Showing posts with label style. Show all posts
Showing posts with label style. Show all posts
"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.
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.
H A P P I N E S S I S . . .
You.
Watching you sleep. Your breath short and staggered from nightmares where I can't save you. Yet I still watch you. Wishing I could fight the demons alongside you. Instead, I brush through your madcap locks and wait for your return.
You see me in your dreams. Young in a field of flowers, the meadow reaching our chests. I stand beside you as a friend, paramour and rival. But in that moment, everything falls. What is left is us, and our desire for nirvana. So close within our reach.
Then you woke up.
You see me in your dreams. Young in a field of flowers, the meadow reaching our chests. I stand beside you as a friend, paramour and rival. But in that moment, everything falls. What is left is us, and our desire for nirvana. So close within our reach.
Then you woke up.
I F I W A S A D A Y ,
I W O U L D B E M O N D A Y .
No one enjoys Monday, much preferring Sunday's sweet laughs or Friday's wild temper. Monday begins her slow start with a third coffee. Monday is never a favourite, but that was never her purpose.
A reckless recluse struggling through. Eyes squinting beneath sunglasses from the scorching sun. It heats her morning cup. Tight grip in hand and tumbles through life. Monday wakes up grumpy and sleepy but carries on to move forward. For the rest of your days to feel joy, she will consume the woe.
Monday begins with you and stays with you to remind you. The problems you must stride through and perils you hide from. Monday prepares and helps in her own ways.
You'll leave Monday for better days, but Monday still remains. Always there for you.
N O T H I N G I S E V E R B L A C K A N D W H I T E
Unfortunately.
Everything shades itself in dull grey than pitch black or pure white. Thoughts are complicated, tangled in a circumscribe mind. Our black and white ideas battles itself into a quiver of clouds left unsatisfied. So we end our thoughts with half-ended summaries to explain.
This realization unfolded when my package from NewChic* arrived. And reminded me why life is so grey.
This realization unfolded when my package from NewChic* arrived. And reminded me why life is so grey.
L I F E I S B U I L T O N A S E T O F R U L E S.
Of what to do's, and what not to do's. Ingrained in our brains since childhood. Developed until teenagehood. Ignored by adulthood and eventually repeated by elderhood. We are in an endless cycle of rules and regulations. Most of them set by ourselves.
It's difficult to decide what rules to follow when we don't know what is there to do. So many things to do and not to do.
So what do you want to do?
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