Going Troppo

The year one/three for me has being a total turmoil along with blessed trips to succulent lush tropical islands. 

With a beach-loving surf fanatic as a man-pal, these destinations pretty much warranted and I most certainly wasn't making any sound grumbles or whinges. 

The first, we welcomed the new year in Vanuatu in bright little clothing. 

Van-Tu is just a dream loco with a gorge turquoise beachside to your left and well-flourished rainforests to your right. 

Many of the food is westernised but the sea-critter dishes are literally fresh as fudge served with the poor fishies literally suffocating for fresh-h20 on your plate. 

The second, I made a quickie flight to Fiji, not far or diff from my beloved Van-Van. 

Luckily, with the dear love-interests connections, we had to ourselves a cute little bure right by the southern beaches. 

Much like Van, the place was well-lush with rainforrest goodness and absolutely stunbun beaches with reefs full of marine life. 

Thanks to lucky stars, I was able to experience the full-Gee experience and spent half a day in a local village. 

This involved the renowned Kava ritche with local cooking prepped by bodacious sassy village lasses. 

A marv occasion that I will most defs never forget. 

Vanuatu was amazzles with beautiful laxed out locals however, the people of Fiji really reached out to my smog-infested neon-lighted heart. 

The people there are genuinely stoked-city to say 'Bula!' and are always interested to spark up a genuine chatter with you. 

The village people adore their simple lives with very little technology and moderate to high living but appreciate every mo of their breathe to just be surrounded by their loved ones and homely vibe. 

What a pleasurable eye-popping thing it was. 

Being right amongst the bright, sonic, hustely lifestyle of working 9 til 5, Monday to Friday, I realised that you really do forget the simple easy perks of life. 

Having a bangin' outfit for the weekend and your in perf curls just seems like such an idiotic thing to be concerned about after just a mini week of being in such places. 

I could not recommend persistently enough to all sisters and bro-towns who really are caught up in their social, career drive to just stop the car, get out and take a fresh breathe of air and have a nice stroll. 

Fear of the Red

I absolutely adore make-up.

It has been a very important part of me since I entered teen-hood.
I almost feel sick if I don't have make-up equipped and hardly recognise myself fresh-faced. 

One thing, I just couldn't get my head around was me with red lipstick. 

Love the look and the idea of it but for some reason, when I sport the le chic red lippy - I look like a tranny that may or may not sell his/her body to the night. 

Being my unfortunate circumstances, you can only imagine my reaction when red lips all of a sudden became the BOOM. 

I resented every lass that was able to pull it off by commenting on their photo "You look slutty". 

Yep, I was that spiteful jez-girl.

I kept on with my life though, with my boring childish nude lips. 

That is, until just the other night. 

It was like I was three years old again, I was staying with my mother duckette in Sydney and like usual, I was raiding through her goods to see if there were any that I may be interested in "borrowing". 

I came across Chanel's scorching red lippy, still fresh and glistening. 

Naturally, I had to give it a chance. 

I don't know if it was the two glasses of wine that I had earlier or if I had just finally grown up as a woman.

 

IT LOOKED BULL-SHIT HOT. 

I then went out with my blood-stained lips thinking that I was all that. 

Though this may be a very "cool blog bro" kind of post but seriously, it was like I swam for the first time. 

Congratulations are welcome. 

- A- 

Tee Pee Oh > versus < Rainbow Stylin'

Just last night, I found that the air outside wasn't as sticky or hot but crisp and had a bit of a bite to it. 

I couldn't have been happier with this, as I am the number one fan of winter fash. 

I went straight to my noble steed (yes, I happen to be living out of my car at the mo, no judgements would be appreciated) and rummaged through my "Socks Box". 

Yes, I have three boxes solely dedicated to above-knee socks, detailed ankle socks and hoisery/stockings. 

Every year I die a little inside when I have to put these boxes away. 

After fetching my very fave number i.e. over-the-knee lacey nylon socks, I located my very recent buy (a cream light but fluffy jumps in an XL to sport as a dress). 

I was over the moon to have been re-united with this temperate numbers. 

After dishing up the stated get-up, I felt that there was just something missing. 

I needed to even out the top. 

Need you say more, a hat, obvs. 

Wore my dark khaki hat with black detailing and it was like I had sex for the first time. 

So, satisfied.

Clearly, I got a bit carried away with my attire there and lost the actual point of this post. 

What I was wondering was, the fact that I have clearly lost interest in "manners" for the sake of style. 

I mean, I was wearing the above for dinner. 

How dare I even a hat on inside, at night time, let alone, at the dinner table. 

The audacity. 

My mother would see this and would do the cliche Asian thing, 

"You dishonour the famiree"

Sorry mother, but my priorities are as follows. 

1. FASHION 

2. EVERYTHING ELSE

A 4 Fashion 4EVER <3

- A -

Chains are Change

I like to think that nobody can affect the way I dress. 

But, I really believe that it is almost imposs for one to not be influenced by another with the way they present themselves. 

I happen to have a man-pal who I often share a bed with, attend events as each other's plus ones and "cuddle" in times of self-loathing and stormy weathers. 

This dude is a bit of a big deal. 

Let's keep him anonymous simply for gigs. 

Okay, so geting off topic. 

I have been hanging foul with this gent for around a year now and as much as it is hard to admit - he has affected the way I dress. 

Before subject A made his significant entrance to my life, I was all about grungey dark almost-offensive attires. 

Leather - check. 

Far too many chains and bedazzlments. 

Blue black hair. 

ONLY monochrome. 

Lace and Layers even on a scorcher of a day. 

This may seem a tad wankey, but I like to think that I nailed the stated items as an outfit. 

Approx at March 2012, I found myself in a bright blue bodycon mini-skirt. 

This caused quite the stir in my household. 

My two male roomies were beyond gobsmackled with my unusual choice of colour scheme. 

As months passed by, the threads became brighter, less noisey and pretty damn femmy. 

Yup, I turned gay and soft. 

Even Subject A stated, 

"I like how you wear colour, I think it means you're in love" 

GROSS.

But perhaps I am guilty as charged. 

I feel wrong to be in funeral attire now and feel plain uncomfy. 

As much as I miss my old grunge, street style steez. 

I have this huge affection towards bright pinks and yellows now. 

Fantastic. 

Peter Pan has finally grown up. 

- A -

Clothes > Everything Else

"The Best Things in Life are Free. The Second Best are Very Expensive" 
Coco Chanel 

When I was a few years younger with a scum-paying job and very much into drinking...well, every night of the week, I still somehow managed to make purchasing clothes my very first priority. 

I'd be starving broke, but somehow I'd miraculously scrounge up enough coins to procure myself at least one number to wear on the big night out of the week.

This often affected my food intake for a good month, but a titanic thanks to Mi Goreng's I was able to survive the wrath of having a shopping addiction. 

My credit rating is sheer proof to state that finance management was by far my biggest weakness since the 2000's. 

Even now, I have come to the cold realisation that around 75% of my weekly income goes straight to clothes or something relatively materialistic. 

Honestly, could there be anyone better at life than me? 

A perfect example would be me just last week, I received an extremely rude and inconsiderate infringement notice from the government with xxx dollarbites in arrears. 

Due date, Friday.
Pay day, Friday. 

Saturday, one of my closest pal's b-dazzle celebration. 

Naturally, the council received a notice from yours truly stating that the payment will be delayed. 

Mind you, I looked bull-shit good on Saturday night though.

- A -

White Out

Can anybody on the face of this doomed planet look bad in a freshly ironed crisp white blouse? 

Honestly, to this day I can still remember every so clearly, the first time I buttoned myself up in a heavenly-white blouse.

It was a very special moment. 

This takes us back to my school ducks phase.

I went to the same school from Year One all the way to Year Twelve. 

A typical pretentious old-girls private school in a small suburban town that proclaimed itself as the "Garden City". 

Everything about this school I hated barring the bull-shit over-priced uniform. 

They were snobby and definitely over-the-top, naturally, I adored it. 

Our Winter uniform was by far my favourite number. 

+ White Button-Up Blouse +

+ Tartan 100% Cotton/Wool Pleated Skirt +

+ Navy High Socks +

+ Black Mary-Janes +

+Tartan Tie to match the Skirt +

Okay, I understand that the above may sound like something that would feature in a late-night xxx film BUT, give me the ben of the doubt, when I say this but us girls, sure looked bangin'. 

The first time I wore this collaboration was in June 1992. 

At the wee age of 5, I was well-aware that I looked BOSS. 

All thanks to the plain white button-up and perhaps the tie gave it just that cheeky boost too. 

Present time -  at the age of 25. 

I wear a white blouse to work and still feel like I could rule the world simply by poppin' up my well-bleached collars. 

Yes, I'll admit it. 

 I feel mighty sexy y'all. 

I can bet my favourite limb (my left fin) that the general fem pop could not agree with me more. 

(very pleased to go to work this day) 

- A -

If I Were a Dude

I think I may think about being born a dude more often than normal. 

I actually do often get told that I should've been a dude. 

I happen to strongly agree. 

Like a boy, LOVE to drink. 

Like a boy, I turn my head when a total babe walks past in a short-mini-skirt. 

Like a boy, not really a fan to show too much emotions. 

Like a boy, lives for the rowdy nights out with the man-pals. 

Like a boy, gets very attached to video games. 

In certain circumstances, all I wish is to be a boy. 

Let me just name a few cheekies...

1. Hung over Sundays. 

The last thing I want to do on a well-hung Sunday after a putrid night out is to clean yourself up and wear fresh make-up to look mediocre pretty. 

2. Busting Moments. 

When the water closet is beyond 1km away and you are really needing the powder room. 

You just wish you could just fling it out like it was nobody's business. 

3. Promiscuous Nights. 

I know that this may sound sexist however, it is inevitable for a female to be judged should they have be known to have multiple sexual encounters with multiple partners. 

WHEREAS, lads get glory, highfives, wolf-whistles and fist pumps. 

Seriously, what the fudge? 

4. Ageing. 

Let's not lie here. 

As males age, they get finer. Like wine. 

As females age, they get stale. Like grapes. 

These are just a few that come to my mind but really I could name hundreds, heck, thousands of reasons why life would've been so much greener being born a boy. 

In the end, all that keeps me from Ellen Degeneres-ing is the sweet sweeeeeeet clothes that come with being a girl. 

Lace. 

Thrills. 

Leather. 

Heels. 

Ribbons. 

I would sacrifice beers, football and mates for any of these things. 

Materialistic as that may sound, this is what really makes me the most flamboyant tom-boy since 1987.

I suppose, even in my choice of clothing, you are able to detect that I have serious "wanna-be-a-boy" syndrome. 

If had the choice of a cute pink floral dress over a tank with shorts. 

A second wouldn't even pass before I select the later opt. 

That all said, before I sound like some crazy gender-confused teenager...

At the end of the day, while I lie on my humble bedding and view out my window. 

I really thank the stars for being a girl and being almost commended for wearing what I wear. 

-A-