All posts filed under: ootd

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. 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) THE WORD “PREDICTABLE” OUGHT TO BE BANNED FROM THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE When I think Black Tie (or Formal), my mind immediately conjures up a …

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. 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) MY PERSONAL STYLE …

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?). CAN YOU TELL I’M A LITTLE OFF KILTER? 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 …

Explosive Moments

This will self destruct in 3 seconds. 3-2-1 BOOOOOOM!!!!!! (just kidding, ish)   We’ve all been guilty of one or ten self destructive acts in our lifetimes, haven’t we? I was just talking about it the other day, in one of my conversations with Eve about processing and accepting self love.  And decided I wanted to write a list of my Top 10 Acts of Self Destruction.  To see which ranked the highest.  How it happened.  What I could possibly have done differently. Here we go.  The single most self destructive thing I’ve ever done to myself was to believe in someone else’s opinion of me. I ALLOWED MYSELF TO PUT STOCK INTO SOMEONE ELSE’S PERCEPTION OF ME I gave someone else permission to rule, manage and control my life, and the way I wanted to live.  I handed over my free will to someone else, and basically told them it was alright to let their perspective, their story, their limitations impose upon who I am. Their vision took priority over mine. I offered up …

Old Habits

So, I’m in Singapore at the moment. The sunny island of Singapore.   This is where, a long time ago, I lived, worked, got married and had a baby.  It’s where I had Eve.  Shortly after she was born, my marriage with Eve’s father deteriorated and we divorced.  I then moved to the States, to begin a new life with my husband, Pierluigi, and his two boys. It’s been 12 years since I set foot here. I have a complicated relationship with this place.  It’s a mix of loathing and appreciation (more on this in a subsequent post, and how it’s gone a long way towards creating the woman that I am today). If you’ve read my rant on Instagram, you’d understand part of the hate.  Women such as myself who are independent, free-spirited, intelligent, and articulate (in other words, not quite the traditional Asian female) are disliked, distrusted, unaccepted.  And heaven help us should we earn more than our men. For the entire decade I was there, I was made fun of (for my …

A Different Perspective

Same story, same tale. Different approach, different results.   After last week’s incident (read: post) about an oh so blatantly discriminating act I was “blessed” to experience first hand, I made my way to the Emuleos show.  Now, a large part of my love for fashion stems from discovering new talent.  Or being introduced to an upcoming designer with a fresh perspective on silhouettes.  Not that my words wield the might that is Susie Bubble, hardly, but in that it fascinates me to no end when something someone authentically different lands on my lap, and my jaded eyes light up at the sight of originality (which, despite how often we recite the word “cyclical” in conversations pertaining to fashion, is very much sought after). Utility Jacket (option, option) | Unicorn Sweater (option, option) | Crop Flared Jeans (option, option, option) | Patchwork Boots (option, option) | Sunnies (option) | Lipstick (Rose)  FASHION MAY BE CYCLICAL BUT ORIGINALITY IS PERPETUALLY TRENDY I arrived at Gary’s Loft and took the lift upstairs without much in the way …

All Should Be Fair In Style & Fashion

But it ain’t so, baby girl. And that’s the sad truth about it.   Whenever I bring up Fashion Week, I’m typically met with blank stares (all of my family and 90% of my friends aren’t “in the industry”).  On occasion, these looks are replaced with comments along the lines of, “Oh wow, how exciting!!” or “Sounds so fun, can I come too?” or “You have the most glamorous life!!“.  Whatever their responses, it’s always the glossy parts that surface.  The bright, fun, glossy part.  Rarely, if ever, does the not so pleasant, not so pretty aspects see the light of day. That’s what my post is about today. And yes, this is what I wore to the first two shows of my very first day at NYFW 2017.  A tried and trusted bomber jacket from the defunct Dereon line, complete with faux fur collar.  A polka dot button down peeking out discreetly from a strapless, bustier dress concocted from vintage fabrics, and festooned with antique, estate finds.  Signature oversized sunnies.  All of which have …

An Eye Opener

Truth on the runways. (Even more) truth on the streets.   Ah, New York Fashion Week.  The special time that comes around only twice a year, where the finest and most extravagant (and sometimes the most ridiculous) creations are sent down the runway – all to the watchful eyes of critics, buyers, stylists and hoards of eager fashionistas. This season, however, it was less about the outlandish, and more about the political.  No, I stand corrected.  It was completely about making a statement. SARTORIALLY & POLITICALLY SPEAKING In as much as (some) of the designs that walked down the runway took my breath away, it was how designers and models and influencers stood united in sending a message about social and political justice (or perhaps a sad lack thereof) that really stood out for me. Because let’s face it, people. Fashion can be one mother of a catty world. Let’s not attempt to sugarcoat things, shall we?  Catty and bitchy and, more often than not, blatantly cruel and manipulative.  And it is precisely because of …

Third Wheel & A Link-Up

Odd (wo)man out. An extra person or element.   This entire week, my lady friends Jodie, Nancy, Charlotte, and baby girl Eve, have been showcasing our interpretations of combining red with gold, plus a little somethin’, somethin’.  For instance, on Monday, we kicked things off to a glam start with, well, a touch of opulence to our red with gold garments.  This was promptly followed up with introducing print to the pairing.  Yes, red with gold and a touch of pattern on Wednesday.  And today?  Well, this day, the fifth day of the week (can I get a YAY??), we’re showcasing red and gold with a certain odd fella.  You know.  The odd man (or woman) out.  That third wheel, otherwise also known as the third colour into the mix. THIS IS GOING TO BE A SUCCINCT POST IT’S BEEN VERY HECTIC IN NEW YORK Whilst I won’t be attending shows until Friday (wait, that’s today), since I arrived on Wednesday night, I’ve spent 3 hours with the Zotos team (working on a very special …

Love Thyself

Self care, self love. You seriously owe it to yourself.   Valentine’s Day happens next Tuesday.  A day for couples and singles alike.  For best friends.  Or just good friends.  A day to celebrate that crazy little thing called love and the act of loving.  Why is it then that we always forget one very vital thing? To love ourselves? Self care, self love. It’s a divine responsibility. It’s what you owe yourself, regardless of whether you’re a child of God.  Global citizen.  Wife of John.  Husband to Lily.  Mother of Samuel.  Brother to Kate.  You have a divine responsibility to take care of yourself.  I’d even go so far as to say that you’re honour bound to love yourself. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? Granted, those weekly massages or monthly manicure are wonderful treats but that’s not the sort of self-indulging I’m talking about here. It’s about knowing when to say “no“.  And not feeling guilty as sin for uttering that word.  Taking the time to recover, recharge, reboot.  Allowing yourself that moment to …