Did My Back Hurt Your Knife?

In one episode of “Friends”, Rachel, feeling betrayed, asked Monica, “I’m sorry, did my back hurt your knife…?” It was of course, meant to be a sarcastic question at full bite, with excessive fang-baring. She also meant it metaphorically, of course. However, I recently had the ill opportunity of witnessing a similar, albeit ironically, literal event.

After a regular religious rite, at my fashionably popular organization, the juniors were asked to leave. Being junior, fashionistas-in-training, their sense of balance were somewhat not-quite-there, yet. As one of the younger ones stood up, there was a struggle for balance. A sway and a lean, with an effort to gain composition, one of the seniors’ suffered a minute touch of a friction with the aforesaid junior. The point of contact, for unfortunate feather of a collision occurred somewhere between the junior’s temple and the senior hand. Or more specifically, the senior’s diamond encrusted ring.

It was the look on the senior’s face that was rather incredulous. It was a look of disgust whilst frantically stroking the seemingly injured transparent carbon isotope on her finger, in a gesture that was not unlike a parent trying to soothe one’s child. All these, while throwing a toxic look of disgust at the junior. Ay, if looks could kill, the happily nonchalant junior, would have died, suffering from bloody stabs a thousand times or more. However, the junior was too happy to bother about the world just then, since balance one had just been regained in one’s bipod society.

There were several ironies here, of course. The incident occurred right after a religious rite, expounding care, love and respect to fellow humans. The seniors in the organization were supposedly selected for their adoration of the juniors. Yet, I was unfortunate enough to witness an event that proved itself antithetically.

Paraphrasing Rachel, I wanted to release my sarcastically acerbic tongue. “My dear, are you alright?” I would enquire, looking at the junior. Then, in a theatrical tilt that juxtaposes my body against the senior, “I am so sorry that the junior’s head bumped into your hard stone while trying to gain balance.” A dramatic beat later, I shall, with such sycophantic tenderness, ask, “Did the junior’s head hurt your rock/stone/carbon isotope?”

An Uplifting Spiritual Experience.

It’s amazing how some people can multitask. What’s more amazing is the tasks they combine with – like religion and eroticism.

I was Starbucks® the other when I noticed a couple sitting by the window couches and doing some reading/revision. Judging from what one of them was wearing and noticing an opened bible on the coffee table, I supposed they were theology students.

How industrious. Bible studying after bible studies.

It wasn’t soon after when they decided that it was enough of revision and it was time instead to move on to other subjects – the kind that requires two parties. I noticed that the female among the two slithered over the male’s lap and they started to get touchy-feely. Seriously touchy-feely.

I thought it was their prerogative if they wanted to do a show-and-tell and give everyone in the café a lesson on publicly-displaying-affection. But there was a point where it was really an “aurgh, get a room… PLEASE!” situation.

About an hour later, they finally let up. However, without sounding too explicit, let me just say that unfortunately for the male anatomy, it doesn’t just let the up go down that easily. As they both stood up to prepare to leave, perhaps for another seminary, there was an obvious third party standing up too. It was making such an appearance; it was almost comical while being mildly obscene at the same time. With all that studying, I do believe it wasn’t just the mind and spirit that received a boost that day.

It was a revision exercise that was obviously an uplifting experience in more ways than one.

Fabulista satisfied.

It’s been an incredible weekend shopping experience for me. I have been to Germany, France, Italy and back. I am now wholly satisfied; at least for the time being.

I am now enlightened to the reason why I have not been able to get anything from Hèrmes; they are quite depressing when it comes to accessories for men. I went in to the shop the other day and saw a miserable scattering of shoes and apparels. A few dress accessories and that’s about it. Being a leather fan, there wasn’t much for me at their boutique. I tried to ask about their agendas and wallets and they displayed before me smattering of objets malheureux.

The only thing I might consider right now, which is an organizer (which I suspect I have gotten one from my pals as a birthday gift) is a sad flap of treated skin. Bare boned, everything else was an auxiliary purchase. The pen that doubles as a lock for the flaps and the calendar inserts were all exclusive purchases. I wouldn’t pay a grand for that. I’d rather a Bottega Veneta, with its buttery soft, signature waffle weave (intrecciato) leather.

I am now going home to unravel the mystery of the Gucci gift bag at home.

Fabulista at work

What a weekend I am having! It’s absolute fabulista at work.

After a excruciatingly painful but extremely cleansing facial, I was entreated by yours truly to an incredible spree at Ermenegildo Zegna. With a whopping 50% discount, who could resist? So shoes belts and other assorted accessories later, it was time to make one’s way home. So now, how should one choose a pair of good investment shoes? The answer is in the detail of the adhesion – how the whole shoe comes together. The high-end range would be made from high-quality leather hand sewn to its insole. This component is then hand sewn to the outsole. So, in total, there are two sewing processes, making a sturdier and lasting shoe built. The other things to look out for would be the detailing and the design of the whole shoe itself, including the choice of the leather, of course. Luxe crocodile, anyone? How about a bespoke with your name embossed to the sole of the shoe?

Talking about Zegna brings me to my next point – this season’s poisons, i.e. items to avoid at ALL cost. Many of Zegna’s current collection have been emblazoned with their initials. That is grave mistake and cardinal sin in the English speaking fashion world. One SIMPLY does NOT want to be known as ‘EZ’! If you can’t decipher what I am trying to tell you here, you deserve all the ridicule and sniggers that come your way and trust me, they are not admiring your fashion sense. Rather, they are having a field day at the expense of your lack of English literacy.

Additionally, Longchamp put their nylon/leather tote (Le Pliage) on promotional sale recently. The result? The campaign has been overwhelmingly successful. How do I know that? Just walk down Orchard on any day and you will lose count of the number of Jane, Joan and Sally carrying one. Uniform is NOT fashion. All self-respecting fashionistas must avoid this bane of fashion at all cost.

Now for my latest obsession – Hermès. I must have something from Hermès. Unfortunately, it is one of those boutiques that I – haven’t had the chance to explore just because each time I pass by the place, the door is always closed and the whole interior of the boutique after the glass seems so forboding! This fabulista’s next mission is to venture beyond the gilded glass doors of the French saddle-makers! I must have a good browse of the items and decide on a suitable investment. In the meantime, does anyone have any suggestion? Skip it though, if all you can conjure up are the silks, cashmere or Birkins. I already know them.

On the topic of things to get, here’s a budget item on my wishlist – a Nike Amp+. This little collaborative offspring of Apple and Nike after the sport kit connects as a remote for the iPod Nano to monitor one’s jog. It is now available for sale in the US but will probably not be coming to where I am since the radio communication clearance is too troublesome for the local retailers. (Psst… get the hint, my US friend?)

The fabulista shall continue the lifestyle tomorrow – with a hair appointment and a mission trip to Hermès, it’s going to a socialite’s role for me!

Oh industry.

It is not everyday that a native like myself gets to get out of town to do some shopping. It’s the bread and butter issues, you see. Thus, I should treasure every moment and savour every second that I do encounter the material pleasures of the world out there.

While passing a store, so appropriately ironic that it should be named “Apothecary and Company” (you shall see the irony soon), I witnessed the much talked about new fragrance with anti-depressing properties. The quiet joy I reveled in finding the much heard product was much shadowed by the outburst of elation the sales executive exuded in welcoming me to the store.

“That is the world’s first anti-depressant fragrance!” the exec cried out, clasping one’s hands in great epiphanic revelation. The smile on one’s face would have lit a thousand towns of incandescent bulbs. The obliging exec went on to offer me a sample of the said fragrance. It had a citrus head note, with a floral body and a musky heart.

In short, it’s not my kind of fragrance.

If there were anything anti-depressing about the place, it would have to be the sales exec. The smile and the laugh in one’s laugh was so infectious and contagious that I could help but felt instantly uplifted.

I left the shop empty handed. A shop that caters mainly to models and ladies just didn’t have anything for me. But I left the shop feeling the positive cheer of the sales exec beaming after me.

A round around the shopping mall and fifteen minutes later, I passed a corridor opposite the shop. I caught a glimpse of the sparkling and exuberant person who was so keen to offer the fragrance to me. Then I saw the exec; he was huddled in a dark corner of the dimly lit shop. No smile on his face. Staring blankly at his fingers… looking moody and lost.

Oh industry. What price, commercialism…?

If you judge so of others.

There is a saying in my culture and language that if one wishes to pass judgment on another, one cannot allow oneself to be criticized thus. My grandmother was the first to enlighten me to this little thought on life. It was really to remind one not to judge others as one’s behaviour is obviously under constant scrutiny. Unless, of course, one is completely impervious to external comments.

In a recent coffee session, I was privy to the fact that my friend was reminded, rather severely, that one’s behaviour had been untoward to one’s seniors - seniors of the elderly kind. Mind you, this comment is made about my friend who was brought up by one’s grandmother. Of course, when it got out, it became a great coffee table joke. The people who heard the comment about my friend’s attitude towards the geriatric laughed. When the one whom was supposedly on the receiving end of the insolence got wind of it, she was all the more puzzled. Apparently, the two of them converse with such easy candor, many have thought they were related - the writer of this entry being one of them.

In short, a person who knows my friend cannot help but admire his courtesy. It has often become one’s fault. My friend often goes to such length to maintain an easy atmosphere of camaraderie, it gets on one’s nerves.

Anyway, in a separate coffee session earlier (prior to the birth of this note), I was once again made privy to an incident just before we met. My friend and the person who made comments about one’s impertinence crossed path. Literally. My friend was entering a room while the other was leaving. But as my friend open the door, the other just rushed past and almost crashed the glass door. And then the other just walked away without nary a sign of an apology.

So much for courtesy. So much for judgment.

My grandmother is right. When you make a public criticism, you expose yourself to others’ assessment and censure. Once that happens, you’ve got to make sure you keep up such an excellent appearance of perfection. It doesn’t matter that it’s a lie, but you took it upon yourself. You went in there, gagging for it.

Grieving the Experience.

If there’s anything to learn from the first episode of Ugly Betty’s second season, apart from all the fabulous fashion tips, it would be this – you can’t move on until you let go. You can’t go on to see the future, even as it happens before your face, if you keep holding on to the past. As such, you run the risk of missing the best bit. You miss out on getting the present.

It isn’t difficult to realize on hindsight, how harbouring thoughts of what had happened while speculating what might have been can be destructive. The suspicion and doubt eats and it becomes easy to wallow in that emotion. Depression feeds on that and the whole thing becomes a vicious cycle.

But the need to grieve cannot be denied. It is the grieving that allows for one to escape the vicious cycle. Nevertheless, the difference between grieving and depression is critical. Grieving accepts the past. It does not deny its reality. It accepts what has happened. It accepts what as inevitable. It mourns for what it is – a tragedy that was experienced. It does not speculate what might have been.

Grieving allows the mourner to process and compartmentalize the experience. Grieving makes the living grow wiser and thus richer. At the end of the grieving, it makes for the statement that an experience has consequently enriched a life. An experience has allowed sensations. An experience has allowed me to embrace life… more.