That bitch stinks. Sorry but I just couldn't help it. Lol jk, my nose was itchy.
Being AWOL for so long from blogging (an estimation of 300 years), it let me to ponder: 'What should I come up with to encapture my readers once again?' I tapped my index and middle fingers on my laptop, my keyboard (pretending to type something intellectual but actually I was just playing with the alphabets j & k; no pun intended), my chin and then my forehead, thinking that this idiosyncrasy would actually spark a eureka. As I sat in front of my MacBook whilst staring into the bird's eye view of Central Park (my desktop image) which gradually shifted into a hypnotizing mirage of dimensional shapes that constructed my screen saver, I couldn't help but wonder: 'Am I going to lose it? My sense of style?'
Then it hit me, 'Have I been actually dressing to my taste palette lately?'
In retrospect, I've been cladding myself in basics (not to be mistaken with The Basic), which comprised of indistinguishable hues of white, grey and light denim. Have I started to conform to the 'Basic chic' (again, not to be confused with: dressing as The Basic) trend, or am I simply getting lazier as the year progresses? I started to contemplate, whilst I stared into my overly stuffed closet, while I crossed my arms, and again, using the same index and middle fingers to tap on my elbows.
Is it the fact that, with an uncanny similarity to the omnipresent mental state of every genetically coded XX individual, I have nothing to wear? I recently pulled out an overly dyed navy cropped vintage floral printed shirt from Topshop, thinking that it might go well with that long forsaken deep scarlet skinny jeans. I was cynical, yet exhilarated at the same time. I've always believe that navy actually could really look ineffable with the contrast that red exudes. I hastily buttoned up the shirt and slipped those skinny jeans on. I then stood in front of the mirror.
'No, this isn't working out.'
I stripped down the skinny jeans with utter disgust. Why does it look so horrible? Was it because the scarlet was too deep, or was I too deep into thinking that they (the colours) were meant to be? I paced up and down in my room, deliberating on the mistaken I've done, whilst trying to come up with a new look since I'm only down to my underwear. All of a sudden, I had eye contact with the pile of denim blue on the corner of my bed.
'My jeans! Thank god for jeans!', I cried out loud, literally.
Fast forward to now: It took me about quite some time to come to this cogitation, 'Why not ignite this post with something I've a forte in?'
Denim! Canadian Tux! Eureka!
Day one to this trilogy depicts a scene whereby I'm actually heading to my (imaginary) work place in Condé Nast during early summer, which is why I would prefer to look slightly professional (albeit overly relaxed) with my Feist Paloma Denim Suit that was kept untouched in my closet. Since it's early summer, a Leopard Printed Shirt from Zara tucked loosely at the front would do the trick. And as I slipped on my trusty Ecru Superga, I couldn't help but wonder: 'Is that really office appropriate?' Whatever. I'm off to work!
Lol jk I wished I work in Condé Nast.
On day two while I woke up, I felt like riding my bad-ass bike to work instead of using the conventional way. Hence I thought of throwing on a simple striped top and a Zara Denim Jacket to emit the 'Hey don't mess with me and my bike' vibe. Since I've to pimp my ride, I thought skirts or shorts would result me to reveal my sexy thong, hence I kept my neatly tapered jeans (from Zara too, what's new) on to prevent that eye-sore exposure.
Day three zooms in on the fact that I'm wearing Zara Onesies, in retrospect with childhood days whereby onesies are the 'in' thing for toddlers, with strappy sandals, rummaging through my ten dollars white oversized clutch trying to emulate Carrie Bradshaw in distress (the usual, this time round the feeling was more intense).
'This is so apt to being Carrie Bradshaw! I'm just in the wrong country and climate.'
'Lol stop dreaming.'
Image credits Monochrome Mafia