Maybe I just have to accept that I’ll never be a gung-ho traveller.
March 19, 2009
Bagaholic? Hell Yeah!
I have never actually seen a girl who isn’t a bagaholic. If I have to define ‘bagaholic’ simply, it would be a person who buys bags and might even choose bags over clothes (although in my case, I am many-a-holic. I have come to classify myself under ‘Shopaholic’ to make explaining easier).
You see, every little thing you wear and carry tells a part of yourself to the world who sees you. The clothes, the shoes, the bag, the accessories .. that’s what I love about people-watching especially women in general (and no, I do not sway that way). The all black ensemble, depending how the ensemble was mixed and matched usually means one of the three listed:
1. a woman who is too lazy or clueless on how to mix and match and therefore stuck to the safest combination of black
2. a woman who indulges in the ‘Class’ (with a Capital C) act
3. a woman so lacking in confidence that she tries to appear as inconspicuous as possible
I usually prefer understated pieces with a dash of colour so as not to appear overly-flashy. I tend to like colours a little too much on occasions. I go for a black dress with a sudden burst of coloured bracelet or a plain black camisole with an interesting, detailed drape. I have also tried to substitute dark gray as the new ‘Black’. Over the years, I have come to learn not to over-accessorize but stick to one or two staple pieces to develop a style I call my own, so much so that when my friends see something in the shops, they will instantly think of me and know how well I would wear it.
Bags rule the world because you don’t have to fit into them like shoes or clothes. You just carry them. You’ll always berate a bag that is too big, too small, not of the right colour or texture, not of the correct number of compartments, not of any logical reason you can find other than just because its justified imperfection allows you to buy the next bag … and the next …
As for bags, I like mine roomy simply because I carry way too much junk for them to be delicate and structured plus I found a little comfort in an organized mess that no one understands. I even think it’s adorable how I fail to find something in my bag and throw my hands up in exasperation, only not at that point in time but during the aftermath of the incident. Too many friends have too neat a bag that it unnerves me. The tissue holder goes to the right of the bag, the wallet to the left, the camera fits nicely behind the tissue holder and the makeup pouch lies horizontal and exactly perpendicular to the umbrella that’s stuck at 90 degrees. Where’s the fun of knowing exactly where everything is? Where’s the rush of adrenaline in wondering if you brought out something important? Where’s the famous movie action of starting to empty out your bag onto a side pavement in a bid to look for a ringing phone? A bag is an integral part in completing a look and the bag that would be the most used for me is the versatile carry-all that seems to fit right with any outfit.
Sofia Coppola’s collaboration with Louis Vuitton- the SC bag
And no, I am not doing an advertorial for it but I wish I am because then I get to own this gorgeous specimen of a bag which is everything I look for in a bag. In fact, the day I get to own it, I would hold it reverentially with my two hands and feast my eyes on the beauty and perfection of its leather texture and shapely curves with the discreet stamp of two defining words ‘Louis Vuitton‘ imprinted delicately on it. Nothing about the SC bag would ever scream “Brand Whore!” to the masses like how its monogram counterparts would due to their over-popularity. Don’t get me wrong – there are times I actually like some of these repetitive designs but never have I felt sorely compelled to join in mass worship.
But I am now.
These pictures are great. It’s the Sofia Coppola’s lifestyle and how she uses her bag. What’s not to like about her?
When the work is done and she goes out to play,
she leaves the SC and brings the clutch instead.
All my love to this bag and the corresponding clutch, so beautiful and unattainable at SGD5,900 and SGD2,200 respectively.
Don’t show me if you are lucky enough to land on one of these … because I cannot promise not to resist the urge to snatch, run, hop on a bus and never come back.
December 28, 2008
The Green Dress
It hid shyly behind the other wooly, sequinned forms of its kind, ashamed of its brightness, feeling slightly vulgar and out of place. With the fact that Christmas is now officially over and moving onto the New Year, it felt even more conspicuous amidst the blacks and grays.
“Why couldn’t I be a shiny shade of black or a sophisticated colour of gray?” it thought miserably, wedging further into the racks, hoping that no one would disturb its hiding place. Sinking deeper into its own thoughts of self-pity, it hardly noticed a girl yanking it out into the spotlight. Caught in surprise and being in the dark for too long, it suddenly became dizzy and the world started spinning out of control while the girl whooped in delight, running her hands over its corseted spine, sending delicious shivers into the folds of its being.
Before it could say “Hallelujah!”, the girl clutched it tightly into an embrace and headed for the fitting room. Here it heard her whisper “Please, let me fit. Let me be able to have the choice to buy or not buy you.” For the first time, it looked earnestly at the girl. She has a mass of black hair down her back and the longest lashes ever seen, casting a fringe of shadow over her pleading eyes. It also noticed that the girl is rather plump in shape and would not fit the other svelte versions of its kind. It liked how the girl enfolds it in warmth. It liked how the girl looks at it in admiration. To a dress who felt inferior for a long time, it felt accepted for the first time.
When the girl tried to stretch into its fabric, it did its best to accomodate her but it turned out to be rather futile. The girl slid easily into it and stared at the mirror for a long time. Breaking into smiles, the girl started twirling round and round in the little enclosed space and when she finally stopped, she looked into the mirror at the green dress again.
“You are perfect.”
