Showing posts with label fashion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fashion. Show all posts
"Thank you.
Thank you for making me see stars when I only saw the darkness."
Will Darbyshire, This Modern Love.
The book carried me through an emotional process. This Modern Love reminds me that today's form of love is no worse nor better than love of the past. Love is love is love. Regardless of time and place.
This modern love is still love, and it is beautiful.
glasses : SpecSavers | shawl : Adlina Anis
top : TopShop | dress : (thrifted)
boots : (similar)
SHOP THE LOOK HERE
So, what do you think of this modern love?
Thank you for making me see stars when I only saw the darkness."
Will Darbyshire, This Modern Love.
I finished This Modern Love by Will Darbyshire in less than 24 hours.
It is a quick read. A collection of letters around the world, from people at the beginning, middle and end of love. Crushes, romance and heartbreak. A cycle everyone can relate. Some more than others. Love is, perhaps our most primal emotion.
As I stared blankly at the last page, I thought about love in this modern age. My first love, to be specific, and its cycle. The early infatuation when I saw him on stage, the years spent together, and the eventual heartbreak.
Sometimes I have to remind myself. I was in love once.
There was a boy, two years older but acted much younger. Childish but charming. I never thought we would grow old together, but we lasted through college.
I saw his face through my computer screen every Thursday night, laughing into the early hours. He texted me in the morning before school, and I answered back by lunchtime. We sent silly selfies back and forth. With every message received, my heart jumped.
I knew, to my core, this was love.
Modern technology had helped our relationship. When it ended, modern technology hindered our heartache.
I saw his face on Instagram every other week, grimacing as I scrolled past. I wrote passive-aggressive tweets in 140 characters, and he 'liked' them the next day. We messaged in the same group chat, never to each other. With every notification lit in green, my heart dropped.
This love was gone, and modern technology reminded me.
I knew, to my core, this was love.
Modern technology had helped our relationship. When it ended, modern technology hindered our heartache.
I saw his face on Instagram every other week, grimacing as I scrolled past. I wrote passive-aggressive tweets in 140 characters, and he 'liked' them the next day. We messaged in the same group chat, never to each other. With every notification lit in green, my heart dropped.
This love was gone, and modern technology reminded me.
In many ways, this modern age hasn't changed love. Love evolved with us.
We are the paradoxical generation. More cynical about romance but still searching for our soulmates. Assured there will be The One, someone for us, anyone. With technology, it becomes easier to find them, connect with them, and stalk their social media profiles until you know exactly what they had for brunch in June 2013.
We are the paradoxical generation. More cynical about romance but still searching for our soulmates. Assured there will be The One, someone for us, anyone. With technology, it becomes easier to find them, connect with them, and stalk their social media profiles until you know exactly what they had for brunch in June 2013.
Yet the feelings remain the same.
The butterflies in your stomach still flutter.
Your lingering stares still hold passion.
Their 'I love you' still matters.
The book carried me through an emotional process. This Modern Love reminds me that today's form of love is no worse nor better than love of the past. Love is love is love. Regardless of time and place.
This modern love is still love, and it is beautiful.
glasses : SpecSavers | shawl : Adlina Anis
top : TopShop | dress : (thrifted)
boots : (similar)
SHOP THE LOOK HERE
Photos by
This Modern Love is available on Amazon.
Despite the title of this post, I wanted to recreate a 70s inspired outfit.
I wore this Topshop Flared Top during London Fashion Week, pairing it with a thrifted black swing dress. I noticed modest fashion bloggers wearing long sleeves tops over sleeveless dresses. Though hesitant at first, I conceded. Now, I can't stop wearing them.
To finish off, I wore Adlina Anis Chiffon Onesie in Dusty Rose. Though I'm not a fan of pink, the colour brought a sense of romance. One needed when writing about this modern love, both the book and concept.
Despite the title of this post, I wanted to recreate a 70s inspired outfit.
I wore this Topshop Flared Top during London Fashion Week, pairing it with a thrifted black swing dress. I noticed modest fashion bloggers wearing long sleeves tops over sleeveless dresses. Though hesitant at first, I conceded. Now, I can't stop wearing them.
To finish off, I wore Adlina Anis Chiffon Onesie in Dusty Rose. Though I'm not a fan of pink, the colour brought a sense of romance. One needed when writing about this modern love, both the book and concept.
So, what do you think of this modern love?
with love,
He's got his head stuck in the clouds.
Only he could make the void so beautiful.
I pressed my head against his shoulder, hand on his chest. His breath was steady, so I followed. He knew where he was, where he stayed, where we left. So distant from the world, far away from those on the ground. He cherished his place in the heavens, forgetting the forsaken.
I asked him to take my hand. He refused to come down. But I never asked him to leave, only to let me follow. He still refused.
That boy's got his head in the clouds. No one was ever going to bring him down.
That boy's got his head in the clouds. No one was ever going to bring him down.
He keeps a cigarette tucked between his lips, strikes a match and finally lights up. He absorbs himself in the poison. Inhales toxins, exhales burden. I watch him blow smoke, I see his shoulders relax, and I almost catch him smile. He only smirks, never smiles.
"I shouldn't have done that," he chuckles to himself. I agree. He still finishes the whole pack.
His thoughts are clouded by sour memories he thinks he's accepted and mistaken metaphors we can't quite comprehend. 'I'm an old soul,' he likes to say. I nod along. He's too young to know and I'm too young to care.
I know enough my place in his world is brief. I care enough to make it last.
I know enough my place in his world is brief. I care enough to make it last.
"You are so young, so beautiful, and you've got your own world waiting for you."
He tells me things I already know. Whispers wisdom in the dark under wrinkled sheets. There is a kindness in his voice, slow drawls so tender. Almost as if he makes sense. I say nothing. Instead, I close my eyes and listen to his sermon.
"I have nothing," he continues, "I like being alone, and I'm fine with that..." His speech wanders. He has so much to say yet no one listens. I try, but in his arms, words suffuse and fade. I drift off to sleep where I feel most free. He floats away, back to his sanctuary in the clouds.
When I wake up, he is gone.
Wafts of his cologne still fog the air. It leaves me dazed. I cling to the bedsheets, I pretend he's here and perhaps, I think, he'll reappear. Hours pass before I stand. In my misty state, I pull the curtains back. I smile.
Wafts of his cologne still fog the air. It leaves me dazed. I cling to the bedsheets, I pretend he's here and perhaps, I think, he'll reappear. Hours pass before I stand. In my misty state, I pull the curtains back. I smile.
There is a clear blue sky; sun shining and no clouds in sight.
end.
glasses : Ebay | shawl : ShawlByVSnow
blouse : Missguided | shirt : Primark | pants : CoveredbyAnnisa
SHOP THE LOOK HERE
SHOP THE LOOK HERE
Photos by
Time Optic Productions
Time Optic Productions
This is a work of fiction.
Obviously.
Head in His Clouds is in collaboration with Time Optic Productions. It was absolutely wonderful to work with them, having such a fun time filming this whole piece. In conjunction with this post, they made video here. Go check it out!
Obviously.
Head in His Clouds is in collaboration with Time Optic Productions. It was absolutely wonderful to work with them, having such a fun time filming this whole piece. In conjunction with this post, they made video here. Go check it out!
So, have you met a boy in the clouds?
Happy Eid Al-Fitri everyone!
The blessed month has arrived to celebrate the end of Ramadan.
I wait for this time to reflect all the changes in life since the last Eid. My cheeks are fuller, braces no longer, and still loving Eid. It is the time of year I look most forward to, if only to dress up nice and show you my outfits.
So here are my outfits from Eid!
shawl : Radiusite | dress : Poplook | jewellery : (family heirlooms)
shoes : Prada
Going simple for the first day of Eid, because I didn't do anything.
This Poplook dress was from its 2016 collection. Originally my sister's but I managed to slip into it for this year. Barely, I might add. I realised how much weight I gained since last year when the dress couldn't lift past mid-thigh.
Radiusite Oxford Shawl added a bolder print to the look, matching the dress' light blue-grey hues.
This Poplook dress was from its 2016 collection. Originally my sister's but I managed to slip into it for this year. Barely, I might add. I realised how much weight I gained since last year when the dress couldn't lift past mid-thigh.
Radiusite Oxford Shawl added a bolder print to the look, matching the dress' light blue-grey hues.
shawl : dUck Scarves | dress : Jovian Mandagie | jewellery : (family heirlooms)
shoes : Charles & Keith
I bought this Baju Kurung set the next day I arrived in Brunei.
Still half-asleep when we drove to Bajoo, in search of new Eid dresses. Since I returned half-way through Ramadan, everyone had bought their clothes and I had leftovers. Searching through the racks, my mother picked up Jovian Izu Baju Kurung in Blue from their LS for Jovian collection.The shantung and heavy crepe fabric wrapped around my figure, and printed skirt fell just above my ankles.
I fell in love as soon I put it on. Much to my delight, the LS for Jovian Baju Kurung is available on Zalora! (Use ZBAPD013 for 15% off!)
As a contrast to the blue top, I wore dUck Matte Satin Silk Scarf in Sweet Chili. It matched the skirt's pink-reddish hues. My mother made sure the metal tag hung over my shoulder. The little duck sat secure, as if it was proud of its wearer.
shawl : Asha Karim Collection | dress : Bajoo | jewellery : (family heirlooms)
bag : Moschino
bag : Moschino
I'm not going to lie. I feel like such a Jackie O in Bajoo's Rania from their Eid collection. The flared tiered sleeves and ostrich plumes add interesting elements to the top. Whilst the long black skirt drapes to the floor like a mermaid's tale. What else can I say? I looked fantastic.
You can tell how much I adore this specific Asha Karim Scarf as I wore it last Eid and during London Fashion Week. The soft teal blue and silver-grey embroidery is perfect. It provides the pop of colour I always seek whenever I wear a black ensemble.
DAY 1: POPLOOK & RADIUSITE | DAY 2: JOVIAN & DUCK
DAY 3: BAJOO & ASHA KARIM
Three days spent driving around in a car, meeting friends and family, and dressed in my best. It's fun, it's nice, it's good.
I forget why I love Eid so much until it is Eid. It is for my friends and family, and myself. To take a step back and focus on the loves of life. And clothes. Because obviously.
What do you like to wear for festive events?
"she took the midnight train, going anywhere."
No, she took the Piccadilly Line to SoHo.
She makes her way through the busy London streets. A rugsack over her shoulder and headscarf wrapped quickly. Always with a cup of coffee in one hand, the other pushing her glasses up. Dresses for the wet weather but forgets about the puddles. Heels always soaked by the end of the day. This is the life chosen and the life lived.
The small town girl lives a big city life. Hoping she won't shatter like the big city dreams.
She makes her way through the busy London streets. A rugsack over her shoulder and headscarf wrapped quickly. Always with a cup of coffee in one hand, the other pushing her glasses up. Dresses for the wet weather but forgets about the puddles. Heels always soaked by the end of the day. This is the life chosen and the life lived.
The small town girl lives a big city life. Hoping she won't shatter like the big city dreams.
it has been three weeks since I went to
london fashion week
London itself is a hectic city. London, during Fashion Week, is another kind of hectic. Beautiful people wearing precise makeup, clothes picked meticulously. I could only watch in awe, my heart beating and mouth agape.
It is exciting to watch the week unfold onscreen. To watch it in real life is exhilarating. The outfits I wore was only a fraction of my week in London. The week was spent going from show to show, all across London. Worried I might forgot about every detail, I did what any sane person would do.
I filmed it.
wow.
Outfit planning stressed me out. Even though it shouldn't.
I spent weeks meticulously planning my outfit for the four day I attended. Which then proceeded to crash and burn due to unforeseen circumstance. Nevertheless, I found myself lucky with pieces to wear. New clothes hanging on the rack. I squealed as I coordinated each outfit for each day.
So here are my outfits for four days of London Fashion Week.
you smile.
"For tonight?" I ask, just as arms wrapped around my waist.
You nod.
"For tonight."
"For tonight."
I smile, caressing your face nuzzled in my shoulder. I can imagine you differently. I let your face remain the same. Brown hair and flushed skin. Slender and young, a wickedness lighting your eyes. I'll call you beautiful for tonight, as you will call me perfect. Plain lies we tell ourselves, and I almost believe it.
This isn't love, but we can pretend it is.
"There is not a single word in the whole world
That could describe the hurt."
That could describe the hurt."
I kept your heart in a glass box.
You gave it so willingly, asking me to keep it safe. You kissed my hands and wished me well. So I left it in the box, tucked away in my drawer. Every night since, I checked to see if it still beats for me. I always smiled at its glow. Tonight was different. Tonight, I removed it from its cage. Tonight, I held your heart in my hand.
This is where we end.
I never wanted this to happen. Staring at the concrete ground, refusing to look at you. My breath slow and tears swelling. I hold everything back, you say nothing. We both realise then where we stand. After a long silence, I finally speak. Three words; barely a whisper. I repeat it again and again, until I cry.
“I’m so sorry.”
How were you to know, we would end like this?
H I T M E W I T H
T H A T S T R E A M O F D O P A M I N E .
I want your sugar in my veins. Blood is too bitter for my body. A shot is all I need. When I inhale the smoke and seed, you are all I feel. I don't want to feel anything but this. As I float away, grasping at your ecstasy, I find you everywhere. Under your influence, I don't want to let this go.
Yet, I can't take this. Once my mind clears, I know. There is no clarity with you, just empty bliss. But once struck by your eyes, I'm hooked on your spell. I can only think of you. There is a wickedness to your smile, and I wipe it away. I need to ask;
" I S T H I S B Y D E S I G N O R R A N D O M F A T E ? "
But who does? When faced with the uncertainty of certain farces, we cower behind humour and sarcasm. I keep my head forward, back straight and feet planted to the concrete. Dressed in black to suit the forsaken. Large rims hiding tired eyes, and lips parted to breathe. Wandering around the streets, alone in the crowd. I am lost.
I lost myself.
And maybe that's okay.
I A L W A Y S W O R E A U N I F O R M
From kindergarten to sixth form, I wore patterned skirts, plain white dress shirt with a square scarf. For nearly 12 years, I knew what to wear every school day. The uniform hanged on my rack without much change, save for a few faint stains. Everyone looks like everyone else, no one bothers looking nicer in a sea of plain white fabric.
University is a little different but the same nevertheless.
Looking nice for the first few days then changes to a new kind of uniform. Sneakers, hoodie and bedhead. Like every other girl in university. Luckily, I organised an outfit. Just for the first day.
' M Y S U B J E C T I S W A R ,
A N D T H E P I T Y O F W A R . '
- W I L F R E D O W E N
And war is upon us.
I feel it underneath sickly skin, sending shivers down my spine. The sun hides my disdain, so I lavish in its warmth some more. Begging the sun shall never set but knowing night will fall. I strap my boots tight, tall and sharp. I ready my armour, painted leather and green.
I kiss my lovers goodbye, that I pray to see again. Then march into battle, to wage war against no one.
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