Tuesday, 7 October 2014

Get ripped

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 Photos by Fendi Yasuda

Ripped denim.

I'm not quite sure when the notion of tearing apart perfectly decent pieces of the material or wearing said form of material turned into a *cringe* trendy thing. Perhaps it simply started off with someone who had worn their particular denim piece to shreds. Or hey maybe they were too lazy to fix the holes in their clothes! Oh oh, maybe their clothes chewed out by an animal...

At this point I should probably stop playing the hypothetical game and just cut to the chase - it's time to get ripped. 

Whenever the teen angst/urge to feel badass hits (that which I am clearly not. The ol' street cred needs some leveling up), I tend to gravitate to these thrifted (for $5!!!!! Possibly my greatest achievement in life so far) boyfriend jeans that were kind of shredded and roughened up on a whim. So on this fine day and much to the Mother's dismay, I played up the edgier side of things with a side-slit tunic, chunky, clunky boots, and piled on the neck pieces.

"Why do you like wearing things that make you look pregnant?"

I honestly don't know, Ma, but I just think there's something weirdly liberating and sexy about wearing clothes that aren't necessarily form-fitting or flattering to the female shape. I'd like to think it shows more body confidence, as compared to wearing articles of clothing that scream boobs, butt, and flat tummy. Then again I might just do it to hide inevitable food babies. Call me crazy?

But anyway, back to ripped denim.

Go grungy and gritty or grown up and glamourized. It's really more versatile than everyone thinks. These may look like "hobo" pants to some but man are they gonna have a home in my closet for a long time.

Wearing Monki tunic, thrifted & DIYed boyfriend jeans and skull arm cuff, H&M boots, Theblackacc sun&moon choker, Forever21 layered necklaces, random leopard clutch

Saturday, 4 October 2014

More is more

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Photo by Nicole Wong

Slouchin', doin' a triple denim thang with bananas on my feet; très vogue, non?

I say this in poorly replicated cross-continent accents, and from the comfort of my bed - tucked in cosily under the sheets, mug of hot berry tea in hand, Sex and the City marathon ongoing. With air-conditioning, of course. Safe to say, life feels pretty damn good right now.

And that's my cue to ruin the moment by digressing and stressing myself out with the analysis of a show, so as to prove a point. Naturally.

See, the fascination that teenage girls have with SATC and its counterparts (i.e.: The Carrie Diaries, the movie, etc.) is an intriguing one. When hooked, and trust me - that I most certainly am, you almost don't realise what exactly it is about the show that's strangely addictive. Sure, there's the charm of living in the Big Apple. The incredible clothes, tight group of girlfriends whose friendships seem to overcome all odds, the seemingly perfect dream jobs that also somehow manage to pay the bills and support their exorbitant (but somewhat relatable) lifestyles, problems that always work out and of course, the dreamy guys. And that's where the problem lies.

The show is about 30-going-on-40 women who constantly live in the ideal situation. Isn't that all completely unrealistic, not to mention unrelatable to us? We shouldn't be watching these shows and allowing ourselves to be the deluded into thinking that this sort of lifestyle is completely, effortlessly achievable for the everyday woman! Curse you, Carrie Bradshaw, with your hopeless romanticism and lifestyle purveying!

But the fact of the matter is, Carrie and the girls are the women we want to be when we grow up, whether we've admitted it to ourselves or not. They're our television-personality role models. And for all my obsession with the show, if there's something Carrie Bradshaw has taught me, it's that sometimes when it comes to fashion, more is simply more. Double denim? Pshhhhhht. Break the rules. Kick it up a notch with triple denim. Bananas and platforms - why the hell not? Wear whatever you want, whenever you want, and wherever you want.

Because whether your life is as faaaabulous as SATC or not, style is something no one can deprive you of. I could go on and on about this, but it's really all very simple.  

Your style is yours, so just own the damn thing already.

And don't worry. Carrie approves.

Wearing thrifted dungarees, gifted denim shirts, Xccelerate platforms

Wednesday, 17 September 2014

In transition

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 Photos by Fendi Yasuda

On Sundays (notably, not Wednesdays), we wear pink... and go semi-armless.

We (also) sweat it out in half-buttoned men's oxfords alá Wang SS14 (which by the way, has completely revolutionised the button-down for me. I almost never wear them like they were intended to anymore), and tennis-esque jacquard minis in the hopes of looking appropriately preppy and not "like you just got out of bed", according to the mother. Oh, the joys of parental support. On a non-sartorial note, we also use too many brackets and dashes in what are unusually long and (probably) grammatically incorrect sentences. We are, what they call, a mess.

But isn't that what Sundays are for? General sh*t-getting-together and wasting away? Mmmm. That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.

Since my recent transition into the working world (sheesh, I feel 30 just typing that), weekends, casual (read: indecent) wear and free time to do ~whatever~ have become somewhat a rare commodity. And its a strange feeling, being in transition. Whether its in life or between seasons. As much as I enjoy change and adventure, I crave something to hold on to - something constant, that is both a reminder of what was and a reassurance of what's to come.

This parka, for instance. Lightweight enough to be slung over the lazy and ubiquitous shorts-and-shirt combo during the hotter months (because face it, Singapore's weather is notoriously limited to: hot, hotter, rainy and always, always humid), but thick enough to double as the perfect rainy day/cold weather overcoat. Its versatility heavily depends on your colour-coordination-adventurousness, but best believe you will get enough compliments to validate the purchase.

But alas, this post was not to feature the parka (which wasn't even the star of the 'fit, tbh). It was meant to drive home the point that, like what the parka is to the outfit, we all need a transition piece/thing/person in our lives that makes change and easing new seasons just a teeny bit more bearable. Now whether that point has been made is debatable, but till then I'm just going to keep prata-flipping/slinging this analogy over my shoulders - and yes, I used an article of clothing to reference a significant life realisation. Are you gagging from my pretentiousness yet?

Wearing Uniqlo men's oxford shirt, Zara skirt and shoes, H&M parka, Moschino phone case

Monday, 1 September 2014

Man-repelling in marble

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 Photos by Fendi Yasuda

So after what has now become a four month hiatus (sorry bout that, Internet), the plague is back and bigger than ever - The Fashion Plague, that is. A little self-affirmation never hurt, right? Yet even after all that time away, still the question begs to be answered: What man-repelling thing does Cheryl wear today? 

That... that thing on her skirt, what is that? And most importantly, high socks with trainers? Is she trying to propel herself into perpetual singledom?

Unfortunate truths of my relationship status (or lack thereof) aside, ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the revival of this virtual space and me getting off my lazy busy ass and back to blogging with the wildcard of all female bottoms - the asymmetrical A-line. Corporate, but not. And of course the elephant in the room, or in this case, flap on the skirt, that almost throws off the whole balance of the garment. Yup, more than slightly awkward.

I had initially intended for it to be worn during an impending six month internship, but in usual Cheryl fashion (pun intended), was too excited to wait. Cop a shirt from the men's section in everyone's favourite print of the season, throw a baseball cap with the brother's trainers* into the mix just to add the 'sports' in sports luxe and ta-da! An ensemble capable of making Asian mothers (mine included) everywhere shudder in horror and/or shrivel up in embarrassment. I rest my case. 

But really, here's to new(er) beginnings.

*Yes, I am that sibling. Wearing my own clothes/clothes made specifically for females has never been my strong suit. 

Wearing H&M marbled tee, baseball cap, and asymmetrical skirt