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Shall We Be Friends | Sheela Writes

Shall We Be Friends?

I want to be your friend

Do you want to be my friend too?


I’m not quite sure how to begin this post.  Wait, actually, I do.  I want to preface things by saying that my husband was is fully aware (and supportive) of every app and website I’ve joined, in my pursuit of finding myself a friend.  Or three.  And that when I first embarked upon this journey, mah boo thought I was stepping out on my man.  Shaking my head.  Alright, moving on.

So yes.  Building upon my earlier post, for the last 6 to 8 weeks, I’ve been trying to make friends.  And in this day and age, that basically translates into seeking people out online, and introducing oneself electronically, all in the hopes of “connecting”.  An entirely new concept for me.  Something I’ve never done before because, you know, I’m in my 40s and I’m old school, and I’ve never been particularly fond of people to begin with.  Let me regale you with what I’ve been doing to achieve all that.  And the results thereof.

No judging, ok?

A N D    N O    L A U G H I N G

Shall We Be Friends | Sheela WritesShall We Be Friends | Sheela WritesShall We Be Friends | Sheela WritesShall We Be Friends | Sheela Writes

Denim Jumpsuit (AmiClubwear) | Bomber Jacket (purchased in Sarawak) | Blue Booties (GX by Gwen Stefani) | Oversized Sunnies (Poshmark) | Lipstick (Leo @ Kylie Cosmetics)

A cursory search on the world wide web yielded page upon page of dating websites.  Places where you meet your soulmate.  Or if you want to get laid.  Or be a part of some kinky game.  I’m not judging, believe me.  Your likes and dislikes are your prerogatives.  What I am bitching about, however, is the dearth of websites wherein you can actually connect with people.  Be it on a professional level.  Or based on shared interests.  To network, and perhaps build upon that initial contact to (hopefully) acquire a friend with time.

Because these websites are so misleading, I tell you.  They preach networking and making friends that you can eventually meet IRL (I got with the programme) when in reality, it’s mainly only about girl + girl hooking up.  Or girl + girl + (surprise, unexpected) guy hooking up.

S   I   G  H

Shall We Be Friends | Sheela WritesShall We Be Friends | Sheela WritesShall We Be Friends | Sheela WritesShall We Be Friends | Sheela Writes

I felt very stupid, yes. 

Naive and gullible, and stupid.

Not that I’m blaming the website per se.  Much.  It’s the users themselves who shape what they’re looking for ultimately, yes, but for someone like me who is earnestly trying to expand her network to beyond her husband, her children, and her parents, it has been a frustrating ordeal.  For instance, I don’t think I’ve ever received as many nude images or pictures of genitalia in my entire life as I have over the previous two months.

Nor have I ever been so exposed to such an onslaught of interesting (and I use that term loosely) words.  Unicorn.  FFM.  MMF.  DDF.  420 friendly.  Good lord.  All I wanted was a friend.

And learning that a Gender Nation Glossary exists out there.

I was not expecting any of this.

My head, it spun.

Shall We Be Friends | Sheela WritesShall We Be Friends | Sheela WritesShall We Be Friends | Sheela WritesShall We Be Friends | Sheela Writes

So, my dear friends, the conclusion of my friend-finding mission thus far is, well, that there is no conclusion.  I’m sorry.  I know it’s anti-climatic but that’s the gospel truth.  The sum of my endeavours spanning numerous websites and quite a number of apps, across a period of almost two months, I’ve come up empty.  Yup, empty.  It’s enough to drive a woman to find a friend the old fashioned way.  At the gym?  Starbucks (but I’d have to learn to drink coffee first, I suspect)?  The bookstore?  Perhaps even the park?  I don’t know.

Please do not get me started on networking events.  I’m not fond of them because (a) I don’t drink; (b) I don’t like crowds; (c) I don’t like networking; and (d) I don’t like people so no networking events.

Onward ho to my awesome gig now Jodie and her ladies, and Eve.

We began this Charlie’s Angels week with Natalie Cook on Monday.  And today, we have Dylan Sanders.  Tough and tomboyish, eclectic and cool, into grunge and band tee shirts, anything with a 70s vibe, jumpsuits, denim, and a very bold lip.

Eve, Teens (the world according to eve)

Eve | The World According To Eve

Everything Eve’s wearing should look all wrong together but hell if they don’t come together in the most chaotic of aesthetic bliss. From the stripes to the processions of ruffles and the B&W graphic print of palm trees on her pants, she is absolutely rocking her Dylan look.

Sheela, 40s (sheela writes)

Full disclosure: at this point, the entire side zipper had come apart and my jumpsuit was about to flap down over my chest, and torso, completely exposing me to the world.  Welcome to the dark (and creative) side of blogging.

Jodie, 50s (jodie’s touch of style)

Jodie | Jodie's Touch Of Style

This outfit of Jodie’s harkens not only to Dylan but also the original trio of ass-kicking Charlie’s Angels, in particular the character played by Kate Jackson.  In part gamine and boyish, in part whimsical and charming.  Utterly female.

Nancy, 60s (jodie’s touch of style)

Nancy | Jodie's Touch Of Style

Nancy and I are onesie twins this time around, hers leaning towards the plush side of burgundy in the softest, most feminine of fabrics.  She’s far from a wallflower though as clearly evidenced by that grungy denim jacket and equally hip boots with side buckles.

Charlotte, 70s (jodie’s touch of style)

Charlotte | Jodie's Touch Of Style

I can imagine Dylan wearing this as her version of  a power suit.  Making deals.  Wining and dining.  Getting the upper hand over egotistical megalomaniacs out to take over the world, without breaking a sweat.  And then breaking down into a goofy dance routine.

To date, you’ve seen us play Natalie Cook as well as Dylan Sanders, do you have a fave between these two fabulous ladies?  Or is Alex Munday (concluding the series on Friday) your muse?  Do tell.

Seriously though, if you have any ideas on how to lift myself out of this empty nest funk (and I say that because I really do want to make new friends, and not because it’s expected of me to have a social life), I would welcome them with open arms.

Please do also join in the discussion and leave me a comment, because many most of my posts are inspired by what you say, how you feel, your thoughts.


Love, Sheela

p/s my photos are by Sofia Touassa

I link up here.

I Friend You | Sheela Writes

I Friend You

I don’t like socialising very much

You see, I’m not a people person at all


Even from an early age (as in 5 years old), I was never very comfortable around people.  It mattered not one iota if they were older or if they were my peers, I’ve always only felt awkward.  An oddity on display that was sized up, assessed, and found wanting at rapid fire speed.  Note, of course, that much of this existed solely in my head, and that the people in my vicinity were, in truth, normal and nice, and completely sans nefarious intentions.

Naturally, I gravitated towards the world wide web when it became the zeitgeist of friend-making.  I mean, that’s how the man and I first met, online.

No muss, no fuss.

Z E R O    H A S S L E

You never had to meet in person (especially if they’re on the opposite end of the world, which makes for very interesting cultural comparisons), and when the cravings for solo time hit, you only had to log off to enjoy solitude and your own company.  God.  I sound like Scrooge McDuck.  Or the Grinch.  Take your pick, Cindy Lou Who.

I Friend You | Sheela WritesI Friend You | Sheela WritesI Friend You | Sheela Writes

Black Laced-Up Sweater & Blush Sock Boots (c/o Forever21) | Pink & Peach Camo Shorts (H&M) | Jewellery (c/o Kollectin) | Oversized Sunnies (Poshmark) | Military Green Leather Jacket (purchased in Australia) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics)

And for the longest time, I was perfectly content to live my life that way.

I had several friends (ladies whom I met either through the blog or a social media platform) who went on to become my online confidantes.  A mere handful, yes, but intentionally so.  I find it very hard to open up (yes, there are still several more layers to me, beyond everything I’ve shared on this blog), and the “friendship” very often quickly moves into that I’m the one on the listening end of the spectrum.  Again, I was fine with the way things were.  Why change the status quo?

And that’s how it remained until Eve went away to university.  All of a sudden, the house went from quiet to eerie radio silence.  Normalcy as I knew it was shredded to bits.  No longer could I build my day around the time of 3.20pm, when my baby would walk through the door after another day in hell high school.  That’s when I began to feel, well, lonely.

The sweetest little card from Jodie helped.  So much.  That woman is indeed a godsend and I should really make an effort to be, at the very least, 10% of a friend to her, as she is to me.

I Friend You | Sheela WritesI Friend You | Sheela WritesI Friend You | Sheela Writes

What kicked me in the ass and woke me up (finally) was when Eve texted me from campus saying that she was really worried I’d be lonely because I didn’t have friends.  That hit me very hard because (a) Eve was absolutely right in that I was feeling bereft and I didn’t have a single friend to hold my hand during this empty nest phase of my life; and (b) it is simply not cool for a child to worry about her parent.  Not in these sort of situations anyway.  So I made up my mind that I was going to socialise.

Come hell or waters high, I would make friends.

I’ve really been putting in the effort, and the results have been no less perplexing as the methods I’ve been experimenting with to make friends, all in the name of stopping my daughter from being thus distressed over her mother’s apparent self-imposed isolation.

Why perplexing?  Well, these days, it’s all about the app.  You make a friend via an app.  You hook-up via an app.  You could even meet your soulmate via an app.  Things have changed so much.  I’ll be sharing my findings (and whether or not I remain friendless, here, on Wednesday as well as Friday) so you need to come back and read them.  But truth, it’s a crazy ass place out there.


I Friend You | Sheela WritesI Friend You | Sheela WritesI Friend You | Sheela Writes

One thing has (blessedly) remained constant, and that is the joy we have when collaborating with Jodie and her ladies, Eve and myself, we do.  And what better theme to reflect the overall message of this entire post than Charlie’s Angels, wherein your very existence is dependent upon whether your BFF has your back.

Or not.

It seemed timely.

We begin with the inimitable style of Natalie Cook.  She’s adorable and cutesy and pretty, a little dorky and very goofy, the more “girly” of the group, loves one shoulder tops (well, loves showing off her arms and her shoulders in general), and proudly parades a string of pigtails and/or ponytails.

Eve, Teens (the world according to eve)

Eve | The World According To Eve

There is a reason why Eve’s high school nickname was Sassafras.  Is she not Little Miss Sassy Pants? With that demeanour and those pouty lips, then you throw in a lean, mean petrol sequin shift dress into the mix, and voila.  You have Natalie Cook if she were amped up on attitude with generous doses of kooky couture and “hell if I care” disposition.

Sheela, 40s (sheela writes)

I Friend You | Sheela Writes

I knew I wanted something completely unexpected.  Off kilter.  Not everyone’s cup of tea (just like Natalie) but gloriously uncaring of whether my outfit is a crowd-pleaser or not.  When I saw those pink camo shorts, I knew immediately they’d have a strong starring role.  So too my blush sock ankle boots which are as divine to the soles as they are to the eyes.  And to reflect that hint of sensuality in Natalie, the lace-up sleeves of that cropped black sweater.

Jodie, 50s (jodie’s touch of style)

Jodie | Jodie's Touch Of Style

I can oh so easily see Natalie wearing this outfit.  A casual approach to being sexy.  Nothing forced, nothing too obvious.  There really isn’t that much else I can see about Jodie and her look save that I adore it.  And that I would personally wear it in a heartbeat myself.  Those dangles of earrings and bohemian neckpiece are perfect finishing touches.  Just perfect.

Nancy, 60s (jodie’s touch of style)

Nancy | Jodie's Touch Of Style

Yet another “definite” Natalie Cook look right here.  From those subtly bared shoulders to those bold, brassy sunnies, Nancy has this nailed.  I particularly love how the palette is just SO demure and charming, yet when put together, delivers quite the aesthetic punch.  You go, girl.  Oh and them leather ankle booties with the pointy toes?  S-E-X-Y!!!

Charlotte, 70s (jodie’s touch of style)

Charlotte | Jodie's Touch Of Style

How often have you heard me declare that Charlotte’s my style role model?  Well, you’re going to hear it again from me, right now.  Look at her.  A divine interpretation of Natalie Cook.  Classic turtleneck.  Chain belt.  Pants hugging curves in all the right places.  Badass ankle booties.  Secret agent shades.  And is that a leather cuff I spy??  Day’yum.

I    C A N 'T    E V E N

So tell me, which angel are you?  Or are you the fallen angel?  Stay tuned for Wednesday (Dylan Sanders) and Friday (Alex Munday) when the remaining two characters make an appearance.  And who knows, perhaps Charlie will be there too.

Please do also join in the discussion and leave me a comment, because many most of my posts are inspired by what you say, how you feel, your thoughts.


Love, Sheela

p/s my photos are by Sofia Touassa

I link up here.

Learning From Younger Bloggers

We can learn, you know.

Learn from the PYT set, learn a lot.


Yes, I’m talking about them pretty young things who are half my age.  Now when I call you competitive here, I don’t mean malicious or vicious or mean (I love you, ladies!!!).  Quite the contrary, actually.  And it’s certainly not a sweeping statement meant to stereotype all females belonging to that age group.  To be clear, this post is specifically inspired by a group of young women I recently met in Dallas.  By their mannerisms and how they conducted themselves.  Indeed, it was my reaction to seeing how they behaved that spawned what you’re reading now.

Melodramatic much, you say?  Perhaps.

It was just the air with which they carried themselves.


Each one determined to own their five seconds of fame.

To be the most vocal (I’m referencing volume of speech, not quality thereof).  The most flamboyant peacock in the room.  I was easily the oldest in the summit (I accept this as the new norm) but there was a considerably large group of influencers in their 30s as well, none of whom were anywhere as forthright as the 20-somethings.

At the risk of sounding archaic, I’ve reached that point in my life whereby I’m (no longer) about being blatantly in someone’s face. I’ve seen enough to understand that subtlety often wins the day.  Unless, of course, I’m at the gym, in which case, all bets are off.

Which triggered a Eureka moment (I like drawing parallels, do you like discovering parallels?).

How different is the world of blogging compared to the world of working out?

Not much really.


The younger ones at the gym go at it, headlong, generally without a thought for potential consequences (pulled muscles, the heavier/faster/longer the better) because they feel invincible and all powerful.  And truth be told, they are in the sense that they heal much faster, they rebound loads quicker. And neither caution nor fear exist in their fitness vocabulary.

Now compare that to older gym rats (me).

We approach exercising with the mentality that it’s form above all.  That it’s not so much how heavy you can lift, it’s how you lift it.  And hold it.  Subscribing to the mantra of not just brute strength but also endurance, tempered with a modicum of savviness brought about by maturity, experience and age (yes, I’m playing that card).  All of which come together to create a workout with minimal injury, albeit displaying results at a slower pace.

I feel that’s how we tend to approach life, work, people.  With subtlety and a gentle (albeit nonetheless driven) hand.  Although, I suspect, we can learn a lot from the younger ones.  And that, in a roundabout fashion, is the heart of today’s bit of soul sharing.

That absence of trepidation and caution (which they display with an air of utter effortlessness), is often a recurring obstacle for many of us, serving only to hinder and restrain.  Prohibiting us from forging forward and walking the untrodden path.  Reminding us that the occasional act of throwing caution to the wind isn’t necessarily foolish but, at times, vital to personal growth, and living a life we love.

Personally, my biggest takeaway from meeting these ladies was a sense of liberation.  Yes, liberation.  Because in watching them, I realised how I’ve lived my life – fearfully.

Fear of not being enough (smart enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, rich enough).

Fear of being vulnerable.

Fear of being rejected.

Fear of failing.


Outfit & Boots (c/o Forever21) | Embroidered Velvet Clutch (Zara) | Rings & Oversized Sunnies (Poshmark) | Red Leather Cuff (c/o Unearthed) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics)

I shan’t get into the nitty gritty details but suffice to say I know what it means to allow fear to dictate one’s every decision.  After my encounter with these ladies, I’ve been slowly and (most certainly) deliberately rewiring my core beliefs.  Reframing my fears.  Renaming them, even, and working towards eventually releasing them.  And releasing myself.

I firmly believe that doing so will completely transform my world.  Resolve past trauma.  Fall in love with the person I was meant to be, and step into the future I’ve been dreaming about.

Do you think it’ll work?

Would you do it yourself?


Love, Sheela

p/s my photos are by Sofia Touassa

I link up here.




Looking inward.

Reassessing ourselves.


Now, self-examination does not necessarily lead to life balance or acceptance from others, I’ve found.  It does, however, lead to liberation and authenticity.  I say this with conviction because I’ve invested in a lot of self-examination, of late.  A lot.

Without self-examination, I’ve noticed that these things tend to happen:-

–  I seek comfort over greatness
–  I choose safety over risk
–  I embrace reassurance over authenticity
–  I prefer the predictable over the unknown
–  and I opt to take the well worn path over forging my own

Self-examination is a process of re-framing and refining how we see ourselves and the world.  It is a deep scrutiny of our beliefs, motives, relationships, triggers, wounds, purpose, feelings, thoughts, and actions.

And in the process, often we uncover something has to change so we can feel a greater sense of alignment between the life we are living and the life our soul wants to be living.

It might be the desire to change a relationship, a career or a habit.

Or the need to stop doing something or start doing something.

Self-expression may be calling your name as you venture into exploring your creativity and learn to sing, paint, dance.

You may be called find a mantra, explore a good book, or commune with nature.

You may start a non-profit, go on an adventure, or start a blog (hey).

In choosing self-examination, we are choosing to be in a conscious relationship with our soul.

Once you uncover the direction your soul wants to move, in there is a process of allowing what is no longer authentic to end, thus creating space for what is currently authentic to begin  (yes, I’ve come to realise that authenticity is a moving target, goddamnit).

As we migrate closer to the soul, we must trust that we will survive the time between our old world dying, and the birth of a brand new world us.

It can be a precarious transition, yes, one often accompanied by loneliness, confusion and grief.

And it is indeed sorely tempting to revive the old world, but if we are patient, we stand true to ourselves, and continue to connect to the world we want to belong to, then it will emerge.  I know it will.

One small step towards the life we want to be living is what will move us from where we are here and now, to where we want to be.


It is the only way to find our way home.

Love, Sheela

Finally made the transition to AV and am now on YouTube as well as Snapchat (sheela.goh), would adore your support through subscribing to my channel/adding my snaps. 

Pretty please?

p/s my photos are by Sofia Touassa

I link up here.

5 Things You Don’t Know About Me

For the most part,

I’m what you’d call an open book.


What you see is what you get with me.  Ish.  However, there are a few skeletons in my closet that I thought may be fun interesting to share with you today.  Come clean, you know, be real and all that.

Some are hilarious, some not so much.


(1) I ran away from home at 16.  Yes, I did.  In my defense, it wasn’t planned.  It was my  birthday, and my then boyfriend wanted to take me out to dinner, something which my parents (well, more so my Dad) really didn’t like.  My Dad hated all my boyfriends with a passion, my Mum tolerated them.  Barely.  Anyway, in the hours leading up to when Jackie picked me up, we were yelling and fighting, mostly over the fact that he was 22 to my 16.  Statutory rape isn’t all that commonly thought of in Asia when I was growing up.  That doesn’t make it right, believe you me, I know, it’s merely my way to explain the situation.  As the evening extended to the night, I was enjoying myself so much that I just didn’t want to go home.  The hours passed by, and soon, it was 3am.  By that time, I was much too petrified of the consequences to go home.  And so, I didn’t.  I stayed out all night, by myself, since by that point, I’d realised what a total ass Jackie was, dumping him quite soon after he declared his birthday gift to me was “deflowering” me.  Insert major eye rolling action.  I stayed out all of the next morning too, walking around.  So stupid.  So dangerous.

Around noon, my stomach was growling like crazy, I had no money (save for a few coins), and I was ready to go home.  Being still afraid of how my parents would react, I used one of three remaining coins to called my Aunt Sofia from a phone booth.  Made her swear that I wouldn’t get into trouble, arranged a place to meet, and then waited.  Half an hour later, a car stopped in front of me, and out came my Dad, with my aunt.  Arrgghh.  I was convinced I was in so much deep shit that it’d be a century before I’d see the light of day again.  Instead he hugged me tight, apologising for taking so long because he’d stop to buy my fave lunch (Hainanese Steamed Chicken Rice with innards).  As it turns out, they (my Dad, brother, uncles, relatives, everyone with a car) had spent the night scouring the streets looking for me.  Scared out of their minds that something had happened to me.

Suffice to say I never ever ran away from home again and while I wish I could say that my Dad and I never fought anymore (of course we did, this is real life), the way he (and my Mum) reacted to finding me/my coming home showed me how much they loved me.  And how reckless my actions were.  And so completely unnecessary.  From that day on, I we tried very hard to talk things through.  My parents did their best to let me “grow up“, while I did my best to see things from their perspective even when I thought they were overbearing and paranoid.

It has also made me SO grateful that Eve is nowhere near as rebellious and headstrong as her mother was is.  And I am SO sorry for everything I ever put my parents through.

(I talked more about the Jackie incident here)

(2) Would you believe I still have all my wisdom teeth?  They made their debut together, the four of them did, in early 1999 when I was about five months pregnant with Eve, and damn, did they hurt.  Because I was pregnant, I couldn’t take any painkillers so I popped ice cubes like they were candy, and Listerine was my beverage of choice.  In the remainder of my pregnancy, I must have guzzled close to 10 bottles of mouth wash, my friends.

Thankfully, all that discomfort wasn’t for naught.

Each of the wisdom teeth grew tall and straight so no extraction was necessary.  Added to that, I, apparently, still have some of my milk teeth which isn’t that uncommon, it would seem.  In my entire life, I’ve only ever lost three teeth (as confirmed by my parents) and then, well, and then it all stopped.  My man loves to tease me about being a baby, quite literally.

(3)  Now this one is going to sound very much TMI but I can’t pee while showering.  I simply can’t.  The thought of doing it makes me feel like a child who’s just wet her pants.  I know, I know, that sounds all weird and crazy and plain ole silly but that’s how I feel about the subject.

And that’s all I shall say which, I’m sure, you already think is way too much GRIN

(4)  Next one is something my family and my husband have been trying to change for years and years and years but to no avail.   I apologise in advance to all lovers of greens in advance but I do not eat vegetables.  Period.

I find them positively repulsive.  They make me want to throw up.  The sheer prospect of crunching down into, say, a stalk of celery, and then having that bit of water/juice squirt out terribly off-putting!!!  Shudder.  The only way to make greens palatable (in my eyes) is to flood in them some sort of sauce (not dressing, mind you, I find all forms of salad dressing equally vile) so my interpretation would be a bowl of thick sauce with a touch of veggie.

What about, you ask, bowel movements?  Well, there’s a reason why I eat loads of fruits and no less than 3 litres of water each and every single day.  To help internal plumbing along, so to speak.

I’ve tried, I’ve really tried, I swear.  From cooked-to-a-pulp mushy, baby-food-inspired concoctions to fresh-as-a-spring-day servings whose crunch factor is so prolific, it’s as though my chomping has given birth to an A cappella performance.  None have sat well with me, neither with digestive tract nor taste buds.  So no.  Thank you but no.  I’d rather take a Miralax.

(5)  This last one sounds odd.  Even to me.  I first wore glasses when I was 10.  I kept reading books, laying down on my bed, with a flashlight (yes, yes, clearly I wasn’t the smartest of kids but already a bookworm).  Then when I was 13, something happened (I’m not quite sure what) but it resulted in my not needing to wear glasses anymore.  Life continued until I was 16 and glasses popped back into my life, at least for the next 12 months because when I turned 17, I couldn’t wear them anymore.  They hurt whenever I tried to see through the lenses.  Back to the ophthalmologist I went and he concluded that I had gone back to having 20/20 vision.

Told you it was going to be a strange story.

Vision 20/20 stayed with me all the way until I was 41.  Then, with the onset of SLE in 2013, my eyesight went a seesaw-ing.  These days, I have a visit with Dr Pham (love her) every three months because that’s how frequently my vision changes.  My endocrinologist suspects it’s the combination of SLE + Menopause (which began at 37 for me) that plays such havoc on my hormones and, consequently, causes my eyesight to change so frequently.  It’s rather annoying, truth be told, and expensive but it is what it is.

Now comes a special, no, the special part of today’s post.  It’s a collaboration with my dear dear friend, Annie.  We’ve been through so much together and yet, have never met in person.  Something which I really hope will change one day soon.

I think of Annie as being the yin to my yang.  We share many things in common such as reading (she’s the librarian, I’m the nerdy bookworm), and an unhealthy obsession love for shoes (her treasure trove is overflowing with sneakers and shoes of all design and colours, mine stands with high heels in, yes, an equally riotous profusion of hues and embellishments), to name but two.

And we both have a daughter we absolutely dote on (hi, Gigi!!).

We chat all the time via WhatsApp and Instagram and email, and I very much think of Annie as my friend, one of my best girlfriends, if I am to be perfectly honest.  And it brings me such joy to share our latest collaboration with you today.

You’re right, Annie, it’s been far too long.

Given that we’re both a little goofy and we both love to have fun with our clothes, what better theme than playsuits!!  Until recently a foreign item of clothing to me, I am now convinced that playsuits are one of the easiest garments known to women.  Now this is something Annie has known from way back before because she (of those fabulous endless legs) has been using them from like forever.  You can see her (and those pins) here and here and here.  Clearly, she was onto the allure of playsuits from early days.

And here’s me.  In the one and only playsuit I own.

F O R    N O W

Bright Crimson Red Playsuit with Ruffles & Bows (H&M in Kuching) | Oversized Burgundy Sunnies (Poshmark) | Nude & Crimson Heels (JustFAB) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics)

Here’s to many more memories together, Annie!!!

And forgive any typos, friends, the right shoulder remains in a sling.  Up until my next post-surgery review visit which happens on the 6th, so everything here was finger-typed.


Love, Sheela

p/s my photos are by Sofia Touassa

I link up here.

The Short Story

Vertically challenged me

In all my 60 inch splendour


Here’s the thing.

I never thought of myself as being short until I came to live in the States.  Up until then, I considered myself average.  That came to a screeching halt in 2007.  All of a sudden, 5 feet nothing seemed like, well, nothing.

It was quite funny, actually.

If I was walking down the hallways of Eve’s middle school, I’d very often be mistaken for a student.  From the back, of course.  I mean, no matter the power of (youthful, seemingly age-defying) Asian genes, one can only look that much younger when viewed from the front (it’s like gazing into a mirror with 5x amplification, very humbling).

Victorian White Lace Blouse & Distressed Denim Shorts (both H&M in Kuching) | Sunnies (Poshmark) | Spiked Blush Booties (Shoe Ocean) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics)

Help was is always required when grocery shopping because, you know, the good stuff would invariably be placed on top shelves.

And public seats would always require some form of a foot step, you know.

Or a wee hop, skip, jump.

When it came to clothes, however, I was perfectly pleased to shop in the little miss department of Target and, yes, even Walmart because that was where the Olsen Twins first started selling their line of clothing.  Because let’s face it, even back then, they had stellar style.

Faux fur coats.  Sequinned patches on jeans.  Embellished knee high boots.  The most jaunty of animal print accessories.  Heavenly trims and bling and everything including the kitchen sink, done up tastefully, stylishly, and, above all, with a pinch of humour.


And since we’re being honest, there wasn’t anything too appealing hanging on racks in the women’s department at the time anyway.  Not for me.

Everything was either too frumpy.

Or too girly kiddish.

Clothes for grown-ass women veered towards being cute instead of empowering.  And that was something I could neither comprehend nor embrace.   But that’s a story for an entirely different setting.  Today, I’m playing on the word, “short“, and why wearing shorts has never been my thing.  Until lately.

Summer, to be precise.  When Eve cajoled (that’s putting it mildly, to be honest, essentially, she nagged and nagged and nagged, love you, boo!!!) me into purchasing my first ever pair of shorts from H&M while we were vacationing in Kuching.

Denim.  Cutoffs.  With distressed bits to boot.  And although it took four trips (and three returns/exchanges but hey, who’s counting?), I found my dream pair, which you now see before you, in its mid wash, low rise glory.  Paired with the prettiest white lace blouse ever.

I do apologise that this post lacks my usual from-the-heart-sharing theme but as I’ve just gone through rotator cuff surgery of the right shoulder (a week ago), finger typing is my MO for the time being, and it’s tiring to finger type a super long story.

And being right hand dominant for the most part, my greatest challenges have been to (1) draw my brows decently; and (2) apply mascara without poking my eyes (too often).

Do bear with me?  I have another three weeks of jail sling time to go.


Love, Sheela

p/s my photos are by Sofia Touassa

I link up here.

Alternative Therapy

Tatau. Tattoo.

The world of body art.


Some of my last few pieces have been on the serious side (alright alright, gloom and doom, and more gloom and doom), and I felt it high time to demonstrate that I actually do more with my life than just contemplate and ponder and dissect and analyse.  I really am a goofy (and occasionally) fun-to-be-around-with sort of person, pinkie swear (although you may want to ask Shelbee for her unbiased opinion, or perhaps Oby, or maybe you could drop Sofia a line to see what she has to say).  As such, for today (and perhaps the next post as well), allow me to share with you a few of the (major) cool things that Eve and I managed to do during our one week stay in Singapore. Once upon a time back in early June.  Shallow as the (vast majority of) people might be, there are still a gazillion and one epic things to partake of in the Lion City, such as Universal Studios, the Zoo, Gardens By The Bay, the Night Safari, stuff like that.

For starters, let’s talk about Eve’s tattoo tattoos.

Since she was 12, I’ve been (so not) subtly encouraging her to have one.  I have several, and her father has both arms covered with body art of all sorts.  She’s always told me that pigs would fly and socks would sing before that happened.  Well, not in those precise words but the message came out loud and clear.  Eve was not into tattoos.  So I left her alone and stopped trying to persuade her, say, 2, 3 years ago.  She was her own person and I had absolutely no right to bulldoze her into doing something I wanted.

Then a few months ago, she comes up to me and (ever so casually) confesses she’s been toying with the idea of getting one.

W E L L    T H E N

I only had two conditions and they were (1) I’d choose the tattoo parlour to be assured of the validity of their license, and the hygiene/cleanliness of both premises as well as equipment; and (2) that she conducted extensive research prior to deciding what to ink upon which part of her body, so she’d fully comprehend the pain level that would come with the process.

The last thing I wanted was for her to go into it blind.

Completely freak out, and not finish the exercise.

And be eternally traumatised by an incomplete tattoo.

So she did her thing and I did my thing, and for some reason it never happened. Not in Houston, anyway. Then as plans began forming for our trip to Singapore, things fell in place, and I knew where to take her.

You see, I had my very first ink done in 2000, at Johnny Two Thumbs which was, at the time, the only licensed tattoo parlour in Singapore.  It’d been recently glorified in a leading local women’s publication which made me feel confident that I would be in good hands.  No scary possibility of HIV infection (it was 17 years ago) or any sort of infection for that matter.  A year later, I went back for my second, and everything went smoothly then too.  It made sense was fitting, therefore, for Eve to have her first tattoo done where I’d done mine.


Apropos, yes?

And that’s what we did.  For her first tattoo.  A gorgeous rose.  On the side of her wrist.  Which was a brilliant spot, I thought, simultaneously wondering why I hadn’t thought of that myself.  A situation I quickly rectified, as evident from subsequent photos in this post (yes, boo, I admit it, I copied you). And if you were wondering whether Belle had anything to do with her choice of design, that’d be a most emphatic, “Of course!!!!“.  Belle (and, later, Emma Watson) and the woman she represents has long served as role model, first to me, and then 26 years later, to my daughter.  Fiercely independent, intelligent, witty, a bookworm with a heart of gold, and the courage of a lion even when completely terrified.

That’s also where we went for her second tattoo.

Because, later that night, after her first,  Eve confessed she wanted a second.

To all tattoo virgins out there, yes, it’s highly addictive.

Here comes a fighter.  That’s what Eve chose as her second tattoo.  An acknowledgement of how she battled debilitating depression and anxiety two years ago.  That phase of her life to which she refers as, “When shit happened“.  When the mere thought of going to school would cause intense (and by that I mean severe AF) cramps.  Fever.  Nausea.  And she would curl up in a corner, shivering, completely unable to move.  Paralysed.  She continues to fight this on a daily basis but she has learned to recognise the signs.  She knows what her triggers are.  She knows what to do before they’re triggered, and she fights them like hell.

That, in my mind, is true courage.  That, to me, is a warrior.

By the by, you can read Eve’s side of the story too.  Here.

(I confess it’s taken me over three months to complete this post)

(as in I started writing it on 27th June)

So, I’m quite certain my support of body art and tattooing (for Eve) is going to create backlash amongst those who feel I really ought to be a “stricter parent“.  Well, that’s a truckload of rubbish your prerogative, and I respect that, just as I expect you to respect my views on body art.

There are, in my mind, so many other things that appear on my list of no-no’s.  Such as drugs and drinks and smoking, rudeness and a racist/sexist manner,  and wearing shorts so tiny one’s butt cheeks are exposed.

So tell me, what would YOU be alright with, and what wouldn’t you?  For yourself.  For your child.  Please do join in the discussion and leave me a comment, because many most of my posts are inspired by what you say, how you feel, your thoughts.

Happy weekend ahead, all!!!

Love, Sheela

I link up here.

Sheela | Sheela Writes

What Glam Means To Me

Being all chichi.

And dressed up to the nines.


Can I tell you a secret?

I hate the dressing up formally.  I really do.

Whenever the dresscode reads as Black Tie or Formal, I go just a lighter shade of pale.  And inwardly, I cringe.  Oh alright, on the outside as well.  There’s something about the notion of being all dolled up that really bothers me.  I haven’t quite put a finger on it but I suspect it has to do with the stereotypical perception of Formal = the colour Black.

You all know how much I loathe predictability.

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

Silver Grey Velvet Duster  (Boohoo) | Lace Bra (Poshmark) | Gym Tank (worn inside out, Firedaughter Clothing @ Etsy) | Black Capris (Herban Devi @ Etsy) | Fishnets (Halloween Spirit Store) | Swarovski Embellished Booties (Bakers) | Spiked Clutch (Betsey Johnson, thrifted) | Sunnies (Poshmark) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics)


When I think Black Tie (or Formal), my mind immediately conjures up a room full of penguins and black blobs.  The latter being black blobs of dresses.  It just does.  And, of course, you could pose the argument that dressing up doesn’t necessarily need to be in the colour Black, and I would concur.  However, the point remains that 99.9% of the female population resorts to wearing black, in the form of a dress gown, 3/4 of the time, when the occasion calls for something formal.

I mean, why else would the abbreviation LBD ring an instant bell?

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

I’ve been guilty of that myself.

But I’ve also tried very hard to not wear black (here, here, here, and here) albeit I’m still wearing a dress in each of those posts.

So when it came to the tail-end of my capri collaboration (we’ve worn them athleisure style as well as ooh la la French Chic too) with Jodie and Eve, when the theme of Red Carpet Glam came up, I jumped at it.

Here was my chance to dress up, without wearing a dress.

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

Which then, naturally, led to a second conundrum.

How on earth does one make a pair of capris look worthy to strut the red carpet?

There’s a reason why capris are, in essence, regular pants cropped shorter aka for an informal silhouette.  Something less “stiff upper lip” and more “after work drinks“.  Isn’t that the epitome of all ironies?  That I’d find myself in in the position of needing to create a more glamorous feel to an item of clothing that was created specifically in the name of casual wear?

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

My first instinct was to go with sequins.  One of the first rules of after dark wear is, of course, bling be it in the form of jewellery or sequins.  And the second?  With thigh high boots.  Something with leather.  Eventually I ruled out both because I didn’t want to be predictable.

So, my friends, what you see before you is an outfit that came together approximately 15 minutes before my photographer Sofia came a-knocking on the door.  I think it looks rather pulled together (thankfully), don’t you?

And with that, dear ladies, this is how the five of us (Jodie and her ladies, Eve, and myself) set about creating our individual, unique interpretations of how to look all glammed up and spiffy whilst wearing capris.  What are your thoughts?

Eve, Teens (the world according to eve)

Eve | The World According To Eve

I love love this outfit.  The casual yet absolutely irrefutable glamour attached to wearing a ruffled red top, off one’s shoulders, is playful and chic, all at the one same time.  Would you believe that little red number is actually a one piece bathing suit?  Way to go, boo.

Sheela, 40s (sheela writes)

Throw in spikes.  Spicy red lipstick.  Supernova high heels.  Fishnets.  And a duster cardigan worth of Darth Vader.  Fait accompli.

Jodie, 50s (jodie’s touch of style)

Jodie | Jodie's Touch Of Style

So pretty and polished whilst remaining immensely down-to-reach and attainable.  I think I’ve finally found the perfect way to describe Jodie’s style.  Universally approachable with lovely nuances that keep her outfit fresh and now.

Nancy, 60s (jodie’s touch of style)

Nancy | Jodie's Touch Of Style

Never underestimate the power of a bared shoulder.  Or two.  Nor the undeniable appeal of black to channel mystique, sophistication, and, yes, glamour.

Charlotte, 70s (jodie’s touch of style)

Charlotte | Jodie's Touch Of Style

Here is a more pared down approach to red carpet glam that no less delightful and memorable.  That delicious sorbet-hued cardigan adds a perfect touch of lightness to Charlotte’s outfit.

So tell me, which of these would you wear?  Or, better yet, would YOU wear capris to an official affair?  Please do also join in the discussion and leave me a comment, because many most of my posts are inspired by what you say, how you feel, your thoughts.

Happy weekend, all!!!

Love, Sheela

p/s my photos are by Sofia Touassa

I link up here.




Oui, Mademoiselle

French Chic.

What does that even mean?


I’ll be the first to admit to not quite grasping the entire concept of, “French Chic“.  And since I’m on that confessional train, let me also admit to neither being a fan thereof nor even believing the vibe actually exists.

As you all well know, I subscribe to the maxim of more is more.  Always have.  And from what I’ve gleaned of how the French dress today, the look is (often) clean and spare.  Minimal fuss.  Pared down with the occasional statement clutch or heel.  Chignons (or, at the very least, sleek hair).  Delicate jewellery.  Lipsticks are either very nude or very bold red.  And the colour black.  A lot of black.

French style is all about the nuances.  Subtlety.  Details.

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

Embellished Leather Jacket  (Pinko, purchased in Italy) | Striped Top & Beret (Forever21) | Black Capris with Attached Miniskirt (Herban Devi @ Etsy) | Striped Heels (Shoe Ocean) | Red Cuff (Kate Spade, thrifted) | Sunnies (Poshmark) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics)


One might even say it veers towards that of the Italians.

Unapologetically flamboyant.  And opulent.  I make no attempts to be even remotely minimalistic in my approach to dressing.

I say it loud, and I say it proud.


Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

Which brings us to the matter post at hand.

What was I thinking?  French chic?  I knew I really didn’t have all that many options save to leverage upon that classic French Riviera combination of B&W Stripes with a touch of red.  I did, however, try to add some whimsy to certain elements, just to be a little unexpected.

For instance, the stripes aren’t just on my knit cropped top but reappear on my feet in those lovely (but horribly uncomfortable) heels.  Yes, they’re gorgeous to look at but I wish you could see some of the outtakes (I am SO not sharing those here, I look so comically silly).  How my face is all scrunched up as I winced with each step.  Damn you heels.  You’re going to end up costing me a Botox shot or three GRIN

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

As for the beret, I had every intention of pinning a shiny brooch onto it.  For added visual interest but, of course, completely forgot.  Which is to be expected given that this outfit was pulled together just minutes before my photographer arrived.  What can I say, I love living on the edge (says Sheela with the merest hint of flippancy).

Then there’s that jacket.  My friends, this is the ultimate jacket.  Each and every single embellishment you see from embroidered flower to beaded applique was applied by hand.  Yes, by hand.  Painstakingly and ever so arduously.  True, it cost me a pretty penny Euro but it was worth it.  Completely worth it.  The lambskin is buttery soft and cradles my body in a snug hug.  The colours are beyond striking.  And the craftsmanship nothing short of outstanding.  And, I agree, it is rather ironic to be wearing an Italian leather jacket for a French-inspired outfit.

C’est la vie, I say.

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

Now we come to the star of this show, my Black Knit Jersey Capris with the attached miniskirt.  Isn’t it the coolest?  It’s pants but with an interesting sartorial twist (which has a double bonus of flattening the belly).  A third disclosure:  I have this in an entire array of colours and prints.  I like them that much.

Pssst.  Does the rose tattoo on my wrist count as an accessory?  I mean, La Vie En Rose et al.

And on that note, my friends, here before you are five interpretations of French Chic utilising Capris featuring Jodie and her ladies, Eve, and myself.  On Monday, we showcased our capris a la Athleisure, and today, it’s all about French Chic.  But you knew that already.  Friday is when we really kick things up a notch with Red Carpet Glam (yes, it can be done with Capris!!).

But for now, how do you think we pulled off French Chic?

Eve, Teens (the world according to eve)

Eve | The World According To Eve

There is no doubt in my mind that Eve would look absolutely at home on the streets of Paris with this outfit.  From those pearl encrusted sunnies to that delightful scarf (Edelweiss, I believe) adorning her tresses to her simple statement of a tee shirt.  Bien fait, baby girl.

Sheela, 40s (sheela writes)

Sheela | Sheela Writes

Here’s me, doing French Chic in my trademark OTT fashion.  Stripes.  Black with White.  And a generous helping of fire engine red, topped off with a jaunty beret and oversized sunnies.

Jodie, 50s (jodie’s touch of style)

Jodie | Jodie's Touch Of Style

For today’s post, Jodie’s look is my absolute fave.  There’s such a charming Audrey Hepburn and the French Riviera vibe here.  Those ballet flats and denim capris just stole my heart.  They really did.  And I adore that she straightened her hair for this outfit, sleek and pared down.

Nancy, 60s (jodie’s touch of style)

Nancy | Jodie's Touch Of Style

Nancy looks like a welcoming breath of fresh air in this smoggy Houston weather (where are you, Fall?) in her crisp popover with oversized cuffs.  It’s interesting to note that she and I are wearing identical colours and yet our outfits couldn’t be more different.

Charlotte, 70s (jodie’s touch of style)

Charlotte | Jodie's Touch Of Style

Charlotte’s breton top is a simple but classic nod to French Chic and works wonderfully with her capris to create a timeless silhouette that works for practically any occasion.  We’re twinning again with the stripes!!!

Don’t forget to swing by again on Friday when we glam things up with Capris red carpet style.  I do hope you’ll also join in the discussion and leave me a comment too, because many most of my posts are inspired by what you say, how you feel, your thoughts.

Merci beaucoup, ma cherie!!!

Love, Sheela

p/s my photos are by Sofia Touassa

I link up here.




Sheela | Sheela Writes

Athleisure All Around

It’s been a while, I know.

Almost precisely two months, in fact.


Hello everyone!!  Sporadic would be an understatement to describe my presence here on the blog for the past three months.  Summer proved to be immensely challenging when it came to keeping up with posting.  At least, it was for me.  I know many of my peers demonstrate enviable organisational skills and foresight in the area of planning-ahead-when-vacation-comes but not I.  Clearly.

Firstly, we were in Singapore and Malaysia from 8th June all the way to 13th July.  Spending time with family and ex-family (is that even a valid concept?  When a couple divorces, does that mean they divorce the in-laws as well?  And do the in-laws become out-laws?).


Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

Knit & Leather Jacket  (purchased in Italy) | Sports Bra (Target) | Black & Olive Green Capris (Herban Devi @ Etsy) | Embroidered Suede Trainers (Nike) | Black Crossover Bag (Prada, thrifted) | Sunnies (Poshmark) | Lipstick (22 @ Kylie Cosmetics)

In Asia, socialising with the family of one’s ex isn’t quite the norm.  Not like how it is here in the States.  Things are usually awkward and stiff.  And given the notion that most marital break-ups do not end on a positive note, families tend to take sides.

Which was also the case with my ex’s family and mine.  Not that we openly declared war.  No, nothing of the sort, we merely ignored each other for the past 12 years (yes, that’s how long it’s been since I’ve been to Singapore).  Perhaps that’s worse.  And, admittedly, stupid given that it wasn’t a healthy manner to conduct ourselves for Eve’s sake.  So, yes, back to Singapore we went, spending time with my ex and his family, and I must say, I did enjoy myself.

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes


Of course there was some awkwardness still.

But we (all) got over ourselves.

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

Then we flew to Kuching (in Sarawak, where I’m from) to see my parents.  It was after that that things became blurry, like a whirlwind.

We returned to Houston on 13th July.  Precisely a week later, on the 20th, on the plane again were we, but this time, headed to Europe.  Specifically to Montauro, Italy by way of Rome.  To see my husband’s family.

It would’ve been a lovely vacation had my man not fallen ill the very day after we arrived and he had to be hospitalised for extreme dehydration (which caused his pressure to drop so low, he was bedridden for a bit hence the hospital).  Once that cleared, we managed to do a spot of touristy things (of which I’ll share in coming posts, along with recaps of our time in Asia).

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

Coming home from Italy, we completely missed our connecting flight in Atlanta (hey, thanks, TSA, for detaining me in the interrogation room) but were blessed to find exactly five seats on the last plane out to Houston.

We got back around midnight of 15th August.  Three days later, on the 18th, we drove to Dallas to take Eve to college (I’ve finally gotten accustomed to using the term “college” for university, sometimes).  Perhaps as a premonition of things to come, our senses should’ve been alerted when we were stopped en route for speeding.  Sigh.  Anyway, moving on.

On our very first night there, my husband and I managed to get into an accident.  We’re fine.  The right front wheel, not so much.  Being tired from all that jetlag and having driven four hours, we missed that concrete divider staring us straight in the eye, and flew over it.  A concrete divider with metal studs which completely broke the wheel, and tore a huge flap of rubber from the tyre.  The sound was so deafening that, for the first time in my life, I really did think we were going to be badly hurt.

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

Fortunately, we were badly shaken up and that was it.  The car, on the other hand, was  damaged.  It ended up with us extending our stay in Dallas (hurray for being able to see Eve longer) and driving very slowly back to Houston (it took us five hours to get home).  A drive which was extremely quiet and sombre.  And yes, I broke down and cried every few minutes.  Every little thing that reminded me of her just opened the floodgates.  I was (and still am) a mess.

We drove up to our house on 22nd August.  Drove our second son to College Station on the morning of the 23rd (he’s in his second year at A&M and was moving into an apartment).  And then we left on the 24th (back to Dallas) in anticipation of Hurricane Harvey, staying until the 31st when the highway back to our street was finally open.  In the aftermath of the devastation (we live in Memorial, right beside where the Buffalo Bayou tragedy occured), the blog was simply not a priority.

As you can imagine, I’m still feeling somewhat displaced.  In the past few months, my bed and I have not had much of an opportunity to rekindle our bond.  My regular routine?  Not really happening all that much.  Even now, as I write this, I’m back again in Dallas but for work this time (of course, being able to spend time with Eve is a boon).  On top of all that, I’m in mourning. Even as my heart is soaring to see how much Eve is enjoying herself in university, I miss her so much.  But I am truly happy that she is happy.  Making friends.  Relishing in this new chapter of her book.

Sheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela WritesSheela | Sheela Writes

So, as you can see read, much has transpired, my friends.

But I am very pleased to be able to finally dedicate time to the blog again.  And what better way to start anew then a tri-part project with Jodie and her ladies, Eve, and myself.  Regular readers will be no strangers to these beautiful, strong women, with whom I’ve had the pleasure and honour of collaborating with on numerous occasions.  For this particular collaboration, Eve and I came up with the capri challenge.  I love my capris.  I used to wear them 24/7/3665, regardless of how high temperatures soared.  Now that the word “shorts” has permeated my style vocabulary, I don’t don them quite that much but they remain firm faves.

For this joint venture, we (all five of us) are showing how versatile this nifty thing is.  And that capris need not be relegated (only) to those oh so familiar moments of “I just couldn’t be fussed“.  That they’re as easy to dress up as they are to dress cool.  Today, to kickstart things, we’re showcasing our interpretations of that street term “Athleisure“.

Tell me how you think we did.

Eve, Teens (the world according to eve)

Eve | The World According To Eve

This is my favouritest look for today.  Not because it’s Eve but because there are so many playful, unexpected elements in her outfit such as the blush pink velvet turban (Lil Edie, much), the shredded rips of that distressed top.  Those super duper cool skull studs on her booties.  But, most of all, that ever so flip message on her muscle tank.

Sheela, 40s (sheela writes)

A departure from my usual style but here’s a secret.  This is a look I’ve dreamt of wearing for ever so long.  It’s clearly athletically inspired with a strong street vibe.  I wanted to create an outfit that spoke volumes of “athlete off duty”, without looking as though I just completed my workout.  A look that could also take me to lunch.  Shopping.  Whatever I fancied.

Jodie, 50s (jodie’s touch of style)

Jodie | Jodie's Touch Of Style

My friend here wins the “ADORBS” award for pose as well as for those charming sandals with their flirty tassels.  No one in the world would’ve guessed that those are Jodie’s actual workout pants (I’m glad you ditched those WNTW rules, Jodie!!!). They’re the perfect foil for that lovely, OTT batwing top which reminds me so much of a Madame Butterfly ensemble.

Nancy, 60s (jodie’s touch of style)

Nancy | Jodie's Touch Of Style

I’m enjoying the fact that Nancy’s wearing a workout tee in her athleisure look here.  And that it looks utterly street cool with those denim capris (which are next on my must-buy list), not to mention floral espadrilles which look perfectly in tune with everything else.  It’s the little things, like the delicate jewellery, the confidence, and oh that smile.

Charlotte, 70s (jodie’s touch of style)

Charlotte | Jodie's Touch Of Style

Charlotte and I are style sisters today with the olive green palette and trainers.  Hers are quilted and ever so posh looking too.  Some flirty fringe.  Side cuff button trim.  A pretty scarf.  I’d say that her outfit is the most feminine interpretation of athleisure of us all.  It’s one of those things you could truly change the overall vibe with a simple change in accessories.

Come back and see us on Wednesday (we’ll be doing capris a la French chic, oui) as well as Friday (glamming things up with capri red carpet style).  I do hope you’ll also join in the discussion and leave me a comment too, because many most of my posts are inspired by what you say, how you feel, your thoughts.

Do you capri too?

Love, Sheela

p/s my photos are by Sofia Touassa

I link up here.