Head To Toe

Really simple outfit before heading to Orchard Rd for my last full day in Singapore. Gonna hit up A Curious TeePee today along with some other high street stores. One thing I might snap today: Topshop varsity jacket. Nay or yay?

Wearing Vintage mens denim shirt, American Apparel corduroy skirt in creme, socks from Harbour Front

For a couple of weeks, I realised, I have been semi-bombarded by American Apparel's online promotion. AND I LOVE IT. Ever since the news that a group of Canadian investors have pumped their money into the company when it was on the verge of bankruptcy, AA is back and stronger than ever. Thank god I didn't have to start a SaveAmericanApparel.com (wait, that already exists).

Besides the point, this is my favourite brand/company of all time. I even applied for a job there while I was at Uni (but only went as far as an interview). This is a brand that I've always liked. I still remember not being able to bring myself to buy anything because I thought it was so overpriced which sometimes is still the case. Having said that I'm obsessed with their hosiery and accessories. I think their range of leather clutches are amazing and I would own it in every colour if I wasn't a fresh graduate trainee who is working for almost nothing. Ah, life. But hey, that doesn't mean I don't beg my dad to get me a Corduroy Circle Skirt every time he takes a business trip to Korea. That thing is amazing, I have it in black and now I want it in Martini Blue (go buy it here and thank me later).

The thing that strikes me about loving this brand is that I have allowed myself to be swallowed into their marketing. Not that that is a bad thing. Image is not everything but it's so pleasurable. Looking at an American Apparel ad usually evokes some sort of emotion - satisfaction, uneasiness, rage, you name it. And I like that about the brand. Personally, it makes me want to walk around town with a best friend who dresses just like me (in an ideal world that would translate to wearing American Apparel from head to toe). A friend who doesn't care if she bends over to fix a shoelace and reveal her Stretch Floral Lace Thong and probably would just giggle if someone was looking, an AA girl.

Click to visit American Apparel Website

Fashion films, oh, fashion films. I've always had a love/hate relationship with them. And just for the purpose of this post, I am speaking of short videos rather than a 90 minute video. I mean, in one aspect you'd guess, for someone who loves fashion, what is there to hate about fashion films? It must be heaven, right? Just minutes of pure concentration of the clothes. In most, you get to the the fabrics up close, how it flows and drapes and looks when worn.

And don't get me wrong, I'm easily amused. But not with fashion films. I've always felt that most are too commercialised. Some, on the other hand, are fantastic. Nowness usually has a lot of good ones up. And Opening Ceremony. Especially Opening Ceremony. That might just need a another post on its own (Humberto and Carol, I love you!).

In all honesty, I think this Shakuhachi clip above feels a little Gareth Pugh wannabe. And I mean.. the walk, the wind, the weird electro sound, Pugh has been doing it for years.

ps. I have labeled this post 'Judged' because that's how I'm going to label posts where I feel like I'm letting out steam and word-vomitting onto a post in a sort of criticising way about all sorts of things. I live in a small town and has anger problems is rage-y, it's natural.

I want to be somewhere cold.

Cold enough to wear a beanie and go crazy on tights and thigh highs at American Apparel.

(Private pictures)

A friend and I were having this discussion about books. Actually, my love for books. Same diff.

Then I started going off on a tangent and said: "Gosh, I miss the secondhand bookstores in Melbourne. They are scary and romantic in a way."

Like empty train stations at night. That was going be my next sentence but this was with a guy friend, and guy friends are always telling me that looking at me like I'm so over-thinking life and shit. And what's the point of having a blog if you can't pure a load of emotional/philosophical/worse-than-pathetic utterance all over it!

Back to empty train stations. Y' know, because I'm artistic and imaginative as a bag of rainbow gummybears, I tend to dream up these scenerios where:

a) I get stalked by this beast of a man

b) a rapist is chasing after me

c) a group of druggies demand that I join them or else they will stab me with their dirty needles

I mean, that's scary. Right?

Right.

On the other hand, what is more romantic than (and this is a real story) a seemingly normal night after a gig when I was dragging myself to Platform 2 in my sky-high, studded, distressed leather red boot clogs (amen), they decided to spin Norah Jones.

That moment fucking changed my life.