Saturday, 5 March 2016

DTLA

I want to tell you the names of places so alien I believe they exist only on paper: 

Auckland 
Oshkosh 
Tibet 
Brixton 
Brighton 
Kerry 
Odessa 
Santa Fe 
Kiev 
Brittany 
Osaka 
Kun’lun 
Tyrol 
Trieste 
Zanzibar 
Big Sur 

The sum of my feelings about each of these places begins and ends within its name; the few pictures thart name gives-off. Kent: mint sprig over the back of a fast horse heading toward the gravesite of her rider in fog. Dover: when the air tasted the way blue paint does licked off a bleached seashell.

My best friend recently sent me a collection of poems by a brilliant man named Marco Maisto. The above excerpt is one of my faves from the series because of the way Maisto masterfully manages to juxtapose nothing against everything. He opens with a list of places that have no meaning to him followed by sentences that further highlight his apathy and then he turns the tables on you and presents two places that have more meaning than you can ever grasp. You know this because of the very specific/quirky/enigmatic way he writes about these places. He wants to show you his ghosts but only in a way that you'll never 100% understand because can anyone truly understand someone else's ghosts? Do you want anyone to truly understand yours? Plus, they're not on the list. I had to go back and double check, which is why I love Maisto so much; reading his words is like walking through a maze of hidden gems, you're constantly backtracking to make sure you didn't miss something spectacular and when you go back you always find something mind-blowing. 

After reading these lines, I was hurled into my own haunts. Into my own Kents and Dovers. 

Carlsbad. Chicago. London.  

It is beautiful and it is tragic. The way a place can haunt you. For a while I was scared to go back to some of my places because it's hard to confront the memories you still want to live in. But recently I've learned to embrace the haunts. The places my subconscious self and my physical self always end up going back to. There's something poetic about it or maybe I'm just an emotional masochist. Who knows these things. As a cosmophage, however, I'm also voraciously exploring new places. Places that will perhaps, one day, serve as sources of ghostly memories themselves. See above for photos of me in those places. All shot by photographer extraordinaire Nicole Toczauer

Oh, and here's a list of songs that haunt me. 

Ordinary Girl by Rebelution
Realize by Colbie Caillat 
Come Together by The Beatles 
Don't Worry Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin

xx

Sunday, 14 February 2016

On the Run

Beret: Vintage
Dress: Zara
Socks: Betsey Johnson
Shoes: Target 
Sunglasses: H&M 

I drove from Los Angeles to Yuma with nothing but a beret, a pair of sunglasses and a copy of Virgin Suicides. I drove for miles and miles and miles until I reached nothing but sand and sky. The kind of place where you find eternity in endless hills of gold and the deepest blue. Remember when we were 17 and you weren't ready to leave the familiarity of our small town and I was ready to be everywhere but Carlsbad? Now it's the opposite. Well, at least for me. I don't know what you think anymore. But I always end up returning to familiarity even when I'm running. 

I drove from Los Angeles to Yuma in an attempt to forget you. I drove from Los Angeles to Yuma because there are ghosts in Carlsbad. I drove from Los Angeles to Yuma and came here. Where no memories exist. Where you can walk forever and ever and ever and still be in the same place. Because that's the thing about places. You can drive for miles and miles and miles and still feel haunted. 

I still remember everything.

Friday, 5 February 2016

Fairfax

Some of you may have noticed (or maybe not), that I haven’t been posting photos of my outfits as much as I used to. I hate to sound like your stereotypical shady lover, but I can explain. Let’s start with the genesis of this blog.

I created this blog in the spring of 2013 because I went to London Fashion Week and got snapped by Vogue Italia and they asked me if I had a fashion blog and I said no. A few more magazines, the British Fashion Council and even a small group of German design students asked me the same thing during that week and, by the end of it, I decided to make a damn blog because then I could say yes. Plus, since high school, different people have told me that they’d memorize my class schedule just to see what I’m wearing, so I thought that, by creating a blog, I could eliminate a lot of time-manipulated walking on their part. (In retrospect, I don’t see why people went through the trouble because my outfits were pretty basic in high school and during freshman and sophomore year of college I was floundering in the dark abyss of my bio major so my daily look was a catastrophe. I’m fairly positive I wore pajamas every day to class. In fact, I distinctly recall wearing a red penguin-printed onesie to Contemporary Topics. My friend Hannah can vouch for me.) I also figured it’d be a great portfolio for jobs because I wanted to defy my Asian upbringing and work in fashion.

Fastforward to last year when I sorta kinda (not really but I guess really) stopped posting outfit photos. I got my dream fashion job around the same time I started experiencing an identity (clothes-dentity?) crisis. I had just ended a long-term (at least for me) relationship and was feeling a bit lost because I had put so much of myself into the relationship. It was like I was so fiercely independent for most of my life and then I found myself in this relationship where I couldn’t imagine myself without the other person and then the relationship ended and it was just me and I felt very much like Jean Valjean in Les Mis when he’s like “Who am I?” minus the “24601” part because I didn’t even have that to answer my (non)rhetorical question. That’s when I decided to strip my style to minimal bones in order to “find myself” again, which led to the whole outfit blogposts thing falling to the wayside because

1)   I was wearing a V-neck with high-waisted jeans every day.
2)   I was working the fashion job I wanted so I didn’t need a portfolio for job applications.

Around month two of the fashion uniform diet, I started to feel very boring. I thought that by wearing the same thing every day I could force my identity to reveal itself through other facets thereby supplying myself with a tangible, and less clothes-centric, source of self (Lord Voldemort, that was too much “self” for one sentence/I experience a visceral discomfort when the same word is repeated in one breath/Unless I’m using it poetically as anaphora). Anyways, that was not the case. It was very much the opposite. I felt less like myself without the eclectic wardrobe. So, shortly after this epiphany aka probably another month or two after, I slowly rekindled my love affair with the whole gamut of styles and reunited with my chameleon soul and also sent my friends Ronnie and Hunter very long psychoanalytical texts about my sartorial reversion.

I realized that, for me, what I wear has always been my way of expressing my individuality. It’s what makes me unique because it’s purely my own creation. I use clothes as art. Through my style, I am able to unleash my creativity. It projects my perspective, my mood, my interests, my influences and even my aversions (like when I was a student at the University of Notre Dame and used my style as a reactive statement against my oppressive prison of soul-sucking homogeneity). I think, for a while, I thought I didn’t have a firm grasp of my identity because I used clothes as a means to show who I am. And because my style was so fluid it meant that my identity wasn’t solid. But then I read this piece in Man Repeller about David Bowie and how he embraced superfluidity as identity and how multiple personas don’t negate a strong sense of self and that’s when it all clicked.

As Joni Mitchell says, “You don’t know what you got til it’s gone.” I didn’t know how important my wide-ranging style was to my sense of self until I restricted my outfits to a uniform. So short story long, my outfit posts are making a comeback but I don’t want to do the same old stand-in-front-of-a-brick-or-graffiti-wall shot (only sometimes). I want to create a narrative with each look. Marry clothes, photography and words into one blogpost to tell a story. I want to revert back to middle school and high school me. When I’d explore my environment, DSLR in hand, with friends; snapping shots in a sea of sunflowers or crashing waves or creepy city corners. I want this space to function as a creative outlet. Where I can let my imagination flow just to let my imagination flow. At least that’s my plan and I hope I stick to it.

On that note, see above for my first photo adventure of 2016. This was a thrifting excursion (in which I did NOT find the $1 destroyed, boyfriend-fit Levi’s of my dreams) turned mini Fairfax photo shoot with my photographer friend Nicole. We just had fun walking around the area, climbing shit and making silly faces in front of pastel walls. Then we ate at CafĂ© Gratitude which is muy delicioso! We have more thematic, story-focused photo adventures planned for the near future so stay tuned!

xx

Saturday, 16 January 2016

Man Repeller

Turtleneck: Zara
Trousers: Zara
Shoes: Target 

I'm never not in a turtleneck these days and this one's my favorite. Its blend of classic stripes with playful patches perfectly captures my new sartorial aesthetic. I decided to team this top with these mustard yellow, wide-leg trousers for an extra pop of color and '70s feel. Then, I tucked my hair in to give turtleneck hair a go. Felt v Man Repeller in this getup aka style goals achieved for the day woop woop! 

On the cultural side of things, my dear friend Davina Catt aka the UK editor of Interview Magazine slash Vogue writer slash filmmaker slash all-around creative girl boss is speaking to leading actress Olga Kurylenko about working with director Terrence Malick and other cinematic glories. If you're in London and enjoy arty, soul-feeding experiences, I recommend popping into the V&A on February 12. The event takes places in The Lydia & Manfred Gorvy Lecture Theatre and starts at 6:30 PM. Tickets are 10 pounds. For more info, click here

If you go, take pictures but don't tag me on Instagram because I will bitterly bawl over the fact that you're in London doing ultra-cool London things and I'm not. Sigh, distance makes the heartbreak stronger. I'll be back one day. Oki bye I'm gonna watch the new Pretty Little Liars episode now because it's a Saturday night, baby, and I'm alive. (Also it's my guilty pleasure. I know.) 

xx

Sunday, 3 January 2016

WeTheUrban

I had the pleasure of interviewing Samira Wiley from Orange is the New Black & Kiersey Clemons from Dope for WeTheUrban magazine. 

Grab a copy here

xx

Saturday, 12 December 2015

Circle Circle Dot Dot

Sweater: Esprit
Dress: Wholesale Buying
Flats: Nine West 

Ate brunch with one of my dearest friends at Bottega Louie today (check my Insta for the respective snap; the food there is amazing and don't get me started on the interior decoration). She told me my style has evolved. More refined, she said. I explained to her that I was, indeed, trying to become more Man Repeller meets French-girl-cool in attire. Replacing trends with more timeless patterns (polka dots, stripes) and adopting a strong affinity for the turtleneck sweater as well as (gasp!) basics. I know, I know. I never thought I'd be into basics either, but here I am, a young twenty-something in search of the perfect crisp white button-down and pointy-toe ankle boots (cough cough these ones from Acne Studios). I also, believe it or not, wear denim jeans with a V-neck at least once a week now. Ah, adulthood. 

Thus explains my outfit of the day: a creme turtleneck sweater from Esprit teamed with a polka-dot pinafore dress from Wholesale Buying and Nine West flats. I felt like a British librarian in the best of ways. 

If this look has inspired you to pursue the pedantic way of dress, the pinafore I'm wearing above is only 6 bucks from Wholesale Buying. You can pair it with a turtleneck, cable knit sweater, button-down or even a casual tee. The options are endless! Style it in whatever way you please and then scurry off to The Last Bookstore. It is so, so cool. Went for the first time today and plan to spend most of my LA weekends there, especially since it's literally down the street from my apartment. 

Music 
(Because I forgot how much I love Enrique Iglesias)

xx

Saturday, 5 December 2015

When We Were Young

Beanie: eBay
Sweater: H&M
Jeans: Wholesale Buying
Shoes: Target

From middle school to college, boys would ask me, "Did you pay full price for those jeans with holes in them?" And I'd respond, "Yup, I did." And they'd shake their heads in flabbergasted confusion and chortle a bemused, "I don't get it." Needless to say, I've been befuddling the opposite gender with my choice of denim since the early 2000s. 

For some reason unbeknownst to me (and clearly to the myriad of men who take it upon themselves to question my sartorial decisions), I've always had an affinity for destroyed denim. The sight of abrasions make my eyes sparkle and my bank account weep because "jeans with holes" are ironically quite pricey and no I can't make them myself. Believe me, I tried and epically failed.

But sometimes. Sometimes, the retail gods decide to #bless us plebic consumers with a pair of distressed denim in the perfect fit with the right amount of tears that (gasp!) don't cost an arm and a leg. 

The ones I'm wearing above, for example, are only 9 bucks. No, that's not a typo. They're 9 dolla dolla bills y'all. (See for yourself here.) Like...when does that ever happen? Well, I can tell you it happens all day errday on this Chinese e-commerce site called Wholesale Buying. They sell all the latest trends for basically pennies. Go take a peek for yourself if you don't believe me: wholesalebuying.com

On an entirely separate note, this article from Man Repeller was exactly what I needed this week. Given the alarming number of senseless and heartbreaking acts of violence occurring around the world these days, I think we all need some positive words in our lives. Let's also remember to try to understand and listen to different perspectives with peaceful empathy. Everyone has their own truths. Spread love, not hate.

Music
Coffee by Miguel 

xx