a phrenology head in floral prints

There's something extremely charming about shirts that are too big for you. They look fantastic when tucked into high-waisted shorts (a similar style last seen in my first-ever post) or short skirts. This means that those beautiful printed shirts you find whilst thrifting or as the last piece on the sales rack that are too big for you can actually be worn. It also means that you can happily steal your man's/brother's/father's shirts, and get them writhing in jealousy that their clothes actually look better on you, whilst cheekily retorting that you're doubling the mileage for their clothes ;)

 ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

So, this is actually my grandmother's top. She'd bring us all to the textile shop to select patterns a few times a year, so she could tailor them. I love some of the prints*, so I took a few when she passed on-- it's a good way of remembering someone so very close to you and I hate to see clothes go to waste. Sometimes I find myself taking things no one else wants, whether stuff that's passed on or hanging sadly in the unwanted sales rack but I guess if you see meaning and/or potential in something, why not. For some time I wondered just how I could use them-- as the cut was more senior citizen than for 20-year-old-me back then-- and one day it struck me to wear them with very short bottoms. Voila. Wicked! On hindsight I should have taken them all because they were quality textiles and could be easily worked into any outfit. Anyway, I digress.

Large shirt (with sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone) +  high-waisted shorts + a few pieces of bold jewelry = chic summer look

And going out in bunches, of course. I love that look. Plus if you sleep with your hair bunned up high on both sides, you wake up with beautiful soft waves. Sometimes you just want to go out looking a bit mad. 

 *Which I helped select quite happily. You see, whenever my mother accuses me of being very vain, I tell her I am an extreme version of her and her mother (i.e. my grandmother) combined.

 ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

top from my grandmother; Adam high-waisted shorts; Mango belt; Aldo shoes; Roccobarracco handbag; vintage bracelet; Accessorize earrings 

This is basically me following my own Five Second Makeup Face routine. This is Face (a), achieved by a quick wash of eyeshadow. The Five Second Makeup Face is pretty much what I do almost everyday, unless I'm going out for a meal, a date with D, to meet some friends, or just deciding to play with makeup for the hell of it.  But indulging in so little makeup has been refreshing ever since I gave up on foundation and mascara everyday. A simple skincare routine + sunblock + BB cream + eyebrow pencil followed by Five Second Makeup seems to suffice.

I love phrenology heads. D and I were once chatting about phrenology heads and then we started googling for them as well as 92891313 different concepts before realising it was 6am already. We both expressed that we wanted one, and the next thing we knew, we saw an original one by Fowler in a shop window the next day. Talk about madness. The mattress on the floor is a Thai Triangle Cushion, purchased recently for guests to sleepover on, because D launched an endless tirade against 'horrible, ugly blow-up mattresses that take forever to blow up, they are a joke". This has been a fantastic investment though (despite price differentials when compared with the blow-up mattress)-- a functional and beautiful piece of furniture that folds up into a neat pyramid when not in use. Of course, because it is so comfortable, it remains laid out all the time and I spend all my time lying on it.

the devil is a teeze, and the lady is a vamp

 It's been a little break I've taken from Devilishly Pleasurable, the clocks have adjusted, and in the thick of an extremely busy week leading up to a huge make-or-break event for me, I have fallen sick. My head is in the clouds and everything is dancing. Which is really bad news. Once every few days, the devil standing on my left shoulder whispers into my ear, "Blog! Those shoes!" and then the angel standing on the other coos, "Blog! Those shoes!". And so I've caved in while sniffing away. So yes, Those Shoes. Bordello Teeze in red and white polkadots. The most comfortable six-inches I have ever worn-- after all they are made for dancers (whilst I pretend that I am one).

One Thursday night D told me about some event called Lock In At The Rock Inn and I said, "ooh I can dress up!".

"That's what I told the friend who recommended me, 'The girl would be so excited to dress up!' ". And dress up I did. This beautiful vintage dress I got from Cambridge but had never worn thus far got belted up with my mom's awesome soft red leather belt. But prior to that, I had wandered into a shop and found a black bob wig which looks a little like the pink one Denise wore for Halloween. And I danced around the flat pretending to look like Catherine Zeta-Jones in Chicago, stuffing my thick crown of hair into it. Recently, too, we stumbled upon this brand of feather eyelashes called Stargazer. If you thought that my previous feather eyelash exploits were mad enough, this brand carries those with enough flamboyance to end all flamboyance. Although the base is a little flimsy, the lashes are SO huge I feel like there's a glamorous arachnid on my eyelids, flanked by sparkly gold tips. Funnily enough, the extra-large eyes as a result, coupled with the bob makes me look so much younger, and friendlier for a change. .  With yet another new face, I told the lucky devil he had a new girlfriend for the night. Normally he calls me P44124, P92738 (kinda like Stargate planet addresses haha) and then that night we reverted to my real name, for a change.

 

 

 

Strangely enough, the contrasting Flower Of Life pattern tights from Pamela Mann (which he picked out) worked wickedly with the shoes. It was an experiment-- as was the contrasting of the blue with the red-- and I accessorised with some diamond stud earrings, a large gold necklace and a red Diva fabric rose ring, before slipping on a red trench coat and a quilted Chanel handbag. Off and ready for the night! Unfortunately, the event was extremely bizarre and it was slightly discomforting when people started asking me, "Are you going up to perform?". Still, we had a good time chatting over drinks after the event, and then headed back into Brighton town proper for some live music. . And of course, D had taken me more amazing photographs I was drooling over. .

 

Meanwhile in some underground bar, some girl came over and asked to take photographs of my legs/shoes because she was rather amazed by it. Actually the whole night, I was approached by many girls regarding my shoes/tights/wig (shiny hair!)/feather eyelashes, and I had to explain that I went to some event earlier on. And that I don't normally walk around looking like that (even if that isn't necessarily a bad thing). So she happily snapped away, and took some for D and myself. Following which I became trigger-happy documenting my shoes too. .

 "This is like some CSI crime scene shot with a disembodied leg"-- D. Hah!

And of course I have to thank D for helping me decide on the colour of the shoes. I was having a tussle between black/white and red/white, where this Rational Practical Self keeps telling me I need practical shoes (or at least practical colours) because once in a while do I look at all my shoes and realise I have no practical ones save for knee-high walking boots. And he convinced me to accept my Real Love for the red/white pair. . which I keep prancing about it indoors. Hey, it's my first pair of new shoes in more than half a year. . and also a reward for an entire week of non-stop hard work earlier this month :)

I hope to be able to drop by your sites when the mayhem of this week (and the illness) blows over. . Have a glorious week ahead xxx

celebrating sapiosexuality with a hint of film noir

 

You have to love Sarah not only for her elegant sense of aesthetics but also for the education you get from her. I learnt what 'sapiosexuality' is-- getting turned on by intelligence-- and finally felt at home knowing what I am. So I decided that Valentine's Day will be the day of celebrating sapiosexuality because up until things started kicking off with D, I always thought it was gimmicky and a grrrrrreat day to profit by selling goodies. Then came the day when my mother called me up whilst I was busy processing animal adoptions, telling me some anonymous bouquet of flowers with a cryptic alliterated message had shown up, and I knew it was D, because he was the only one I gave my address to (besides forms and gurlfriends). And who else would send such embedded messages.  Funny how things can take a different twist when you finally meet Your Match, whether in terms of cheekiness, Talking The Hind Legs Off A Donkey, speed, greed and way more. Then by a bout of cognitive dissonance or Übermensch-ism*, I decided that I would celebrate it for our own special meaning**, an excuse to perhaps receive presents***, a reason to dress up, and of course, an occasion for f-o-o-d. Oh, the joys of utter gluttony! And also because I can't be an ingrate, right? This year, we were dead busy rushing deadlines but he mentioned dinner, albeit a late one because he had tai chi classes and I wasn't even sure if I could make it for dinner, sitting away at my Mac firing my fingers and neurons away. Eventually, I finished at 830pm (time of his class), managed to convince the restauranteur to keep the table for 1015pm, and had exactly forty-five minutes to take an attenuated version of a Holy Bath**** and dress up. . .

* Nietzsche's Overman who destroys socially-constructed, taken-for-granted meanings, splices them, lives them, thinks them through and with a great force of conviction, creates his own meanings. A bit like Max Weber's impassioned "Here I stand, I can do no more".

**kinda like how Christmas means family and warmth rather than blind festivities which obscure religious syncretism borrowing from Horus' birthday, for starters.

***because I still find it strange accepting presents

****what my friend Lulu christens my long baths as

 

One amazing thing about D is how he always indulges my requests for 'take photos of my shoes!' :) Even if I have gorgeous shoes (if I say so myself lol), it takes guts to be taking them in public. Either that or he's given up on me. .

I had set the camera mode wrongly ('night portrait' doesn't like me!) and so the photographs turned out strange. Nevertheless, playing with extreme contrast and making them black-and-white imparted some kind of Film Noir feel, which I love. . 

It is always with a mix of excitement, trepidation and flow as I happily kneel in front of my dresser mirror and rediscover what I have, dressing up spontaneously whilst wondering how the experiment will turn out. This time, I had brought my paper butterflies from Singapore, purchased from the Kids' Section, and decided to wear both in my hair. Bunned hair, simple mascara and red lips, rather than my flamboyant feather eyelashes because I wanted to go as P (if there is such a thing). I'm not sure if I've shown this stunning heavy wool vintage coat before, but it is a total beauty. Never in my wildest dreams would I think of full-length coats, imagining them to be frumpy (me eating my words again. Yum!) but this one flares out from a slight nip at the waist, dancing as I walk. Plus it keeps one most warm too. The classic cut and the fact that it fits like a glove makes me feel so lucky to own it. I'd also refrained from wearing those printed tights (from the same range as my snakeskin one here) because I always assumed the pattern would be hidden. Imagine my surprise when I finally wore them with the red pumps I am only too addicted to-- partly because you can wear those pumps and walk for hours in them despite the 5-inch heel. I'm also learning how much I love long-strapped handbags-- the sort that my mother always uses, that I used to think was a little old-fashioned as 'my time' was one where straps became short and bags were to be tucked under your armptis. In this overall look, I feel a little like Dita von Teese sashaying down the streets. Such are my delusions of grandeur ;)

 

 Us both looking slightly menacing in all-black. .

__________________________

And now, the part I know you all love ;) FOOD! I am such a Singaporean at heart, always talking about food. We greet each other with, "Have you eaten?" instead of "how are you". (Unless you are anorexic/dieting/missing out on life's pleasures). . .

Going through my wardrobe, I decided on this red halter-neck dress with happy flower prints. I know, I know, it's a little crazy to wear a halter-dress in the middle of winter, what more in chilly Brighton, but all's warm with the coat. I also wore a snake cuff (seen better here), one of my two 'snakes'. Snakes are such elegant creatures (I love them!) and represent wisdom and protection (e.g. in Greek mythology or Buddhist scripture), or even temptation (in the Abrahamic faiths) which gives another layer of charm and mystique to their invertebral elegance as they slither and hiss. Otherwise, consider me some kind of taxidermist with a twist, adorning myself with animal-inspired pieces. .

Mango dress; vintage wool coat; vintage snake cuff; Accessorize butterfly clips; vintage Elle tattooed stockings; Dolce & Gabanna pumps; Chanel handbag; Diva ring

We dined at Sahara, a North African/Moroccan/Arabic restaurant, with very reasonable prices. These were spicy potatoes and vine leaves starters. D was teasing me "I love to eat vegetables" when I asked him why he didn't order a meat starter, as usual in response to his horror that I don't buy vegetables. I told my mother (who eats veg with the fervour of a rabbit) that D strategises 'cooking vegetables in ways to make you eat them' and she sounded very happy. And he sounded even happier to know that she was happy about it.

Mains for myself was an awesome spiced rice with herby lamb and him, a mixed kebab. "Why didn't you order the mixed kebab?"/"I knew you would order it". And cardamon tea is so amazing, I had to risk being thought of as madder than I already am mixing cardamon tea with shiraz.

No matter how full you might be, there is always the Dessert Compartment. That is one lesson D has learned (or is still learning). I had a moist apple and cinnamon cake and he, the most amazing banoffee pie I've ever tasted, made with quality toffee and short, tropical bananas (i.e. my favourite type of bananas). Whilst we spent dinner laughing, camwhoring, and launching into all sorts of strange debates, it's amazing how time flies by when you're having a good time. I ordered another round of banoffee pie, and the head waiter thought I was joking at first. And then, by the time I ordered the fourth round, he was absolutely stunned but indulged us with a super-large portion. . . We walked home in the cold and stumbled into the door looking like two pregnant people with big bellies, which haven't subsided even though it's Friday morning at present.

 

 

Right now The Lair is undergoing some transformation of sorts-- not because I'm too free to keep redoing it. . but expect more photographs and the story soon! It's starting to look like some Grotto of an eccentric designer (which is what D is) cum Lair cum Opium Den and I just hope we've time this weekend to work on opening up all the boxes and putting things together. As well as put up loads of amazing artwork. And then for me to put together the photos from Singapore, and all the other older photos. Sometimes I wish I could blog via telepathy! Have a glorious weekend xxx

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? 

chiffon ghosts presenting tributes

the dilemma behind shortlisting shoes

derelict markets

There are some things that seem to last forever; and no, they don't have to be diamonds of which their alleged perpetuity really is part of a clever DeBeers marketing campaign back in the day. I remember this bangle which I had at 2-- set in Indian stones which I used to play dress-up with. It remains near and dear to me. The Mother's collection of belts, too, which probably are older than I am-- gorgeous vintage exquisite leather belts that I know I should purchase rather than my nonsensical knockoffs. I remember wearing pom-pom or anklet socks as a child too-- something that could be found at every shop in some housing estate in Singapore, but now only to be found in sex stores online. Or the choker I made from fabric roses in pots at home whilst studying for my A-Levels, thereby rendering all the fake flower pots bald during that period. Slightly less far back in memories would be this dress. One morning in Brisbane my cousin and I hopped onto a train to the factory outlet complex. A few hours and kebabs later I left satiated whilst wondering how I would fit everything to bring to Melbourne. This dress was one of the hauls. I even remember that it was only AUD$10. That's how happy I was with it.

satin bangs

As I head towards my last few weeks of studies and put the finishing touches on my thesis, my personal photodiary is born. A cornucopia and repository of memories and places, people and smells, textures and sheens, flavours and thoughts. Quite possibly, chronologically displaced; a work-in-progress. A tribute to generations and years of clothes and shoes and bags-- however ancient, vintage, hand-me-down, a-few-seasons-ago, or spankin' new.

The mantra-- Everyday's a fashion parade ♥