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. .

thai food at the wick inn

A week ago, I came back home to find a note from D that he had gone for Tai Chi. Interesting, I thought. I realised that my fingerless lace gloves had arrived in the post, in my attempt to replace all the four pairs of gloves that mysteriously 'disappeared' from my carefully-packed possessions* in my dorm room. So I decided to meet him for drinks and dinner, changed my outfit to one more befitting of the gloves** and put on my Icarus Grew Oriental Wings top, slicked on some red lipstick, dramatised the black liquid eyeliner and the appropriate accouterments-- a ring with a burst of pearls and another sheer red fabric rose one, both from Diva, and bronze chandelier earrings from Forever 21. I also threw on my gold Bebe brocade coat and a Dior handbag with pretty embroidery, feeling in my element. As I walked there, I kept texting him to order wedges-- my pub staple-- fantasising about warm hearty and slightly spicy potato chunks I would anoint with vinegar and pepper, but he kept telling me to be patient. For what? I wondered. And then as I walked into the charming old pub The Wick Inn, with a gleeful smile did he hand over the Thai Menu to me. And all cravings of wedges shimmered out of the many windows in the establishment. .

*Because you don't screw with the memory of an elephant, much less a photographic one. Alas, how is one to raise a case that 'four pairs of gloves and two letters were selectively stolen from my room?'
** You know how you might have no sense of delayed gratification and must wear new stuff now?