fuchsia sari on a waxwork flowerchild

I was doing up my proofreading/writing/CV doctor portfolio site*, a project I've procrastinated on since forever when I realised, 'Oh, there have hardly been any outfit shots on the blog!' And wait a minute, even though I haven't been taking loads since I moved to Brighton (no idea why), there are still so many sitting happily in my expanded hard disk drive. So have I vowed to start posting outfit shots more regularly-- not forgetting those others I have been meaning to write up on-- and possibly even summery shots as a visual respite from the blazing cold. On Monday, D texted me after his tai chi class that there was live music around. Thinking, 'Yay! Live music!' and 'It's going to be three-hours tops', I absentmindedly grabbed this vintage wear-in-many-different-ways silk sari skirt, purchased a few years back for only. . 20p, and tied it high-waisted below a vintage black midriff top** that I've owned since twelve, and which I found the other day to layer beneath a jumper***. A little tired of wearing boots all the time**** I slipped my feet into a pair of velvet Charles & Keith shoes with five-inch silver heels, cushioned by a comfortable pair of black Primark socks. And time to adorn myself! Lately I pulled out my entire flower collection and put some downstairs with my trinket collection and up went a red fabric rose, a pretty pair of fuchsia-studded earrings******, the fingerless lace gloves, a fuchsia cocktail ring from Diva, and stuffed some possessions into a Christian Dior handbag*******. Dressed in ten minutes. And because it was supposed to be three hours tops since the bars shut at about 12am in Hove, I simply painted on lipstick and eyeliner, thinking, 'Who cares about makeup'. Same thing that I told the fluffy nosey-parker cat who tears into your house and sleeps on your couch and looks like a Chocolate Robber-- "Hey, I'll be back soon! Come visit then!" at about 830pm. I hadn't eaten all day (or drank much water) and was actually envisioning a nice, warm dinner. Except that, it was 10am and about 30 shots of dark rum between us later that we arrived back. Well, at least we had a greasy, overpriced breakfast before then.

*It's a shameless plug I know, but do drop me a mail if you need such services. Or if you know anyone who does.

**I was recounting to D happily, "Oh I think I haven't grown fat like how my mother keeps telling me I'll balloon into a fat slob in the UK (because it happens to many). Look! I can still fit into this! I've had it since 12" and he laughed (as usual at Clown With Red Nose me) saying, "I told you you haven't grown fat!". Now, normally I am the last insecure person about sizing, and I haven't weighed myself in more than a year, and happily wear XXL clothes rather than get upset about sizing labels. And, I remembered how I nearly gave my mother a heart attack when I brought this top home from the thrift store.

***So as to minimise laundry. Clever me. Hah.

****That, coming from a girl who wore boots in Singapore and throughout the summer.

*****You know how you are lazy to pull on tights? Long skirt? Just pull on socks. Fabulous. And Primark socks are 50p to £1, no guilt whatsoever involved.

******That D keeps insisting is new, and doesn't believe when I tell him how many times I've worn it out with him. Do you think I have the money to afford Christian Dior at this moment in time, Mr C? Obviously delusional.

*******About £1 or S$2 only from Aldo. Because nobody bought it, there were truckloads left. I was pleased as punch. Presumably, they must be a little too 'loud' and 'flamboyant'. Red rose from Superdrug-- even drugstores are dangerous territories for me. 

aaa

The live music was pretty fab-- it was Open Mic night at many local pubs, and there's some serious talent about. Makes me really want to start singing again, and take proper singing lessons-- something I've only dreamed about all my life. And start sketching again. And start belly-dancing again. And start finding my way around the piano again. The Brighton arts scene is insane but. . well, I'm a Gap Year Limbo Girl this year and a poor student for the next three. Disaster. I'm sure I'll find a way out. D was extremely excited as he produces music as a hobby, and when he gets into his music toys, he goes all gaga. This was after we spent about three hours in a pub, before he said, "It's the Full Moon!" and led me to another pub which wasn't really justaroundthecorner, but luckily my shoes were comfortable. And of course, I opened my mouth and gleefully went, "Photos, please".

I was instructed not to smile because 'You look really good evil with flash". Men, and their weird Get Shot By A Femme Fatale Fantasies. Tsk tsk.

 

And of course, having drunk so many glasses, a girl must top up her lippie. This red shimmering one Stila's 24-carat gold Indian-inspired collection. Speaking of drinks, there was a stage in my life when I cut out alcohol and evil MacDonald's completely, thinking smugly I'd come to the UK and be a teetotaler. In my mind, you can't spend on drinks and shoes. Something's gotta give, unless you're a Trust Fund Kid or Kept Woman. In the same way, to keep remotely fit if you don't exercise at all apart from a few inconsequential squats whilst you brush your teeth, you can't have the appetite of a man twice your weight and drink. So it's what makes you less happy. Sometimes I get a little upset that I don't feel happier or higher no matter how much I've drunk. I don't feel less restrained or uninhibited. And apart from rum, Cointreau and a few other spirits, port or yummy cocktails, there's not much about the taste of alcohol I really like. Dark grape juice and dark chocolate are really nicer. I've never been drunk or had a hangover, and always end up taking care of those who are easily high and drunk. Not that I really want those, but sometimes you gotta wonder if you're an alien apart from the fact that you might flush when you drink. So yes, all my teetotaler fantasies have annihilated in my face, courtesy of D.

The Pot|Kettle hybrid of a Narcissist who snaps a million photos of himself when he uses my iPhone front camera tells me, as always, "You're so vain". And then, at this precise moment, he told me, "That's what my mother said about you too! She was laughing that 'she's very vain!'". And I froze. Shit. That is not a good thing at all. I remember being quite careful of my vanity around her. When I first met her in Cyprus, she kept saying for the first two days, "You're very, very pretty". I was a bit befuddled. Then one night, she pointed some at some fat geeky-looking Asian on American Idol and told D she imagined I looked that way because she saw me at night at some weird angle on the webcam in my geeky glasses* and knew I was at Cambridge and am Asian. I burst out laughing, and jokingly concluded that his prior taste in women must have been bad. But apparently, she likes me unusually much, which I guess/hope, overrides vanity.

*Not fashion-geek glasses, but unfortunately-thick lenses because I'm the blindest and most astigmatic person I know so far.

I love wax pieces like these-- they remind me of stalactites and stalagmites. Or those fossilised creatures in Pirates of the Caribbean. Am now aiming to wait for years to achieve Bottles Dripping With Wax. We were chatting, laughing, musing over drinks, kicking back and relaxing, and playing with the wax, wick and fire. I love fire. It's elementally-powerful, just like strong waves crashing against the beach and carrying away everything in its wake.

 

The crazy man who goes around telling every stranger that I am Trouble.

 

And of course, Trouble can't help but break into smiles all the time. I'm always smiling, and apparently even when I'm angry I look like I'm smiling too. Which is bad. My mother and grandfather used to tell me that as a child I smiled so much-- to everyone and to myself-- when I found old photos I look like a happy smiler in them all and a bit like a mad cat. Apparently when I was born, the nurse walked into my mother's room and told her, "Your daughter cannot stop smiling. She has four dimples". Well, smile and the whole world smiles with you :)

 

And then, the crazy man brought me to the casino. Which was a very bad idea for him. But, it was a fabulous and fun night overall, with me dressed a little like a Gypsy-Meets-Bellydancer in winter (strangely, I don't feel as cold as most other people when I normally freeze to death in air-conditioned rooms in Singapore), and him in yoga pants after Tai Chi.

It was absolutely lovely to wake up to so many amazing comments on the Warm, Spicy Drinks post and getting all excited about trying out new recipes. It's about 3am here, I'm munching Kinder Buenos, popping in red grapes and treating my ears to a most rousing rendition of Bach's Toccata & Fugue in D Minor BWV 565-- definitely need my piano here! Will pop by your sites soon enough! Have a glorious Rest of The Week xxx