All posts filed under: the fab 40s

The Fab 40s In Their Cutoffs

Oh yes, we absolutely can. Wear shorts, that is.   I begin my post with a sense of utter outrage. In the process of conducting due diligence and research to write this, I came across multitudes of so-called style experts dishing out the most ridiculous of counsel to women on whether cutoffs (or the entire spectrum of shorts, for that matter) were age-appropriate. If it weren’t for the fact that I’d just taken my Bystolic (and that I’m physically drained from a very exhausting weekend of work + play, with the last vestiges of jet lag thrown in for good measure), I suspect I’d have suffered a fit right then and there.  Or, at the very least, hurled verbal abuses at said culprits vis-à-vis the sanctity of my home office which would, in truth, serve no higher purpose save to leave me with the cringey task of wiping smatterings of spit from my laptop screen. O U T R A G E D , I T E L L Y O U First of all, …

The Fab 40s Make A Statement

Creating an impression. One that hits home.   I doubt I’d be distorting facts when I put forth that we’ve all done something to send a message at least once in our lives, if not countless times. Making a statement could be as rudimentary as wearing black lipstick to rebel against the powers that be, or something far more significant, more meaningful such as taking a stand against Trump.  Joining the #MeToo movement.  Going public with your sexual orientation.  Articulating an opinion about a topic near and dear to you.  Participating in a rally. In one way or another, we all make statements.  And, naturally, the way we dress is perhaps the most eloquent, versatile and personal weapon in our arsenal to send a message.  Fashion has the innate ability to influence politics, culture, life, and that is not an exaggerated claim. F A S H I O N I S A W E A P O N We outfit ourselves to match our views and beliefs about anything and everything pertinent, be it consciously …

The Fab 40s & Their Fairy Tale Inspirations

Wonder. Awe. Magic. Stories of enchantment and spells.   As you all know, I love to write.  What you may not know is where that love stems from.  And that is the literary diet upon which I was raised.  It fed feeds my soul.  My mother introduced me to wordsmith Enid Blyton from the moment we could read.  And then further augmented the nourishment of my creative side with C S Lewis, Tolkien, Bronte, Eyre, Agatha Christie, you get the general idea.  Over the years, my library has expanded to include murder, crime and fantasy novels but I’ve never once deviated from my original love obsession with the beguiling and captivating world of fairy tales and wonderment and magic. O N C E U P O N A T I M E Those four words. Whenever I see them, read them, my heart does a little flutter. I slip away into my secret place, where castles go high into the sky. Where woods are dark and mysterious, and where the air is rife with enchantment …

The Fab 40s In Culottes

Culottes. Breeches. Gauchos. Jodhpurs. Whatchamacallits.   (I want to begin by extending a HUGE apology to my fellow fab 40 ladies, because this post is two days late, my blog was literally inaccessible since Sunday night because of technical issues, I couldn’t even get to the dashboard, and had to work with WordPress support via phone to resolve the problem, please forgive me ladies, please, this has NEVER happened before and I am so not a techie, it was really frustrating, but here we are, finally) Of late, I seem to be at a loss for words to say.  I’ve been staring at the screen since Thursday, and it’s already Sunday evening.  I’m not sure why that is.  I have the thoughts running through my mind but somewhere along the way, it would appear, they’re all jumbled up.  Like internet connectivity on a bad weather day, you know?  I don’t understand it though.  I don’t think I’ve ever been speechless. Or is it wordless, when it comes to writing? D O Y O U K …

The Fab 40s In Colours

A spectrum of refraction. An optical illusion of the best sort.   I’ll admit, I was stumped when I started writing this post.  What could I possibly talk about colours?  Save for the fact that they’re many and varied and evoke emotions in all?  And without sounding neither corny nor cliched?  I mean, there’s only that much one can wax lyrical over shade, hue, tone and tint. C H A L L E N G E D, I W A S But over the weekend, I attended my very first wedding on American soil (albeit it was a coming together of a Lebanese+Honduran female with an Italian+ Colombian male) and in the midst of oohing and aahing and gushing over how romantic and delicately passionate the chosen theme of creams, blushes and mint was, I thought perhaps I could share which colours triggered which emotions in me. Thus was the idea born. First up is the colour black.  It is of particular importance because of how it, simultaneously, symbolises confidence as well as a lack …

(How) The Fab 40 Ladies Stay Warm & Stylish

My New York moment. Immortalised and multiplied.   Isn’t it amazing how far one can come, and without even realising it? For those who are new to Sheela’s world, when I first began writing on this blog, my images were taken by my daughter, Eve, with my iPhone, and lord knows she did her level best but they were very different from the glossy numbers which currently dot the cyber pages of Sheela Writes.  Glossy, colourful photos of yours truly strutting and pouting (and occasionally also guffawing her head off), walking to the beat of my own drum on the streets of New York City. A far cry indeed, from those hasty shots snapped in between her finishing up homework and my preparing dinner, in (the comfort and safety of) my (oh so private) backyard.  My poor baby, a tough time I did give her. I L O V E Y O U, B O O ! ! ! So imagine how tickled pink I am, to present to you today, our second installment of …

The Fab 40s In Velvet

Smooth as butter. Plush as a king’s ransom.   Hurray, the Fab 40s are reunited. A N D I T F E E L S S O G O O D Remember when I talked about taking time out from collaborations and projects because they, well, draining and taking me away from my real love?  That is to write whatever my heart desires and not based on what a preset schedule dictated?  That was last May and since then, whilst I appreciate the freedom to express myself in whichever directi0n my soul felt so inclined, I’ve also come to appreciate (and miss) the structure of a pre-determined timeline.  I’ve felt somewhat utterly lost like a ship sans its rudder.  There was nothing to nudge kick my ass into gear and put my thoughts onto posts. But above all. I’ve missed Jennie and Annie and Mary.  And Veronica (get well soon, babe).  Also Diane and Sam even if they are no longer part of this collaboration, they’re still my friends in their 40s who remain oh …

Recharge, Reboot, Reset

A fresh start.   This will be a short one, my friends.  Yes, it does seem rather inadequate given that I’ve been silent and missing for a month.  But change is a-foot.  In my heart.  Within the family.  On the blog.  And that change has not only opened my eyes to an expanded level of awareness, it has also aided me in concluding how I am meant to continue on this writing journey. WE ALL NEED A RESET BUTTON Which is not a bad thing. Starting from scratch can be good. I’m certain many would concur that we all need to use that reset button now and again.  When time seems to pass ever. so. very. slowly.  When everything seems tried and tested, done and done.  When one begins to turn a deaf ear to the crisp rustle of turning pages.  And when the sight of lightning streaking across the sky no longer brings about a sigh of contentment and pleasure.  Well, those are my personal indicators, yours may very well be much different but …

An Unsteady Flicker

Staying inspired. Keeping the flame burning.   I was at mass last Sunday morning, for Easter (the sheer fact it’s taken me over a week to churn out this story should hint at what I’m going to be sharing today), and I somewhat tuned out when the priest began his homily.  I do that sometimes a lot.  Not a very Catholic act but certainly very human.  As he was speaking, I asked myself how someone like Father Troy could remain so passionate and enthusiastic about being a priest.  About his faith.  About saying mass. I mean, at the end of the day, priesthood is still a job.  And with any and every profession, we all fall into a slump every now and again.  Into mental fatigue.  We get jaded and disinterested.  And that fire under our asses goes out. And then all of a sudden, his words pierced through my reverie, “You fall in love with Christ all over again each and every single day.  That’s how you keep things exciting.  And interesting.” NO, THIS …

The Fab 40s Are Princesses For A Day

Of fairytales and princes. Of happily ever afters (or not).   I remember my very first cinematic encounter with an official Disney princess.  Her name was Snow White and the year was 1980.  Throughout the music (who could forget that high pitched voice) and all that animation, one thing stuck in my head.  That I was certainly not going to lay around like a helpless damsel in distress, waiting for my prince to come and set me free.  That I’d rather don my own suit of armour, and rescue myself. I CAN SLAY MY OWN DRAGONS, YO As you’d probably surmise, I have no love for Snow White.  In face, her shrill vocal chords set me on edge and I’m instantly overcome by an animalistic urge to pummel.  Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty too are on my hit list of never-evers. God help me should the day come that I can no longer fight my own battles. Shudder.  Just shoot me and put me out of my misery when that moment arrives. Then came Ariel in …