the photo features Ms Rachel Nguyen of That’s Chic (http://www.thatschic.net). i love the different looks she comes up with on her blog– and i think she’s got a damn pretty face.
anyway, the point of this post, is really about me and my god-awful fashion sense. see, what brought upon this sense of self-awareness (to put it mildly) is because today the pea and i decided to take the morning easy and sleep in a little because its been a rough weekend and we’ve both been feeling peaky (and like come on, his work as a lawyer doesnt quite allow him to sleep in very much more). but you know how my schedule gets– i think my day is generally free then then it explodes (this morning at 7.30 my staff called in sick, then at 8 am, an unknown number who hung up, 8.45 am an officer for a random favour, then 9 am, (the blessed 9 am call) of my accountant who in very few words, blew my week’s plan to shreds because i need to put together some MORE files for her.
anyway, being sleepy and waiting for my tea, i decide to spend some time looking at the profiles of some of my childhood friends and hello, i spy the profile of a younger sister of a friend (she’s maybe 8 yrs younger) and let me tell you, i felt rather ashamed at my usual threadless shirt & 3 quarter pants & onizukas look that i seem to be sporting every day.
dont get me wrong, i love fashion, i really do. i just cant bring myself to be bothered. i wonder if it is left-over from those cedar days of overall bo-chup ness where we would go out in our house t-shirt and fbt shorts (but it can’t be– see jingxi’s shoe collection!). i mean the truth is, i have tons of clothes, but nothing to wear. you know what i mean. and all the mixing and matching and the accessorising. omg. it makes my eyes tear up just thinking about it.
would you believe i actually hate, no Hate (with the capital H) shopping for shoes. i Hate it. i really do. i dont enjoy wearing heels (the huffle says its cos i dont inately have a sense of balance), and i certainly don’t enjoy looking at these evil contraptions. the best i’ve give you are perhaps kitty heels or wedges (low).
and i went to new york twice in the last year and i spent a combined 1.5 months roaming the streets with some jingle in my pocket because i didnt have to pay for lodging (having a boyf doing his masters in NYC with his own apartment right next to greenwich village rocks) and i could find much to buy apart from basic shirts (ehhem) from uniqlo and tons of treadless online supersales t-shirts (ehhhemmm). when tyler and cais were around in the states (and trust me, those two can shop. the. whole. day. x 365 days) they bought tons of clothes, like tons. and i bought maybe 3 significant pieces? the rest were basics.
i do wish, i wish i wish i wish, that some miracle would hit me– the fashion bubble, perhaps and i would stop dressing like an hougang aunty. (my nagging brain inserts: haiyaaaa i am only going to camp whaaatt, and i work from home, who’s going to see my clothes..) case in point, at the point of writing, i am in my pyjamas.
i mean how come? how do they do it? wake up at 6 in the morning, choose clothes and make up and blow hair and choose shoes and match bag and find the accessories to go with it?! how is it done? dont even get me started on the face-cleansing routine. cleanse, tone, essense, lotion. (somewhere in the middle there’s softener, eye-brighter, fine lines reducer, spf…).
how do you guys do it??
not to mention all this f-ing weight i’ve put on because the boyf is back and since our only common interest is food, we eat and eat. two days ago, my helper giggled when she saw me watching tv in the living room with only my sports bra on, and told me when she was a month pregant, her tummy was still smaller than mine. my dad lovingly calls me shishamo. let me digress a little. i love my sports bras. i do. i’ve gotten into tons of fights with mum growing up (“sports bras make you flat” “they squish ur boobs down” ..) till now (“see la! who ask you to wear sports bras! now you got mosquito bites only” “have you seen mariann’s PAOs– because she listen to me and dont wear sports bras).. but how do you wear sports bras and dress up!
its times like these that i wish i were a boy. (and remind myself, sadly, of the little reminder Rachel Nguyen (the girl on in the picture) left on her blog a long while ago: flat is the new beautiful.)