burlesque and cabaret by the brighton pier

 

I often like to muse aloud that I'm living in Kinky Brighton. Besides its reputation for being The Happiest Place In The UK, other things it's known for range from Gay Capital of The UK to Place Where Bosses Would Take Their Secretaries To For 'Meetings'; even the gorgeous Royal Pavilion was built by the Prince Regent for affairs with his mistress who was a married woman. Slightly risque dressing is therefore a-ok over here, much to my delight. In line with how much I love the Burlesque style and channel my inner Vintage Girl sometimes, whilst drooling like crazy at the sheer array of artsy vintage delights over here, tonight we went for Sirens, a burlesque-meets-poledancing cabaret show. And hence that cheeky opening shot ;)

Fans, feathers, poles, tulles, chocolates and ribbons and loads of happy people channeling their inner Showgirl/boy personality. . .

After it was all over we walked in the drizzle by the pier, and took some photographs, before watching the sea roar majestically. .  Boy was it windy, but the fine mists drizzling down coupled with the waves crashing in the foggy moonlight felt amazing. You have to love an excellent elemental experience.

 

I wanted to go for a more elegant and classy look rather than simply tiny dresses and short hemlines, so the black woolen skirt with the silk sash that I wear for formal presentations came out. Because we were doing Sirens for the night, I thought, why not inject a teeny little bit of naughtiness with a sheer top, whilst covering it a little with my blue-and-gold Oriental print collar, which matched a beautiful clutch that I bought during the recent sales. And you'll always need more lace to finish it off-- blue lace floral stockings and black fingerless lace gloves, whilst wearing rings that just get bigger and bigger. . .

 

Since I've yet to own maroon lipstick, I mixed purple lipstick with red, inspired by how my mother always mixes her colours and paints them on carefully with a lip brush. And the feather eyelashes with the long tips at the side came out again . . .

vintage sheer polka-dotted top; Gemma Eve collar; Accessorize lace stockings; Charles & Keith signature pumps; Sara Sturgeon skirt; Accessorize clutch; vintage pearl earrings; Diva rings; Tivoli honey faux-fur coat

  

 

Have a glorious weekend everyone! :)

russian spy and full moon ritual

Hello from tropical Singapore! After three hours of sleep due to the Takes Forever Process of finding the cheapest (and most efficient) way to travel to Heathrow, I worked for a few hours, went back and finished up my packing and made the beginning of my trip out of the cold and into the hot. I was a little stunned that I fitted everything, including a spare duffel, into my tiny unexpanded luggage, which was a shocking 12.7kg when weighed at the bag drop-- contrary to all the times when I make the limit by the skin of my teeth or try to smile my way through. As I hugged D goodbye, The Chocolate Robber appeared from nowhere and tore up the stairs into the flat, so the busy man has some other feline company* whilst rushing on his projects.

At 630pm on Friday, I landed in Changi airport after a most comfortable flight due to ample legroom as I managed to secure front-row seats by the exit. I also literally conked off the moment I sat down, and had to be awoken by the kind lady next to me lest I missed my meals-- most strange behaviour exhibited by myself given how I love being wide-awake and bushy-tailed whilst flying. As they opened the airplane windows after our 'night flight' and served us breakfast an hour before landing, the sun was shining in the sky and I couldn't help smiling to myself. Zipped through the automatic customs for citizens in the gorgeous Changi Airport**, and boy did it feel good to be home! After picking up more presents for my father at Duty Free, I spied my luggage on the conveyor belt, ran towards it, and then my brother mysteriously appeared out of nowhere whilst my parents were smiling. Oh yes, I'm home. And I couldn't be happier, although a part of me does wish D could be here too***.  Then there's been food, food and more food, with loads of Chinese New Year goodies everywhere and me going, "Slow down, I can't eat everything at once!" Haha. I happily unveiled dresses and lipsticks for my mother which she was happily trying on, and hugged my cats who were meowing away to some most lyrical chorus whilst dancing around the room, true to their elegant nature.

This morning I showed up unannounced at the SPCA (where I spent six years of my Saturday mornings/afternoons) and it was awesome to meet up with my friends there and see their delighted faces, whilst giving as many hugs as I could to all the gorgeous animals there. This post was half-written whilst I was in Brighton, and I'm filling it up as I lie on my bed and hug my familiar pillows, whilst reminding myself to buy fatter pillows back in Brighton. . .

*Since he thinks I am a cat. 

**The airport is so pretty and with so many shops and food that people go to the airport for fun

*** Even though I kinda think that if he goes house-visiting with me during Chinese New Year, everybody will think I'm married and won't give me red packets (containing money)-- oh the perks of being young and unmarried!

 

I always feel an inexplicable sense of restlessness on Sunday evenings. Actually, I start getting bored and then restless if I'm indoors between 730pm and 10pm everyday, before getting either insanely productive or wildly creative. No idea why, but the restlessness then degenerates into sleepiness; and the problem is intensified on Sundays. It's been this way since I was a wee child. So this Sunday, I found my fake fringe. Rather than to look in the mirror and snip off my bangs the way I did back in August, I played with a fake fringe instead, which I bought to pretend to be a stranger when D was due to visit in Cambridge one Friday. Set a location to meet, wait from the bookstore opposite and ambush. Okay, I play too many jokes on people but can't help that. Anyhows, I decided to sweep the bangs sideways and Play Pretend again. This time, continuing on my weekend theme of Russian Spy a.k.a. Evelyn Salt. No idea why but it keeps running through my head. Huge fur collar over the existing slip I was wearing, pale pink lipgloss, and vintage perforated white leather gloves later, I was feeling it. "Are you playing dress up?" he went, all amused, "I saw you prancing in front of the mirror!". Fine. I thought he was busy writing music and didn't notice, all happy with new toys. So I put on more clothes and we went for a walk, telling D I am his new girlfriend (since he insists I look different again), still feeling like a Russian Spy. It must be something in the stars.

The other shots here are that of the Full Moon nights. I love to light a few candles-- this time I've got a big red 'bomb' candle from Habitat and vanilla-scented tealights. You have to love sales, or you'd go broke from purchasing candles. Pillar candles at the end of their lives are good 'tealight holders', whilst the flat gets scented with a mixture of frankincense, black pepper, ylang ylang and sage.

 

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This was another of D's Breakfasts on Wednesday before I left. He's always asking if I have to go to work "so I can cook you breakfast". These basil mushrooms were wicked. I feel very very very lucky because it is one thing for a man to treat you to fancy meals, and it is another for him to prepare them himself :) Although he loves to joke that I'm with him because he can cook since I'm a greedy girl.

The night before I left, he even went out in the cold to get extra ingredients so he could do the lamb Moroccan-style. I had no idea he was planning on something so elaborate, because he was dead exhausted from working so hard. There was roasted lamb marinated with Middle Eastern spices served on a bed of cous cous with dried fruit, dressed with spiced Greek yoghurt. On the side was a three bean, tomato, shallot, spring onion and white onion salad drizzled with olive oil and lemon juice; as well as a dollop of humus to go with the pita bread.

Off to bed now. .  Hopefully we'll see a Singapore post up within the next few days. . I do suspect I might be so busy over here I'd end up conking off when for days when I get back to the UK! Catch up with your blogs soon, and thank you as always for stopping by xxx

retro snakes

 

Before the snow started to fall, I had uncovered loads of clothes that I stored away in boxes for the past year. Excitedly, I drew up a few image sets and decided to execute them, with the aid of tights, some scarves and big coats to keep myself warm. Because last year was supposed to be the worst winter in the past twenty years or so of British history, and I survived extraordinarily well wearing summer clothes inside. I had no idea just why-- in about 24 degree celsius air-conditioned rooms in Singapore, I would freeze, tremble and practically reverberate, and everyone would sympathetically lend their jackets to me. Australian winters were hell to me, and I always piled up. But I found the British winter strangely comforting, even when native Brits were having their teeth chattering, I thought it a little odd-- maybe I had somewhat turned mutant! So I stupidly thought this year would be no kick. And then the snows rained down, the temperatures plummeted-- alright, living by the coast does have fierce winters. Tights will not suffice. This was my very last execution of my beautiful plans that have since witnessed their evanescence. .

the vintage pinup girl in the haunted manor

You might remember that I mentioned two costume changes this Halloween-- The Best Friend and I agreed that the more, the merrier. Plus she had bought too many props the evening before she came, meaning we should use them all. After we finished our Beach of the Dead Zombie Walk, I brought her for a tiny tour around Brighton before heading back to the flat where D was whipping up a delicious South Indian curry from scratch. Denise and I excitedly ran upstairs (we do that all the time whenever we go to each other's homes) and shortlisted outfits for the night, pulling out all our props onto the bed. In the end, she settled on my floral jumpsuit to match her pink wig. And I decided, what better excuse than to do my favourite vintage pinup look? 

tropical creatures reveling in boots and coats and capes

 

About a year ago before I left Sing, The Best Friend told me, "P I don't know how you can dare to leave your whole life and start a brand new life elsewhere". Because I wasn't intending to go back to live anytime soon. And because I'd never been to Europe before, much less England. Knew no one in England (D wasn't back in the country yet). Basically I was walking into unknown turf with a few luggages I was struggling with and five boxes of stuff to be shipped over (also because D said, "ship everything", but I shipped half). This February, Denise excitedly Skyped me about some scheme for work in England. Oh God. My best friend coming to live in England?? What could be better! March and April followed, she underwent interviews and called me up, "P I GOT THE JOB!". Mid-September came, and she landed in England for the first time too. About two weeks ago, I took a break from packing up my dorm room and boarded the train to Stevenage. It was certainly slightly surreal that we are both in the UK. "Why are you so dressed up?" she asked me "It's just the cape. And I'm meeting you I have to look good", I replied. "You know I was panicking because I was meeting you and my skirts are all being shipped over. I have to dress up to meet you too!" she laughed. And off we went for lunch and to celebrate her birthday with her colleague batch from Sing, before heading off to shop on our own and where I introduced her to English Cream Tea With Scones And Clotted Cream for the first time. As we walked to her temporary accommodation we were musing about how natural it felt that we were both on a foreign land and adjusted quickly. . and it just seemed very matter-of-factly that we were both here eight years since we've known each other. We then shopped online for furniture (since she's moving into her own first real place too!) and tried on each other's stuff laughing at how Becks & Suze it feels. You see, we both love the Shopaholic series, appealing to the vain frivolities in us, which we discovered when we were eighteen. Except we can never be sure who is really Becks and who is Suze-- perhaps a combination-- and I'm sure that neither of us want a Tarkie (although he looked surprisingly good in the movie).  She thinks D sounds exactly like Luke, which makes me laugh, and then I remembered reading something in Mini Shopaholic that sounds something like "Tarquin adores Suze so much [...] whilst Luke always looks at me with suspicion as though I am up to no good all the time. Which I am not." That sentence hit me hard. D always thinks I am up to no good-- I can't help having a cheeky face, it's been there since young!-- even when I'm just smiling whilst innocently shopping he'll tell his mom (who also thinks I'm cheeky. Oh God) I have something up my (non-existent) sleeves. We then proceeded to take loads of photographs, happy that we're both at last able to revel in coats and boots that we could only dream of and try for fun in Zara whilst living in tropical Singapore. . .