Month: Dec 2015

Colour, I Fear You Not

When it comes to wearing colour, there are three categories of people.   Those who embrace it wholeheartedly, happily mixing not just two but four, sometimes five, different colours all into one same outfit.  Oftentimes throwing in a pattern or print into the mix just for the fun of it. Then there are those who, while not partial to a rainbow parade for a single look, approach colour with the comfort and ease of meeting an old friend.  There is confidence in strategically using colour as an accent point.  Or to deliver a message. And then we have the group of souls who revels in a monochromatic world.  A world dominated by black and by white.  With grey or beige or the deepest, darkest of blue making the occasional cameo.  Colour doesn’t show up here very often. Personally, I fall somewhere in between the last two categories.  My wardrobe is no longer completely dominated by blacks (see, that there is a Mustard-coloured sleeve peeking out), and I’m not all that intimidated by colour any more.  …

The Fab 40s In Faux Fur

Nearly 100 million Americans think buying and wearing fur is “morally wrong, what do you think?   Personally, I don’t have any objections either way, a sentiment you’ve heard me express before in the past.  Granted, real fur isn’t for everyone and for those who have made the decision not to wear it, I most certainly respect that.  By the same token, I firmly believe that they too, in turn, ought to respect the rights of those who choose real fur. While no one bats an eyelid when animal rights activists vocalise their choices and opinions, I’ve always wondered why I’ve had to defend my decision to wear fur.  Why the fear of disapprobation is (very often) enough to keep me and my coat from venturing out in public together.  True, in Houston, temperatures don’t really dip all that low to justify putting on my coat, and answering shitloads of questions about my choice of outerwear. That said, there are days when a poor circulatory system means my fingers and toes are perpetually cold, and …

Bomb Diggity Denim Jacket

When it comes to denim, there are a few things we’ve come to expect.   Warm weather-appropriate cuts. Separates, dresses and accessories that are as appealing as they are comfortable, lightweight pieces ideal for layering in transitional temperatures. But that isn’t to say we don’t constantly crave (seek out, even) elements of newness, to stand apart within that world of chambray and blue. And that’s especially the case when it comes to denim jackets.  Anyone who says differently needs a schmack on their Pinocchio noses.  I’m just sayin’. It’s clear that to create a truly successful denim look, one has to be able to achieve a harmonious boy-meets-girl aesthetic.  Be it that the more tomboyish fabric (otherwise known as denim), gets a sweet update in terms of trims or cuts, or that ultra feminine silhouettes the likes of dresses and long skirts are fabricated from what’s traditionally-a-man-ish-fabric-called-denim. It’s all about a feminine tweak here and a bit of experimentation there.  Take for instance this bomber jacket.  It’s a 2-in-1 concoction.  The Grey flannel vest with …

The Mineral Difference

When it comes to mineral make-up, I am about as clueless as can be.   Let’s go back 20 years ago when I bought my very first compact, the MAC Studio Fix Powder Plus Foundation which was, in essence, a 2-way cake.  Having never used make-up prior to that, I bought every sales pitch coming out of Ginger’s mouth (my MAC salesperson) and went home with a bag of stuff.  Like a mountain of stuff which I ended up not using because (a) I’m lazy; (b) I had no idea which was for what; and (c) I forgot I even had them. Anyway, the point here is that I used my MAC compact religiously for so many years, through different skin tones (cringe), and I have to say, I really hated it. It was gunky and yucky.  It looked fake and dated.  I looked fake and dated. It was only when I moved to the States in 2010 did I pluck up the courage to ask the MAC sales people (not Ginger, this time it …

Of Capes & 221B Baker Street

There’s something about in-your-face-red-streaks. Streaks in one’s hair, I mean. Not on the face.   For one, it’s hard to be missed in a crowd which may not seem major to most but is, in truth, rather vital for someone who’s only 5 feet tall.  Yes, I’m the one with her feet on the bench when doing barbell presses for the pecs.  Stop laughing.  It’s not always easy being on the starting end of the measuring tape. But this post is about capes.  And the occasional crusading.  Not about my height.  Or lack thereof.  So we move on. I’ve had a thing for capes (or, if you prefer, trench coats with capes) since 1983, since my first Sherlock Holmes tome, The Hound Of The Baskervilles.  Capes and bags shaped after what’s arguably the most iconic coat in modern television folklore. But, of course, I wasn’t about to put together an outfit post too closely based on Mr Holmes’ wardrobe.  The man had an air of mystery and intrigue in spades, a certain sense of savoir …