You're on a boat, all dressed up in an all-black ensemble, a leather jacket thrown hastily over a mini dress, hair swept back clumsily with bobby pins. Someone laughs and asks who died, you smile. The boat speeding through the water but the plastic water bottle of vodka you downed earlier makes everything seem surreal, rows of terracotta roofed houses bounce in and out of your vision, every now and then a blinking water marker hurls itself pass the hull of the boat. There's a small dance floor in this boat and at the moment it's brimming with people, huge bulky faceless figures gyrating up and down, bathed in tacky neon spotlights. You push pass people to get to the toilet, which is a flight of stairs down. There is a girl in a flapper dress who is doubled over at the bottom of the stairs, her leg flipped backwards and the heel of her cheap stiletto stuck in the gap of the stairs. You help her up and she starts slurring, telling you about how she bought her dress on eBay, you smile and tell her she's lucky she isn't fat.
You step out to the front of the boat for a breather, everyone seems to be smoking a cigar, the smell of toasting leather fills the cold air. You inch cautiously towards the front, wind nipping at your nose, searing your cheeks, you stand there with your head tilted upwards and your arms outstretched, feeling like a bad Hollywood parody, but you can't help it. All around you inky water slushes and the boat cuts through, you don't move, starring, studying the night sky until even when you close your eyes you see constellations on the inside of your eyelid.

Chasing My Excuses

2009-08-02T14:42:00.000+08:00

Black mesh top from kermione

Size Zero

2009-07-24T13:16:00.002+08:00

I could blog about the models, the beautiful clothes and the beautiful people who wear them, I could blog about the parties and the socialites, I could blog about the hotels and the suites, the launches and the concerts, I could blog about any of those things.

But in the end the only thing I got out of Hong Kong is really a wake-up call and a big fat ass reality check.

That and a Diane Von Furstenberg dress.

2009-07-16T14:05:00.002+08:00

"Really so when I meet her what do I call her? Miss Lady?"

"Gaga, just Gaga."
...

"Anyone wants a pair of free tickets to the opening of Harry Potter?"
-Silence-
"Anybody? One at a time now..."
-Silence-
...
And you know how people have posters like these in the office?

We have these:

Respect the deadlines.
Otherwise the
production manager will
eat your freaking head.

Postcards to a Friend

2009-07-14T10:45:00.003+08:00

Dear you,

I'm sure you don't really understand why I'm doing this. Why I always run away, why I always self-destruct when everything seems to be going fine, why I alienate myself and you from the rest of the world.

We are not society people like they are. And you know that.

The artist is the phoenix who burns to emerge. Do you not know that by now? You need to uproot, to run, to be in constant motion such that you should not form bond with anything, any place, anyone. I am your home.

You do not understand now, but someday you will.

XOXO

WIP

2009-07-08T13:35:00.001+08:00

Me at work. With my 50SGD Mongkok manicure. Balls.

Bobby Pins

2009-07-08T13:24:00.001+08:00

I like the way I look in your brown eyes.

(that's why I do my hair in them)

Little Black Ache

2009-07-04T19:41:00.001+08:00

It's hard to believe that a someone with mocha brown eyes, a toothy grin and a girlfriend of 6 years is gone forever.

Sometimes Summertimes

2009-06-25T00:07:00.002+08:00

Sometimes I wonder if anything I did, or did not do would have made even the slightest difference.
And by sometimes.
I mean all the time.

When you see me with arm propped up against my chin, my right foot tucked behind my left heel, that distant faraway look in my eyes, those slightly pursed lips.

Yup. That's it.

Day 1

2009-06-23T00:58:00.003+08:00

Transcribed an interview with one of the world's awesomest designers ever, in my books she's comparable to Junya Watanabe, Limi Feu, daughter of awesomer Yohji Yamamoto.

Went to a TODS press release sample sale. Tried hard not to go balistic over TODS leather loafers going for a mere 200 SGD, long calf leather wallets for for a hundred-ish SGD. Bought a full leather handbag for mom under 500 SGD and called it a day.

Went for lunch at the Marriot Hong Kong, finished up work and went for the grand opening of Miso, a new restaurant in Soho Hong Kong, opened by some entertainment mogul. Got swamped by paparazzi in a get-out-of-my-way way, squeezed into a corner with a flute of Veuve and smiled politely as my aunt introduced me to Hong Kong's top model as well as Nicholas Tse's sister. Saw a whole bunch of beautiful people, almost dripped soy on someone's Chanel clutch, decided to hide in the corner cause no one would want to talk to an intern. Even me.

Came home.

The City

2009-06-21T23:15:00.002+08:00

Like falling head over heels in love with someone you've but only just met, yet she doesn't even know you exist.

How can I describe Hongkong.

Shrouded in a thin veil of blue green smoke, engulfed in it's own little metropolitan pace, turquoise skyscrapers that rival the emerald mountains that make up the natural landscape. Streets that never die, lights that never dim. All around people absorbed in their own little artificial world, in their little clouds of branded eu de toilette that linger around them, in their ipods tucked into a knit beanie, a DCMA cap, a silk rimmed fendora, the clicking of their chloe heels, their louboutins, crunching of their yohji high cut pleather sneakers. The only place where couple dressing is practiced in a socially acceptable way. Her in her oversized heather grey cashmere sweater and him in a cropped heather peacoat with bronze military buttons. Where everyone is gorgeous and a size 2 or below.

And above all me. Me interning in a high society firm, politely averting my gaze from the creme de la creme of the publishing world, living in a studio apartment by myself on the beach, right smack on top of the world's coziest beach shack.

Pinch me I think I'm dreaming.

Home

2009-06-15T22:56:00.003+08:00

It's always the darkest before dawn.