Wednesday, 23 July 2014

White like a Virgin






We've seen the ubiquitous black that has become a normality for French style (and your style, my style, every-other-human-being-out-there's style in one period of time, or probably just on a black tie occasion; no pun intended). Black is straightforward and concise, you don't even have to question its succinctness to be actually baffled by its effortlessness. Black emanates simplicity, yet it is infused with certain inexplicable complexity that allows one to radiate a certain mysterious vibe. And in order to emit such aura to attract others (or to pleasantly satisfy oneself), we consume more black till it has become inevitable in our lives. Give yourself this challenge: try not spotting black on someone's entire outfit (inclusive of arm accoutrements, shoes, bags or even hair colour). I doubt it's possible, no? If you've successfully managed to spot one, go up to them and question: "Why not black today?" It seems like no matter how humid and hot summer emits, black is still ineluctable. Black has become an indispensable part in our lives. Black is like, everything.

No wait, is it really everything?

What about the other colours? What about blues, greens, browns and hazels? Why do we repetitively consume black instead of the other array of colours that are readily available to our acquisition? Since black is a colour, or lack thereof, at the tail of the spectrum, so why do we not opt for its far end (or far front) counterpart? Aka white? Isn't white a perfect replica of black - similar in its ideology of 'lack of colour'?

Whilst black emanates the two Cs: Cool and Classy, white radiates the other two Cs: Compose and Clean. When you put on, let's say a white jumpsuit, you subconsciously happen to find yourself very composed, calm and at ease. You feel like you're together as one with serenity. You could stop by the park to listen to the birds saccharine chirps. You could even accomplish your work or task on time without being stressed for the very first time. Don't you think so?

When I speak of 'clean', I don't mean clean as in spotlessness; I meant clean cut. I think we're just naturally inclined to believe that one appears immaculate with the use of white fabrics. It's like "Oh, seems like Sally had taken a bath three hundred times since this morning." or "Clumsy Chloe didn't spill her soup today!" or "Hey, Barbara actually remembered her tampon!"

But the sad reality is that we aren't immaculate with white fabrics. We often spill ketchup on our white crisp shirt, trip over our heels and fall into a puddle of mud, having sweat stains in our underarm area (it's really inevitable during summer, right?) that eventually turned yellowish green and even carelessly perching our asses on a bench that highlighted in caps: 'DO NOT SIT, WET PAINT'. We're much more naturally inclined to ruining our white garments, especially during summer.

So why is it that white is still the perfect colour for summer? If we are constantly leading our white clothes to extinction with our perspiration and negligence, why do we still continuously acquire them? Is it our guilty pleasure? Or is it just our pleasant guilt to replenish them once we've used them out (aka destroyed and tarnished them after the second usage)? I think it's the alabaster airy fabrics that reminds us of our inner peace and pure innocence. We feel relaxed and confident that we'll conquer the world today. We feel like we're back to our gullible child-like state - that we start to believe we're all innocuous virgins.

Lol, I kid.

Why not let's start throwing away the idea of staining our shirts - especially our underarm arena - by faithfully cleansing our armpits regularly and inaugurate whites into our summer? We can always keep our blacks for winters and go: "I wanna be a virgin today!"

First look: Zara linen embellished shirt, Zara pajamas pants, Charles & Keith sandals, Monki bag and Topshop scarf.
Second look: Feist from feistheist.com shirt (hey, it draws close resemblance to "Business up the front, party at the back!"), Uniqlo shorts, Bimba & Lola espadrille sandals.

Image credits Imran

Sunday, 20 July 2014

The Shirt Dress (Or Dress Shirt?)






Last Tuesday I thought it'll be cool to teeter around in one of the dresses (actually correction, it's the only one I've ever purchased by far) I bought from H&M. It was three sizes too huge, hence adding on emphasis to the conjectured term 'oversized' in the whole ideology of 'dresses are oversized t-shirts' (coined by me) because I speculate that dresses are simply and merely baggy, oversized t-shirts because 1) one is to lazy to wear pants or 2) one couldn't even bother to put on shorts either. Great invention!

Kudos to the creator of dresses. And sorry for that long blabber of nonsensical verbal diarrhoea.

Here's the real question: Why do we even wear dresses? Is it because girls desire to look more feminine - radiating that inner damsel self - when it comes to a dinner date with their Mr Big so that it sexually and sartorially appeal to the opposite gender? Or is it because dresses (think gowns) are deemed as a better option to appear on red carpet because it channels class and composure? Or is it simply because, as aforementioned, one is simply too lazy to put on some pants? Then why put on safety shorts instead? Why not go commando?

So why waste money on buying pants if we can cover and conceal our breasts and butts with one piece on clothing instead of two? And isn't it sartorially more demeanour and pleasant for the opposite sex to eventually sexually indulge and further desire us? That's killing two birds with one stone! But are we all going on a financial compensation and being a Samantha Jones?

Try to foresight this: After two years, you eventually got more successful - and hence, richer - and our Mr Big becomes our Mr no-Big-deal-if-you-repelled (it would've been best if you repelled other men's attention), does that mean that all our dresses will seek out to Salvation Army? Does it mean you have to sacrifice your favourite boxy breton striped dress you painstaking acquired it three years ago from Zara (that was the dress that got away, it didn't exist in Singapore, boohoo!) just because your phased out of wearing dresses? What if you and your dress are inseparable? I know that in my case, as dresses emanate a more effeminate feel - which oppose to my man repelling ways and my notion of 'Dressing up for myself and not for the comfort of others' - and that my clothes and I are usually inherently integral, I thought: "Why save money (and then waste money) and attract boys when I can further repel myself?" After some critical suggestion and shorts (or pants), here's what I propose.

Wear the dress once. Then twice. Then thrice. If you've out won yourself in cogitating ways to work a dress as a dress itself every time, then congratulations! Carry on for multiple times. Once you've outworn and worn out your brain cells, you then carry on to put some jeans on (or shorts, if you feel like doing so). Slip on your favourite shoes (In my case, it's none other than my Superga) and carry your favourite minaudière for confidence. Remember to accessorise as well.

Tada! Don't you feel victorious? Do you really need to toss that dress into charitable organisations? How do you feel about yourself now? Any sense of accomplishment? Oh, psst, you can also get inspired from the above images of Leandra herself.

H&M Spring 2014 tassel denim dress, Zara jeans which I had to snatch it away from a b*tch (lol, jk, I waited for her to discard it after she tested them on), Man Repeller x Superga satin sneakers, Zara clutch.

Image credits Imran

Thursday, 17 July 2014

The 40 Year Old Virgin





Okay, I take that back. You might not be a virgin. But you are forty.

So let's picture this: What if one fine day, whilst strolling through Central Park, you envisioned this: "After forty years venturing on a planet called Earth - which included travelling of various countries and finally settling on New York - strangely and unluckily, you never met Mr Big. Despite the bizarre encounters with that French, Spanish, Brazillian and Italian men you had during your journey to pursuit for the geographically cozy and ideal settlement, they were not giving you that Mr Big vibe - they were slanted more towards Aidans and Aleksandr Petrovskys.

Just when you've decided to give up hope, you glanced upon a relatively familiar silhouette that reflected upon The Lake. You were baffled. You couldn't believe who you saw.

It was a reflection of yourself. Just then you had this idea: "If there are no existing decent forty something year old single men, why not just marry yourself?"

That gave you a perfect excuse for purchasing that overly costly and extravagant Giambattista Valli shirt-meets-tulle dip dyed yellow couture gown. Not to mention you might even want to turn up in that Alexander McQueen lacey gown from fall too. You think that purchasing two gowns is irrational, but who would (or could) even stop you from doing so? Even your other half (self) agrees to your achievements.

Imagine if you had an extended after party, you then need to change out into something more comfortable, but you'd want to have a gown on still. You could either take that creamish pink Delpozo gown, or that colourfully striped Rosie Assoulin dress. What if you wanted both? Could yourself stop your-self?

Eventually, you succumbed to the temptations and lies that you tell yourself "I'll wear this dress again" and bought all. Would you scold yourself, or would your other self agree to your actions?

Images via style.com & moda operandi

Monday, 14 July 2014

You're My Only Shorty





Someone once mentioned: "Why are you always in covered trousers?"

My default reply is (and most probably will be for quite a period of time), "I forgot to shave."

Albeit shaving isn't my forte (epilating actually is), I did teeter myself once by slotting my hairy legs into that huge orifice which then would gradually split into two. I got judged - despite being a specimen with no boobies and having a penis - because of faux fur hankering on my legs. I was bashful and embarrassed. I couldn't conceal my hairy legs with my shorts, neither could I rush back home to get changed. I was like a patty - stuck in the middle. Lol okay, that was not a good imagery.

I couldn't help but wonder: Why do society judge so much despite it being a lazy summer?

Regardless or not if I'd have my legs shaved, if summer is getting too summer, shouldn't I face reality and opt for the best alternative, aka shorts? Alongisde with Mr Fuzzy?

As according to images above, and in ascending hem line:

The first shows my overly exploited white t-shirt from COS, paired with the shortest red chino shorts you can ever find in Topman (thanks to rolling them up like a hundred times), with my current to-go-if-I-don't-know-which-to-use Zara doctor bag and matched it up with a similar tan (not to be confused with shitty shade) hue ASOS brogues.

Next, with my everlasting penchant for denim, who could've thought I would've left my Topman denim cut-offs out from this post??? Nah, I've decided that it shouldn't be rolled up so that the raw hems could be seen (I snipped it from a pair of unworn jeans and distressed it myself; with the help of the washer and a pair of scissors) and paired it with my Candela emerald velvet flats that succumbed to puke the very next day (!!!!!) and a drawstring embroidered purse with tassels from Zara.

Following the next comes along a cerulean tailored shorts from H&M Men's (I can actually fit their sizes?! Isn't this a miracle?) with a suede-ish feel. But what actually compelled me into purchasing it? It was on god-damn SALE suede-ish. I had to play with textures by pairing the satin Man Repeller x Superga sneakers and since this look is by far, excessively manly, I thought: "No bags, put on my Ray-Bans instead".

Finally, the finale, in contrasting with the aforesaid third image, I've decided to embrace my man repelling side with this Zara (Woman's) charcoal drawstring berms that brought about a lil' sport-ish feel. But what is man repelling without an vaginal printed ASOS clutch and a pair of espadrille sandals from Bimba & Lola? Do I repel now????

So what do you think? Yay, or nay?

Image credits Imran

Friday, 11 July 2014

Are We Over-Alls?




Last week I've decided to march in my Monki overalls I got from a visit in Hong Kong. It felt like polyester, but it wasn't polyester. Neither was it in my perpetually-love-and-to-die-for scabrous denim. It was soft and cushiony. It caressed my skin well that spring in Hong Kong, and it did so too now (especially in this heat ugh, it feels so good to be in something lightweight). I introspected myself in the mirror, in the overalls. "Wow, I look amaze-to-the-zing", I perceived. Suddenly, it struck to my mind.

What happened to the proliferated trend of overalls that seemed to be omnipresent three months ago?

They say that "fashions fade, style is eternal". In our existing context whereby trends are, the truth, subsets of fashion (trends usually follow after fashion, right? Trendy = fashionable), does it mean that trends are bound to evanesce? But what if, in certain aspects of other individuals' lives, when we see things at another angle, whereby trends are subsets of their style (think 90s, all black, monochromatic trend could be one's entire closet and hence, style), does this mean that trends are still pathed to dissipate? But if there are existing people with styles that cater to a particular trend, why do trends still fade?

I couldn't help but wonder: Was our perpetually hasty consuming habits causing trends to end up being a farewell (with hugs and kisses, if required to be a lil' more dramatic) denouement? Was it also because that the majority's mindset was 'fashion equals trend'? If so, why?

I deduced this theory: If one could emulate their favourite runway show/idol/celebrity by just merely purchasing that particular garment (especially after they wore it, and it being extremely affordable due to fast fashion aka high street labels knock offs; which eventually turned out even better than the actual designer's designs), why not?

Could this be the exact reason to why the hue 'oxblood' was a hit two fall/winter seasons ago (even though it sounded like literal ox's blood, and even in the resembling similarities between oxblood and ox's blood) and the utiltarian trend was bombing the entire street style last winter, but not now? Was it because designers feed the masses with too much fashion trends that, indirectly ended up conveying the message which asserted: 'If you don't work this *insert trend here* trend this coming season, you're not fabulous nor chic'?

Is life really a literal runway runway? And if so (or not), are we over overalls?

Despite those who swiftly ingurgitate new trends and having the old ones shifted out of their closets and into Salvation Army, there are a handful amount of individuals that still abide towards their style. But does it mean that they, absolutely, do not conform to fashion trends? We all know that in some ways, we subconsciously pursue (albeit sometimes persecute, life's that cut throat, yeah?) fashion trends whilst not keeping off tracking with our style. Think chaperoning black sneakers into one's 'black and only black' style, or welcoming logos and motifs into another's grunge style.

So which category do I fall under? Fashion trend, or style trend? Neither could I derive to a conclusion. It would be a blatant lie if I alledged "I'm all about my style", neither would it be right if I conjected "fashion only, style is ephemeral". I believe I oscillate equally between both.

(Marni x H&M sunglasses, Monki black overalls, Zara Men's breton t-shirt, Charles & Keith strappy sandals, PS1 clutch from Proenza Schouler)

Images done by Big from iPhone 5S