08 December 2014

Coast Calls

 I swear it was Beyoncé who told me to look to the left, which justifies only the first shot but not the following eight, but I can't conjure up any more Bey-Bey lyrics that influences the rest of my alledgedly candid poses, so whatevs. Once again, it's Monday, and I sulking in guilt for being a weekly-posting 'blogger', but that's only a temporary glitch as I'm up to my unplucked busy eyebrows in academic obligations that must be prioritized; forgive me internet for I have sinned. Once I graduate in a few months, I promise my love shall return in full force and I will provoke you like never before... seriously, it gets really personal... #TooMuch? On another note, I think there comes a time in every girl's life where she stops on the street and ponders "is my life worthy of YouTube exposure?" Far be it for me to say my life is fuckin' fabulous, and I need to document it like National Geographic with macro lenses just so the world can analyze me in molecular detail! No, but I do find myself often in hilariously awkward moments (very Bridget Jones) along with hopefully relate-able scenarios that also provoke. Hence, I've literally been videoing the most random snippets of my life in London and other cities on my iPhone, and if for some miraculous reasoning I don't cringe at myself (why does my face look as if it's undergoing epileptic seizures on cam?!), I'm considering sharing my life through another form of media, think of it as an extension of my Instagram. If you haven't already seen it, then let Jay-Z tell you to look to the right (sidebar derr!).

trousers CÉLINE

photography BRYANT LEE

01 December 2014

Knee-high Blues

It's December the first and also a Monday, that to me is conflicting concepts. On one hand, I'm in joy that we're steadily approaching the holiday season where we celebrate fat middle aged men in red suits judging our moral status with presents; while on the other spectrum, Mondays generally suck mega Christmas balls. So my current excitement status is on the proverbial fence. You get me? Besides being complacently stuffed with holiday baked goods, overdone cranberry-anything left over from thanksgiving, saturated politically-correct Christmas decor, static-inducing wooly mothball scented sweaters, and everything else smelling like cinnamon or Chris pine; Winter is my favorite season if you're basing it on needing to shave your legs or not. Razor season is O-V-E-R! Rejoice in ticking one more bodily maintenance need off reducing my daily-prep routine down ten minutes. But if you possess Alexa Chung limbs and occasionally opt for any clothing with a hem above the knee, then consider knee-high (or thigh-high for the gifted) boots as your best gay friend... get acquainted. No, seriously, hide your prickly shins but do keep a slither of skin for dermatological ventilation as stanky boots are as much a turn off as your cactus calves. As for me, my lazy approach is just to zip into these cut-out heel Wang boots, then throw on a favorite Céline number of mine that drapes in all the right ways acting as the perfect day blouse. Then hold onto a marble clutch for necessities, whilst asymmetrically wrapping around a skinned cookie monster around my neck for added warmth. From an initial glance my leather shorts masqueraded themselves as a skirt, but hey, you choose whatever you want to see; I rather like the skirted look instead. After all, defining my gender through what I wear is a daunting task, especially in the Winter.
shirt CÉLINE
shorts VINTAGE
fur stole G.V.G.V.

21 November 2014

Post-Paris Ponders

Upon my most recent return from Paris, it truly hit me, I much rather prefer being a frequent visitor to this ville de l'amour than a residence. The ideal situation is I be a New Yorker - as you've all seen how much I thrived on that last year living and working in The Big Apple for eight months - and dropping by London whenever, and skipping over to Paris. This 'lifestyle' if you could call it that, over the years has led me to rake up quite a few little urban families in each city, which makes navigating them a lot easier as a nomadic boy-tomboy. This way, I still get to play the American (hopefully the educated-not-clichéd American) in Paris scenario and maintain the illustrious illusion of the beauty that is Paris; since I don't think I can deal 24/7 with the gypsies, the political incorrectness, linguistic disadvantage, awkward club scenes, and slow-paced lifestyle that irks even the most zen of us. True, the fresh artisinal pastries, architecture, insider galleries, fashion flagship stores, ubiquitous night cafés, smoking culture, and the fact that this is the place that houses Gainsbourg, Guislain, and Ghesquière, does tempt me to try on the 'Parisian shoe' one more time even though I know deep down, they're either not going to fit or I simply can't afford them. But look, either way, I'm simply trying to preserve some charm and mystery that I feel like after my fiftieth visit has somehow numbed me to it, or prepared me for it? Hold that thought whilst I wrap myself up in with my furry buddy of mine because is it me or is it bloody fucking cold these days? I know, I know, I shouldn't swear, I take back the word 'bloody'. #FuckItsCold
fur stole PRADA (HERE)
sneakers CHANEL

photography BRYANT LEE

14 November 2014

Sit, Stare, with Flare

The transition from autumn coolness to winter cold is underway, and I've been dreaming of pulling up some new layering trickery to dazzle you all with since July. Like most of you, the impatient/want-what-you-can't-have-now attitude resonates strongly in me on a visceral level, which renders me to yearn for coats in summer, and bare legs for winter. After all, if you can dare to bare, then by all means, strip. I love a girl who piles up on sweaters, while still futilely wraps up in a scarf even though her neck already has suffice warmth from her turtleneck, double on the coats but wears high waisted short shorts and clogs in a New York winter, she's got balls, and I dig her look. Just FYI, this girl existed, and I indeed have met her in NYC last year... She is awesome. The irony here is me talking about layering, yet not providing any substantial evidence to support such sartorial phenomenon. I'd get to it after I put this out there... In the mean time, I just wanted to share some moody, pose-y, and totally candid (yeah right?) photos from my 48 hours in Paris mini-getaway during the Halloween weekend. Apparently, we like waking up early and stare out onto Parisian streets through our windows, lounging around on piles of magazines, and planning which type of artisinal bread to munch on. #KillingTimeInParisChic
top & culottes CÉLINE


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