Shorts for work? Oh goodness!! Scandalous!! Fashion has always been my favourite form of escapism. Reading, writing, dancing, sketching. They all come a close second. But fashion. Fashion has, is, and will always be the tabernacle upon which I worship. Religiously. Since I was 6 years old to be precise. Since I caught sight of my very first Issey Miyake piece. And then laid my hands upon a coffee table book cataloguing what goes into the creation of a collection, courtesy of the god known as Bruce Oldfield (shamefacedly I confess to pinching this from the British Council library). From then on, I was fairly obsessed with all things style and fashion-related. Mostly European, primarily British the likes of Zandra Rhodes, Jasper Conran, Vivienne Westwood, Arabella Pollen, Philip Treacy. Life in Kuching was a bit of a bubble. A complete style bore. Yawn. Far and away from the fashion world or cultural meccas like Paris, New York, Milan, London or Tokyo. I used to think of it as a fashion wasteland. And it...