Let’s start the weekend off with this brilliant piece of advice from Mary Oliver, shall we?
Posts by Sheela Goh
Do you ever feel intimidated to write something based on a theme? That despite not feeling the topic, you’re supposed to create something because the empire of bloggers has decreed it as the IT subject of the moment?
Truth be told, I have a new found respect for consistent bloggers and the art of blog continuity. By that I do not mean those of us with entourages and support teams. I mean those of us who are, simultaneously, blogger, photographer, developer, promoter extraordinare, full-time employee, parent, you know who you are. How many times have we sat with our hands poised over the keyboard, running thoughts through our minds and just as the words begin to flow, something happens. Distractions. Duties. Demands. So yes if you’ve been blogging on a regular basis, I am in awe.
It’s not easy.
Take this post for instance. It’s taken me 3 months to finish. You read right, three months, to complete it into the piece you’re now reading. As I type that, there’s this huge goofy grin plastered all over my face. Goofy peppered with more than just a hint of embarrassment :) it is what it is. Taking the time to think and then verbalise those thoughts into words is_so_hard. Especially when your only free moments happen in between running the dishwasher and taking laundry out of the dryer.
But but but I’ve decided to pen it here because if it’s out there for the world to see, I have to make good on my word, yes?
So here it is – from hereon, I baptise Tuesdays as Truth Tuesdays. The day when I can talk about anything I want, from the heart, full tilt truth. I commit commit COMMIT to, if nothing else, blogging once a week, every Tuesday like clockwork.
What about you? Are there any blog post promises you’ve made but have yet to keep?
Tell the truth now.
xo Sheela xo
It seems almost sacrilegious to pledge allegiance to just one designer. Basic fundamentals aside, is fashion not about reinventing oneself? Being constantly unexpected? Eschewing predictability? Do we not hear the doyens preach the pertinence of being fresh, being new, being different? With that mindset, I pen my thoughts and explain how I, being enamoured of multiple labels, can stay true to all without being disloyal to one.
An ode would be amiss without the inclusion of the Japanese sensei, Issey Miyake, the man credited with creating organised chaos from calm. His deft hand in manipulating fabrics into dimensional pleats was the catalyst to my passion for the seemingly frivolous world of fashion at the age of 7. I recall quite distinctly that my very first design was actually inspired by a bucket of water that was in the bathroom of my parents’ home in 1983. I was fascinated by the stark contrast created by the steel, rigid curved handle against the soft, plastic which was used to fabricate the body of the bucket. Sidenote: imagine what a wondrous world we would live in if we never lost sight of seeing beauty in everything???
Next we have the Mad Hatter. That’s Philip Treacy to you. What a brilliant, mad genius. His eccentricity is what convinced me to always march to the beat of my own drum. Always. Very often, it’s easy for us to kowtow to the parameters (or expectations, shall we say) dictated by society and to mould our personalities to conform thereto. The Mad Hatter has taught me otherwise, and I am forever grateful for that. I have fond memories of wearing Black Suede Pixie Boots with Black & Silver Harem Pants topped with a Black Tube Top (yeah, that’s what they were called back in the day) and traipsing around town with Metallic Copper Lippy, all under the hot 34 Celcius sun that was typical of life in Sarawak. And this was 1986. Good times, good times. Somehow, along the way of growing up and (attempting to) act(ing) like a mature adult, I grew conscious of what people would think. I really need to stop that. Like really.
And, naturally, like many others, I too had a tabernacle set up in the name of McQueen. I worshipped his broody, dark mind, so powerful in its stark bleakness yet so incredibly vulnerable in its evident fragility. I worshipped the power of his madly glorious confections which were, simultaneously, empowering as they were endearing. And I anticipated his next collection with as much relish as a man thirsting for water in the desert, truly. His ability to create the wearable out of the clearly unwearable was pure genius. To turn the classic into something utterly avant garde, brilliant. To see beyond just looking. This is going to sound incredibly clichéd but I’ll say it anyway ~ he helped me realise that you MUST look past the obvious to find the unusual. You simply must. While that might sound elementary, it’s certainly something many of us should remember (and put to use) these days. Without doubt, the impeccable craftsmanship and deployment of unapologetically flamboyant colours continue to this day but, for me, Ms Burton’s pieces are devoid of that raw edge so clearly evident in the past, leaving the garments to appear as, well, merely beautiful garments.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, about sums up the three top brands I would quite happily kill to work with :) which are your choice labels?
p/s many thanks to IFB for putting this as the week’s challenge, it was fun :)
“I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner…I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.”
Midweek dose of sage.
I can finally lay claim to having my Botox Cherry popped and quite recently too. No, not for the reason very likely flashing across your brain just about now :)
When I was 19, my then boyfriend and I were involved in a serious accident. We were on his Scrambler bike turning right when a car rammed into us. I literally flew about 20 feet and landed with my head hitting the curb. To this day, I’m thankful for what seemed to be a splurge prior to the accident ~ $500 crash helmets. That saved my life. I suffered a broken wrist, a chunk of flesh scraped off my right shin (gross, I know) and a dent on the back of my skull. It’s the latter which proved to be the catalyst for my Chronic Migraine. Although, at the time, I simply chalked it down to really bad headaches. Afterall, it was 1992 in Sarawak and medical facilities were, let’s say, wanting.
A month ago, my Ophthalmologist (bless you, Dr Pham) referred me to a Neurologist because uniformed prints were starting to hurt me. As in physically hurt my eyes to the point of kickstarting a migraine. I was seeing halos around just about everything. And then there were those Migraine Storms, horrid bouts of pain which attacked at ferocious speed, leaving me (temporarily) blind in one eye.
I’d tried just about every medication under the sun. Read popping as many as 20 Ibuprofens at a time, to no avail. So when my Neurologist, Dr Woon, told me that I qualified for Botox as Migraine Therapy, I was eager to try it, raring to go. I mean, I’ve reached the stage wherein it isn’t so much as whether I have a migraine today as it is when was the last time I didn’t have a migraine. Also, a girlfriend in Dallas had been on Botox treatments for close to a year now and the frequency of her migraine attacks had dropped drastically from twice a week to once every month, less at times.
It’s been just shy of a week since my virgin round of injections and from what Dr Woon’s told me, it’s way too soon to tell. That it takes at least a full week for the Botox to kick in. I can’t wait. It’s been so long since I’ve had a migraine free day that I can’t even remember how it feels to not have my head pound anymore :) I’ll keep you posted.