Saturday, January 26, 2008  12:12 AM
Ice-cream dreams
Distinct voices
All too familiar words
I froze
I ran
--
There's a sweet simplicity in an ice-cream cone which brings out that child in you. I also happen to be one of the worst consumers of ice-cream, more often than not with chocolate dribbled all over my mouth and chin.
So that was me today while sourcing (I love sourcing because it's shopping on the job, although it's not really part of my job scope, but the new stylist needed help with the new spring/summer collection for April) - the girl in the wine-coloured heels, seven huge shopping bags and the ice-cream cone from Haato. And the loveliest Moschino umbrella in all its pale blue glory with gorgeous red roses splashed all over it, coupled with the cutest silver handle. I don't know how it'll be used in the spread, but I saw it and fell in love with it immediately and I knew it had to be featured somewhere. I really wanted to open it not withstanding the fact that I had no more hands to hold it and it costs a couple of hundred dollars, way too much for the bright sun to be shining its harmful rays on. Anyway, my point is, you lose that flamboyant, pompous or glamourous air with an ice-cream cone. It's the childish act of delightfully licking and being emotionally happy from the sugar highs it brings. Maybe that's why Magnum days were fun.
Can you imagine someone in a pristine white Chanel suit and Louboutins with an ice-cream cone? I suppose not. A bottle of San Pellegrino would perhaps be more befitting.
The ice-cream cone was probably the only me part in this whole array of events which happened. The slob beneath the exterior. I was carrying huge shopping bags containing bags, shoes and accessories close to ten thousand dollars from shops I never even knew existed in Singapore.
Later, I sat along Orchard Road with my bags surrounding me as I waited for one of my colleagues. I plugged into my iPod with my favourite Canto playlist and watched the world go by which is something I never get to do. It was a fun hour as I people-watched.
The five-year-old with the Victoria Beckham bob (she'll get the assymetrical soon), the mothers who just stepped out from the gym, the giggly Japanese schoolgirls, the happy mismatched couple and the old man with the plastic bag labelled 'Leaping Lizard' (I wonder what they sell there). And I knew people were watching me just like I was watching them. Many times their roving eyes moved surreptitiously to my seven branded shopping bags and then to me, with my trusty notebook. I wonder which stereotype they were mentally fitting me into.
Two people stopped to ask me for directions and advice and I felt like I was from the Singapore Tourism Board.
I was also secretly burning in my black leggings which I bought from Japan because my normal ones were too thin for the weather there. They were perfect for my igloo of an office. Instead, I was out in the thirty-degree sweltering heat. Fashion kills.
Still, I love this part of my job. It's extremely informative. Did you know there's a Manolo Blahnik store in Singapore with a 70% sale? Yes, I might own my very first pair soon - contributors, anyone?
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Thursday, January 10, 2008 2:49 PM
Best I ever had
If there were to be a "spinning" section on this post, it would be Vertical Horizon's "Best I Ever Had". I love how songs take you back to a distant memory, which you've all but forgotten except when the familiar tune and lyrics trigger it again like it was just yesterday. I remember every song sung at special moments, fleeting as it may have been. That flood of nostalgia and colourful images being fast-forwarded like on a reel of film: it seemed like a whole different life altogether.
That song brings me back to my sixteen-year-old days, swinging upside down from the metal bars at school with the sun fading beneath the clouds, without a care in the world. We were laughing and shouting every single word without really thinking about what we were singing.
But it's not so bad, you're only the best I ever had.
And as the years went by, there were more songs and more memories that were created and tucked away into that nice storage part of my brain that forgets till provoked. So I'm sitting here now wrapped in my sweater with the rain pouring outside, deadlines for six stories looming in front of me, half-consumed bubble tea keeping me going, and that same song playing in my head. It's a new memory created, with the exact same tune.
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Wednesday, January 02, 2008 2:11 PM
Magazine beginnings
I like it so far. I've spent the entire morning reading past issues of Female, Vogue, Glamour and Harper's Bazaar - basically the clutter that's left on my desk by the previous occupant. And that is actually part of my job. That's the best part of it all, that reading fashion and beauty magazines is within the job scope and I can do it freely and won't be seen as slacking off. Suddenly, the bylines I've been committing to memory come to life and faces are put to the names I gather from each issue - writers, editors, stylists and coordinators. I'm surrounded by tall, beautiful girls with fair skin and colourful outfits, women with bright purple hair and perfectly-accented English. Fashion is taken to a completely new level at this place. And they're nice. These women turn to little girls when someone buys in bubble tea for everyone because of the sad state of food provisions in this building. There is nowhere to eat in this area except for the canteen which has a grand total of two stalls. Maybe that's why everyone's so slim.
In a morning, I've educated myself on the art of blow-drying, this season's must-haves and the essence of bags and shoes. And a 42-page house style guide that reinforces everything we've learnt in journalism and more. Why didn't they throw this guide at us the first day we entered university - it tells you everything you need to know about writing. Who knew that karang guni is really spelt karung guni? It's chaise longue instead of chaise lounge, and Irish whiskey is spelt the way it is because although it is scotch and whisky, the Irish and people who drink the Irish version are fussy that it is spelt whiskey. Also, "irregardless" is not a word.
Lighthearted yet neutral, promote without sounding pushy, objectivity without putting readers to sleep are the few guidelines I picked up today. I can't wait to write. But at this point, I shall be contented with clearing the stuff under my desk. There's a whole stash of shoes, books and CDs which no one seems to want, although I can't exactly touch them. Whatever it is, I've already inherited a brand-new bikini, a pouch and a few t-shirts. And of course, the latest copy of Female.
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