passion is in fashion

NY Mag’s take

Fake Karl’s take

I rather enjoy the latter.

Image from www.nymag.com

The ultimate artifact of girls. In today’s blurring lines between male and female (as exemplified by the horrific rise of Agyness Deyn), I am more and more enticed by one beacon of womanhood — the bright red lipstick.

Having previously dabbled in Shu Uemura Lollishine Rouge in a cherry red shade and MAC Lipglass in Russian Red, I have to say, I love the look, but am not brave enough, or dress appropriately enough, to embrace it for everyday.

The lipstick has two purposes. One is, of course, to redden the lip to resemble whatever you will to attract whomever you will. The other, is simply to lend an air of little touches of beautiful useless luxury: when one reapplies after a meal, when one leaves a stain on glass, when one leaves a stain on a cheek. And for the record, I find smeared lipstick from kissing rather tacky.

Was never much a fan of eye makeup: I only love to adore pandas, not look like one. Nor am I a fan of all-over glitter, which runs rampant on my current little corner of the earth. That leaves the one feature I dare to exaggerate, the red lip. Timeless, seductive, and undoubtedly high maintenance.

Which lies in itself its other appeal, its constant reapplication. Beauty items are women’s number one aspirational item. For merely twenty dollars, one could own a little piece of Chanel. Ah the joy in whipping out red wax housed in sleek Chanel casing at a party. And I am not above this silly aspiration. What’s worse, am also guilty of even more dangerous ones.

Received a package today: Vanity Fair, New York, and FT inserts — How to Spend it, Life & Arts, and Travel Unravelled.

Love? Post-its on each one indicating which articles he thought I would like, and their page references.

So good, that I had to watch again. Wandered around by myself on Sunday, attacking happy massive chain establishments such as McDonald’s (McFlurry), Zara (ruffled white top and ballet flats), and Broadway Cinemas (Wall*e). I long awaited this movie and saw it shortly after it came out in HK, but alas, once was just not enough.

Fear: Trash. Corporate conglomerates. The environment.

Love: Making a little statue of Eve using scrap metal and two blue lightbulbs. Holding the umbrella out for her in the rain. Chasing her across the universe.

Cute: The way he says Waaaaaalll*e. The way he says Eeeevaa. Mo.

Typhoon 9, surprisingly. Was too scared to venture outside. Had been curled on my bed all day, reading Vanity Fair online (can’t wait to get it in hard copy!), and napping intermittently. But all was not well. Just when I was happily munching on the cookies my friend’s dad in Shanghai gave me, my building began to shake. A lot. A really strange feeling, when one’s apartment shakes. My reaction: call my loved ones to cry soft whimpers, and to bequeath my belongings to them.

I am one unsuited to passing tropical storms on my own. Am really scared of lightning, the big sounds that accompanies it a few second after. Apartment-shaking, however, brings it to a whole different ballgame! Realizing crying over the phone will not stop it from happening again in any way, I bravely ventured out to meet some friends who were similarly bravely out for a birthday celebration.

On the ground level, the wind was actually not bad. No shaking to speak of at all! I was happy. To my surprise, there was still an array of normal functions on a Friday night… bars, restaurants, friends who were joyously out doing all the same Friday night activities.

Typhoon was like stolen times. I was not expected to be anywhere and everybody was surprised that anybody else was out. A little bit of complicity there, strengthened further by working towards the common goal at the end of the night… negotiating with cabs.

Typhoon Nuri

A certain saying goes you are always the same person you were as a little child. I recently read it on a celebrity blog quoting Heidi Montag, that fascinatingly douchy character from the Hills. Not the first time I encountered the adage though, I previously learnt it in Social Psychology class backed with experimental evidence and all , but refused to believe it because it was inconvenient.

The truth is I was a horribly shy and timid child. Any occasions where strangers were involved were a source of great agony for me. I found solace in studying and drawing. Quite a poster child, I was, even if I did not excel at performance of child-like skills in front of a roomful of guests, or charm them with my child-like cuteness. I would like to think that now, with my great growth, I am no longer this little mouse who would rather hide in the room to read or draw entire books of imaginations, but I fear perhaps I still am.

There is no denying that in today’s world we favor those who are outgoing and have many friends. Never Eat Alone is an example of our current championship of this character trait (and its rather repulsive results). In fact, all of my best friends are those who are ultra-popular because I seriously admire this quality in them. Still, a little tinge of uncertainty overcomes me when I am without a best friend. Facing the world is a little tougher with those things, best friends.

Thank god. I do believe in faking it until you make it. I work in a superficial industry after all. I am ultra-outgoing these days, talk to people easily, and often with charming wit. Overcompensation, I believe.

Enough of these futile concerns about my own social behavior. As you can see I am still an insecure little nerd deep down inside, even if I have traded my indie albums, European novels, and dark-rimmed glasses for shiny strapless dresses, three-inch heels, and a public persona to match.

One thing that did remain the same, as I recently noticed as the Fall/Winter collections roll out, is my preference for color. Always love purple and fuschia when I was in primary school. Took a break from them and denied myself in high school and college, deeming those colors to be too bright, too feminine, and too common like what girls from the countryside would like. Ah, gone are my sophomoric evaluations of these two beautiful jewel tones. I must say, for as much black and white I wear, I will always name these two colors if a six year old ever happen to ask me again, what my favorite color is. And just like when I was six years old, I will find it hard to choose and quote her both colors, even if she just asked for one.

Maybe the rumors are true.

Carla Bruni in Dior

Cameron Diaz also in Dior

Yet another step into adulthood just last week. A little boring, otherwise not too bad. In the beginning, was a little uncertain, a little scared. Although am a frequent cross-Atlantic traveler, the concept of traveling not for pleasure or schooling was completely foreign. The difference being mainly, I guess, to accomplish goals which are definitely concrete yet seem a little distant from my own. A bit like a messenger.

She was dressed in a printed woven dress, big leather belt, and flip flops with mismatched print.  Bright red lips with otherwise minimal makeup.  Hilarious story-teller, and there were many stories to tell.  Highly whimsical but clearly one with strong conviction and determination.  

Main takeaway: do whatever you want.  

Main caveat: make sure you have a circumspect and supportive accountant husband behind all of it.