tight tweeds and secret needs

On most days I wake up groggily and stumble to grab any clothes in less than five minutes. That is all I have to select and get changed. Today, whilst walking past a reflecting surface at the interchange, it hit me that I looked fetishistic. Shit. To which other people said the same, with silly smiles on their faces, topped off with stupid winks. Christ.

“You look like Madame”.

So, I decided to retort, “At least I can look like Madame”.

I think it’s the skirt with its zippers. And the boots. And the belt. And the Schoolgirlish top. Having been previously accused of looking fetishistic many-a-time. Well, a different kind of accusation. Let’s see the number of themes they’ve identified in me. Nun, schoolgirl, librarian, Madame, Secretary, etcetera. Until these days I have some fun figuring them out too.

It’s scary how so many people tell me I make things look themed. Unintentionally, that is. You know, one day if I turned into a full-blown Fetishist, you know just who’s fault it is. Ahh well, I love the boots, which were a gift, and are over four inches high. I always like pointy-toed stuff, so this is no exception.

It makes my legs look long, anyhows. I love legs. It’s quite freaky how people remember me as The Girl With Legs. I used to cut classes alot in junior college, and my skirt wasn’t even short then. After I left, I was told by acquaintances of friends who remembered me as the girl with long legs. That was before I started dabbling with short skirts. Ahh well, legs are made for walking. G’night world.

top: Red

skirt: Mango

belt: Mango

cuff: Purple Smoke

boots: Chinese Laundry

Before ‘07 ended, we went to one of the oldest cemeteries here to pay respects to my late paternal Grandfather. He would have been a hundred years old on the said date. Chinese Religion– which is a syncretism of Animism, Mahayana Buddhism, ancestral worship, and remnants of Taoism– is an interesting one, although it’s always collapsed as “Buddhism” or “Taoism” here. I’ve always found the study of religion(s) interesting, and hence a chance to tap into my roots was jumped at. It’s also sad that most of the graves are going to be exhumed, and that a huge part of history is going to be wiped off. I spent hours there trekking through the graves, finding ways and means to walk the rickety paths, getting badly cut by wild plants, and photographing tombstones, studying their markings. History is an important thing to me, here I quote Johann Wolfgang von Goethe– “He who cannot draw on three thousand years of history is living from hand to mouth“.

I only have two pairs of shorts that I get photographed in. Because I can never justify spending money on shorts.

top: Mango

shorts: factory outlet in Perth

bag: Mollini in Perth

shades: Mango

sneakers: North Star

It’s pretty obvious I shop everywhere. Sometimes at departmental stores where the dowdy housewives supposedly shop, you can find really good steals. Which does make people gape when they find out. A typical conversation goes.

Person: Hey! I’ve been starring at your top since you walked in. Where did you get it from

Yours truly: (insert name of departmental store)

Person: WHAT!?!?

And I kid you not. This is a tame reaction, from the people I know, or at least, acquaintances.

I love this top. It is of a satin-like material which feels like PJs so it’s uber-comfortable. A nice V-cut at the bottom, with paisley prints. I call it The Pirate Top because a rafia is used to secure the halter together, inside gold rings, which really looks extremely nautical. Nautical, with a sexy twist, I reckon.

I can be quite dumb at times. Because my Debit Mini gives me one point for every five dollars spent– vis-a-vis an Amex Plat which gives you eight for every $1.60 spent– I tend to ignore all the points I accumulate on the Mini, whilst happily playing the role of The Tax Collector and claiming points for stuff off others’ cards. Because they are willing to, and are not going to use those points anyway. So, I finally realized just how many points I had chalked up on the Mini– like duh, what with books, clothes, cab rides and say, one laptop is alot– and happily claimed a Zara voucher

I wondered what I’d buy. And finally found the Tweed Dress Of My Dreams. A little puffed-sleeved, and at a decent length, with a decent-enough neckline– people have a bad habit of smiling to boobs, oh Christ– and voila.

I couldn’t resist taking a few shots over at Zara; and here’s the dress on the day I wore it out.

dress: Zara

tights: some small shop

bag: Charles & Keith

pumps: my mother’s

belt: some cart shop

earrings: vintage

bracelet: vintage

There are days I really cannot be bothered to dress up, so I throw on a tee and only wear some concealer and loose powder. The skin sucks at the mo, so I cannot go out bare-faced. I hate it when this happens, I’ve just been to the doc’s and have been told to eat three pills a day. When I hate pills with a vengeance to begin with. Ahh well, Murphy-Sod loves me so. And so I decided to do a squint for the photo.

I have an inhumanly large pile of large earrings, so I like wearing them when I dress down. I love earrings, I used to buy hoards at a time– back then Forever 21 had so many nice earrings at such cheap prices, nobody could blame me– and then scare the shit out of people when they see my collection. These days, I buy way less, partly because few catch my eye anymore. The funniest thing is how people on the street like to ask me just where I got my earrings from. I do buy high-end at times, but most of the time it’s just high-street.

top from Calvin Klein; earrings from Forever 21.

I have been accused of suffering from a severe case of paraphilia. Most notably from Laundritus and Retifism. I love the way high heels look, and I get pretty intrigued by the sound they make– really, some people should not walk in them if they sound like elephants lumbering. Amen.

If I trained a man to walk in high heels, he’d be way more graceful.

And then I no longer feel so bad about my so-called fetishisms because I met a man way worse than me. Ho ho ho.

Anyhows, Fetishism is more often than not simply a dumb little label. But I shalt not launch into a treatise on it here.

So, I used to be uber-fascinated by Christian Loubotin’s Fetish heels.

Except that they are way too expensive.

And then I found this, and fell in lust/love/like with their 7-inch Ballet Fetish Heels. Ooh, God.

Well aware of arguments that this is inhumanly high, perverse, warcrime, etcetera, nobody said all heels were made simply for walking. Amen.

I love holidays. Some of the guys poke fun at me, saying it’s P’s Fashion Show Gone Overseas. Sometimes I can never understand how they fit everything in. Like this man I know who fits in three pairs of shoes and countless changes of clothes into a simple carry-all. It’s inhuman.

The only thing I grumble often about is the insanely high taxes that burgeon everytime you blink. What with security taxes, fuel taxes, etcetera. Advertisements on low fares should be shot down. They give one false hope. Not taking any handouts and then having an appetite for books and clothes, as well as the anal need to have some contingency stashes severely limits the frequency of my travels. Ahh well, at least I do have fun during my travels– which could be more often– and take pretty nice shots.

This one was taken in Phuket, where we had to dress down seriously, because we were going on some serious budget-shopping and a bargaining extravaganza over at Patong Beach.

I used to have a phobia of dressing down, thinking I’d look terrible. But this proved me wrong. I actually do like to dress-down. Ironical, ain’t it.