Sunday, April 11, 2010  2:04 AM
Telltale perfection
I could read this page over and over. My goosebumps appear and a comforting warmth courses through my body at the delightful font and layout, and words that speak to me like when one reaches the pinnacle of understanding, but thirsts for more.
0 comment(s). Your thoughts?
Tuesday, March 23, 2010 4:24 PM
iTraditional
I am sitting at Starbucks amidst arty professionals and studious boys on their Macbooks (everyone has an Apple computer these days), a lone couple who have come in to read the newspapers and enjoy a chocolate fudge cake together, and out of the corner of my eye, two nubile uniform-clad girls sharing a muffin. They carry backpacks and look barely into their teens. I also see my neighbour, just a year younger than I am, who always brings a different boy home every time I bump into her in the elevator. This time, she’s with two boys and they both look enamored. My favourite barista just walks in; she smiles and waves at me. She has new bangs. I love people-watching. As I was walking here earlier this afternoon, I thought about how the iPhone has taken over the world. It has undeniably made life easier with the multitude of applications that are downloadable off App Store but do we really need those things? I am an iPhone lover myself, and yes I love the fact that Coffee Finder helps me get to my nearest frothy cup of iced green tea latte, and how my Facebook app means I’m connected to my friends all the time. Style.com is my favourite app for many reasons, of which I shouldn’t start naming but one being it keeps me awake during especially dry sermons on Sunday mornings. Daytrotter gives me alternative music whenever I want it and the eBay app means I’ll never lose another bid again. But I miss the simplicity and endless possibilities before apps infiltrated itself into almost every single conversation I have, how I can go out with a bunch of people and everyone is hooked on their iPhone and we end up sitting there and not talking, how we meet up to play games on our iPhones instead of having one meaningful conversation that I’ll always remember. So on days like these when I’m given the luxury to people-watch instead of fiddling with another iPhone app or texting non-stop to other iPhone users on What’s App, I’m feeling strangely happy. This is one of the few reasons why I believe strongly in print journalism, and thumbing through pages of bound books in a public library. Not everything should move on with technology and times, because we’ll then become a society only connected by the World Wide Web and not any other means. You lose the ability to communicate. I recently watched “Up in the Air”, and they championed firing people through a webcam or text message. Can you imagine living in a society like that? Or breaking up with someone over email? That’s one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone. You also become reliant on things that you will flail without – for example, my father is married to his GPS, while I have a love-hate relationship with it. I never use it unless I really need to, because I get annoyed at its mechanic voice telling me to “turn right in 500 metres”, when it really means 100 metres. This means that my father cannot get anywhere new without his trusty guide, and what’s worse, even when I know better, he listens to the GPS instead of me, which results in yet another argument. The day his GPS dies on him, he’ll be lost, in all meanings of the word. I miss the days where I’d hang out with someone and we won’t be interrupted by another text message, or sit through dinner comparing apps and what’s the next cool thing to download, or not have a stupid argument with my best friend telling her to put away her iPhone because it’s stealthily stealing her away from me. I’m traditional and I think I could live without all these things. But maybe I’m on my own. Two uniform-clad boys have just come in to pick up the two young uniform-clad girls. They leave together and I see the baristas behind the counter shaking their heads and sighing, “Young and carefree.” As I watch the teenagers leave, I wonder why they’re even hanging out at a coffee joint. Because when I was their age, the place to be was McDonalds at King Albert Park or Burger King in town. We didn’t have money for expensive coffee. I’m not even thirty yet and I’m already shaking my head at the younger generation. Even my grandmother is cooler than me. She talks to teenagers at the bus stop all the time. I wouldn’t.
0 comment(s). Your thoughts?
Monday, March 22, 2010 1:23 AM
Give me a junkyard and bright Louboutins
I've been wedding blog surfing, given the spate of weddings I have to attend this year. Ruffled (http://ruffledblog.com) is a vintage wedding blog that puts together all sorts of quirky ideas, unique handcrafts and a smattering of one-of-a-kind photo shoots in every place imaginable. Many breathy sighs later, I'd like my wedding to be a mesh of all these:
 The highlight of my outfit will be my shoes.
 Flowy dress, stroll through long grass. Make sure it's not done locally or the mosquitoes will have a feast.
 Splash of colour with furniture and cushions in the wild.
 Random junkyard, grey overtones. I've always liked grey.
 Black gloves are a must.
 A Twiggy-inspired lace dress. I'm not crazy about the dress, but check out her bouquet. Exactly what I want: freshly-picked with stems trimmed, no ribbon, no foil, no frills.
sigh
sigh
sigh
1 comment(s). Your thoughts?
Friday, March 19, 2010 2:29 AM
Running up that hill
It must be a very sweet feeling to be carried on the shoulders of the one you love at a music gig.
That was the main thing that struck me tonight while watching Placebo at Fort Canning, amidst the bobbing, singing, dancing, plastic cups of beer, Molko's insanely amazing voice and several wayward Caucasians.
The poor boyfriend though. I wonder how fun it was for him. But she - in a powder blue tank and black jeans with cool Carey Mulligan hair - raised her hands in the air, laughed and swayed on his shoulders and had the best view of anyone else in the crowd. I was very envious.
I've gone for more music gigs this year than I have watched television. Times have changed. I'm suddenly hooked on live crooners and the adrenaline rush of being there right in front of them and appreciating music from the beat of the drums to the bass to one tiny strum from the guitar. I also wish I were more musically inclined, so I can actually express what I'm hearing with the right words.
Still, thank you to everyone who has made me a mixtape in the last few months - denise, rongjun, jeff, faizal, bev, cheryl - you have contributed much to my musical influence and somehow made a strange difference in my life.
0 comment(s). Your thoughts?
Friday, March 12, 2010 11:22 AM
Fall for a fashion designer
 Hussein Chalayan Fall 2010
 Haider Ackermann Fall 2010
With the new blog up, I can now focus on other topics of interest here - fashion randoms, celebrity infidelity, earthquakes and tsunamis and pickings from the human mind, perhaps. We'll see. I also need to do something about this blog template because I think it's impeding the way I write. Any takers?
--
Fall trends this year are quite the myriad of sculptural lapels, structured coats and arched shoulders. I took an eyeful of a journey from the safe staples of Maison Martin Margiela to blazers with strategic cut-outs exposing slivers of skin from Alexander Wang. Christopher Bailey and his giant-collared shearlings and overcoats for Burberry Prorsum to Yves Saint Laurent's seventies-influenced shapes with capes and mid-calf skirts, painted statement black with nary a glimpse of grey.
Speaking of mid-calf skirts, Marc Jacobs played on the A-line this year with a modern update on the classic silhouette, and included in his repertoire ankle socks and tweedy grey culottes - giving new meaning to irreverence as he shimmies away from his enjoyably psychedelic spring collection.
I wonder how all these designers seem to come together in a meeting of the minds and decide that structured coats and A-line skirts make the hit list of Fall 2010. Is there a fashion bible out there which I'm unaware of?
But the two shows that left the most impression on me were the lower-key designers Haider Ackermann and Hussein Chalayan. Ackermann with his play on futurism, his signature structured loops and folds artistically executed, and Chalayan, playing homage to the late Alexander McQueen as he takes a ride on the wild side with an avalanche of headpieces and glitter ensembles.
What fun, what fun. I write about this all from my bed in a ten-year-old nightgown worn so often the material has achieved a new level of softness. Elmo peeks out from the front of it and waves. Miles apart from the haute couture on my screen. Perhaps fashion designers have mornings like this too, you think?
0 comment(s). Your thoughts?
Thursday, March 04, 2010 4:00 AM
Fly me to Space
Don’t let his flamboyant get-up or his affiliation with Lady Gaga sway you into thinking Space Cowboy is yet another diva. In fact, he’s just the opposite; if this big-hearted musician were to own a planet in space, he would welcome anybody on it. “I would invite you!” says Nick Dresti with an affable laugh. Known more popularly as Space Cowboy, this talented DJ, producer and singer is true to his moniker with his love for futuristic things and fascination with space travel. “That’s a really interesting question actually. What about you?” He then poses the question back to me, intrigued, as I fumble for an answer. Throughout the 20-minute press conference at Bershka at Ion Orchard, Space Cowboy managed to dispel every single pre-conceived notion I had of him and paint a very real picture of the person he is. The 34-year-old appeared shy but polite, averting emcee Annabelle Francis’ gaze whenever she engaged him in playful banter. One-on-one however, and he’s as warm as his bright red equestrian-like outfit, putting you at ease almost instantly. Perhaps this explains his preference for a behind-the-scenes role as Lady Gaga’s personal DJ. But when it comes to questions about his controversial co-worker, Space Cowboy is obliging but tight-lipped. When asked if Lady Gaga is as wild as she dresses, his answer is a deadpan yes. When asked to talk about her style, he replies immediately, “It’s great, I love it.” However, when questioned instead about whether he could see at the recent 2010 Grammy Awards as his view was blocked by Lady Gaga’s massive headpiece, his eyes crinkle up into slits as he shakes his head vehemently. “No, I really couldn’t! It was impossible,” says the first-timer to Singapore with a chuckle. “You should have been there!” Space Cowboy is possibly the most glaringly honest celebrity I have ever encountered. He offers rehearsed replies to run-of-the-mill questions. But ask him something different about his life and he’ll open up like an unearthed pearl. And what’s not to love about him: When a world-famous musician removes his captain hat and places it on your head during a photo opportunity and doesn’t give two hoots about hat hair, but tells you instead that “it doesn’t matter, as long as you look great”, one begins to wonder if Space Cowboy should really be called Down to Earth instead. *For more pictures and the location of the original article, click http://onesixtynotepad.blogspot.com/2010/02/interview-space-cowboy.html -- On another note, I have a new blog! Created mainly for more personal musings; but only if you ask for it.
0 comment(s). Your thoughts?
Monday, January 18, 2010 12:23 PM
Wired tape
I like how music always has a way of reaching into an untapped part of your being and retrieving memories so entrenched I've thought them forgotten. They form a colourful puzzle of people and places that piece together to form my life. Morbidness aside, I imagine the last few minutes before death to be a fastforwaded saturated film reel and a cacophony of musical notes.
This morning's spins as I daydreamed:
In For The Kill - La Roux: shopping at H&M Ginza, and letting the energy from the song penetrate as I danced and weaved through the insane crowd after a sleepless 36 hours
Hysteric (acoustic) - Yeah Yeah Yeahs: my first yyys song, and before I even knew the title, I pleaded Denise before the day began to "please play my good morning song!" as the perfect cure to gloomy mornings
C.S. Lewis Song - Brooke Fraser: singing in the car with RJ past midnight along the expressway either to or from the airport. "This is my favourite song; I listen to it when I'm sad. Did you know it's a Christian song? Ironic, right."
Collie Man - Slightly Stoopid: i think of giraffes and free-roaming tigers. All because this is Bev's South African song, and she got me so influenced I imagine myself there when I listen to it even though technically, that never happened
Don't Wait - Dashboard Confessional: a suitor once sent this to Julienne, and she forwarded it to me three years ago. I picture that suitor now in a Zegna suit holding out a corsage
God Bless the USA - Lee Greenwood: overnight KTV in Hong Kong, when Deb, Esther, Bev and I changed the lyrics to fit singapore and filmed ourselves singing and doubling over in laughter. "And I'm proud to be a singaporean, where at least I know I'm kiasu, and I won't forget Lee Kuan Yew, who gave that right to me, and I'll gladly queue up next to you..." We were possibly high on an overdose of golf-ball sized wontons
Broken Strings - James Morrison feat Nelly Furtado: UK Road Trip. We played this song numerous times and each time Paul would go, "I like this song! Who sang it ah?", to which either Sara/Esther/Me would say, "James Morrison, you asked this question before once/twice/three times."
Wannabe - Spice Girls: dressed as the spice girls on our way to a themed birthday party. "Do you think we're overdressed?" "What if we're the only ones dressed up?" "Never mind, I think we will WIN." "What do you think the prize is?" "I hope topshop vouchers." Ginger Spice: "I look like a hooker la."
Your Heart Is An Empty Room - Death Cab for Cutie: i like playing this song in the office because Sam knows all the lyrics. She sings it like a consolation as she stands in front of my table and scowls at the newspaper as she works the scanner, her best enemy
Human - The Killers: "Are we human, or are we dancer? What is dancer? It doesn't make sense grammatically!" I cannot remember who said this, but it took place in someone's car outside Ion Orchard
Use Somebody - Kings of Leon: skipping along the bridge at changi village on New Year's Day making up the lyrics as we went along and only repeating confidently the first line
Tiffany Blews - Fall Out Boy: this was so 2009 for me. Bev and I blasted this song countless times, only shouting at the top of our lungs during the chorus, "oh baby you're a classic, like a little black dress!!!"
All My Only Dreams - The Wonders: KL and Genting 2005, the huge white bed and starbucks at night while pretending to blow out smoke. I also picture Luq in his trucker cap.
Unintended - Muse: one balmy night when I ran downstairs to lie by the pool, stared into the blanket of stars and cried
Pretty Boy - M2M: secondary 3 on the overnight sleeper train in China. Ling and I sang it from the top bunks only to annoy the bottom-bunk sleepers to prevent them from sleeping if we couldn't
My Heart & I Decided - Ella Fitzgerald: Christmas trees at Ginza, 9 degree weather, walking aimlessly, my mauve trench coat and standing in front of the Chanel window display
The Shadow Proves The Sunshine - Switchfoot: studying in the CI club room in school on the 5th floor with Felicia before class, her dozing off, me trying to explain the lyrics of the song to her and playing Pachelbel's Canon in D on the electronic keyboard when she fell asleep
Heartbreaker - Mstrkrft: zouk last year when Jan waved Mstrkrft away because she thought they were imposters trying to take pictures with us. All she managed to say to save her own skin was, "Hello" and a handshake, instead of "Yes, I'd be honoured to take a picture with you!"
2 comment(s). Your thoughts?
|
|
