My 2016 journey. The good and the bad

The Journey

I was moaning to the husband recently about my lack of progress in my professional life when he stopped me. He reminded me that I started out in October 2015 with 5,000 followers on Instagram. By January 2016, my numbers were over 10K. Exactly a year later, it stands at 44,900. I was so focussed on nitpicking my faults and lack-ofs that I forgot to see the big picture.

The growth happened organically, albeit with a few strategies put in place by me to improve my entire feed. I learned as much as I could about Instagram. Literally whatever I can get my hands on including putting myself out there to network. The latter wasn't as easy as I'm not exactly the most sociable person. It also grew by leaps and bounds, thanks to a lovely lady called Siobhan who founded the famous Instagram account called Pretty City London and featured my work on many occasions (Thank you, Siobhan. I'm eternally grateful!). It was mind-boggling to think a couple of my images drew more than 10,000 likes each.

I started collaborating with Hero to run Smartphone Photography workshops. A huge thank you to all who'd participated. More feedback were relayed to me so we decided that the final workshop was to cater specifically to businesses who wanted to incorporate Instagram efficiently as a marketing tool. I was blown away by the enthusiasm of all the participants who were so keen to learn that they happily stayed back for an additional 45 minutes.

Some clients wanted one on one customized sessions so one thing led to another, I started a small consulting business. Again, it wasn't something I'd set out to do beginning of the year. I took on more photography projects working with some of the most inspirational women (check out Online Stylist and Lois Avery) and brands that I personally like.

I'm still a long way from achieving my goals but I've learned that it's the journey, not the destination that matters. I remember hearing a talk by Natalie Massenet, founder of Net-a-Porter who drew a graph of her path to success. It was nothing like what everyone has imagined, a slow but definite upward trend. It was a scribbled mess with no definitive pattern. Yet, if you looked from afar at its 10 year performance, you'll see how many milestones it has reached.










Harsh words and dealing with difficult people


In the past year and a half, I've heard my share of harsh words, from raging obscenities, torrents of abuse to outright disbelief that I'd amount to anything. It's even more difficult when they're from a family member and close friends because you take their rants to heart.

What upset me was their sense of entitlement. Their "I'm more important than you"mentality.  They take no responsibility over their verbal diarrhea. The fact that others have had to deal with the emotional scars from their many tactless tirades. That it's ok to throw tantrums when things don't go their way and screw anyone who happened to stand in their path. Because they're ALWAYS the victim. The words thank you and I'm sorry aren't even part of their vocabulary.

The very act of tearing another person down is often a sign of deeply rooted insecurities hidden behind a veil of arrogance.

The thing is I hate confrontations and I deal with them very badly. My first reaction tends to be flight rather than fight. I go mute and then tears start to form. And then I hide in my she-cave for weeks to recover. It's taken me this long to finally grow a thicker skin, to stand my ground calmly and apply a little wisdom. I had to make the tough decision to not let the toxic relationship continue. That's a difficult thing to do if you're a people pleaser, which basically means you're everyone's dogsbody.

It's normal to disagree. After all, we're all made differently. There are ways to compromise and work together without belittling the other.


"A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. The tongue of the wise commends knowledge, but the mouth of the fool gushes folly."  - Proverbs 14:15.











Health Issues


I've been blighted with a number of severe IBS episodes (Irritable Bowel Syndrome). It's been a year of adjusting and readjusting my diet, sometimes on a daily basis. I've re-introduced some food types back into my diet carefully with some success. However, a few slices of dried mango brought me to my knees followed by a 12 hour non-stop of pain, vomiting and being close to passing out cold on the floor. It took another week of bland congee diet (and barely anything else) before the low level pain was just about tolerable.

I am thankful that it's IBS, not cancer. I've had a friend who succumbed to cancer unexpectedly and another who has just been diagnosed a couple of weeks ago. My health issues, in comparison, are minuscule and controllable with careful dieting. In fact, thanks to IBS, I'm even more careful with what I put into my mouth and my diet has improved tremendously as a result.



What did your 2016 journey look like?




**All photos taken with iPhone 6S Plus

6 life lessons

How much to share 

Over-sharing? Bland post? Or somewhere in the middle? If you've been blogging for years now, there comes a point where you're at a loss trying to translate thoughts into coherent sentences. I've been on all levels of the pendulum. The noise generated by social media is deafening. I'm often left bewildered trying to figure out how to filter out the infinite amount of information just to get to what I truly wanted to read.

Sharing your honest thoughts, struggles and the lessons we've learned build a kind of solidarity amongst fellow readers and bloggers. It makes us more relatable and helps to empower those around us too. On the other end of the spectrum, you've got the in-your-face bragger  (usually the same ones that love to share their ultra fabulous home, perfect husband, perfect holiday, kids that are smarter than Einstein) which you frequently see on Facebook that most of us unfollow. Everyone wants to celebrate each other's successes but NOT when it becomes like a boastful verbal diarrhea.







What to say 

Someone once told me that "I NEED to say it because that's how I feel and she's wrong." WRONG. The truth can hurt but harsh words - spoken or written can obliterate a relationship and the hurt can carry into eternity. It's ok to be opinionated but it's far better to use a bit of wisdom to ascertain when and how to voice it in a manner that does not offend the other person. I never quite understand trolls or those who get into spats on social media or in real life. It's petty, childish and ultimately, reflects badly on the attacker.

It's ok to disagree since we're all individuals. Otherwise, we might as well be robots. Why is it necessary to bend someone to our way of thinking? It's amazing what we'll say, all in the name of pride. We're more likely to build fulfilling lifelong friendships if we're more considerate towards one another. Sometimes adults behave far worse than kids. I've always believed that wisdom does not come with age but to those who seek it.

It's so much easier to point out another's flaw than our own. I'm just guilty as charged. Sometimes we over-analyze what the other person had said and take it out of context. A few kind words one on one can clarify the misunderstanding quickly rather than blabbing it on social media and turning it into an unnecessary warfare. I used to react and lash out when I was attacked. Having to learn to curb my tongue and behave the opposite of what I truly want to do is.........very very difficult. Self control is a sign of maturity. Easier said than done by the way but I'm getting there  s l o w l y. If the words thank you and I'm sorry were used more often, they'd be far less wars.










Self talk 

A close friend of mine and I started a mini bible study group recently. Just the two of us. One of our exercises was to list out our strengths. You'd think it'd be an easy task but I truly struggled. I've read all about self talk, regurgitate it often enough.....but to put it into practice? Difficult. I continue to draw my inner strength and wisdom from God that I may learn to be kinder to myself. To believe in Him rather than listening to naysayers.









To succeed at all costs

Asian or Jewish parents (or parents who are immigrants) have extremely high expectations of the next generation who are programmed from young to excel or else. Their life was excruciatingly difficult in the days where poverty was rife. Compliments are rare because the Asian culture is seeped in Confucianism which means one has to be "modest". I use this term lightly because most Asian parents love to compare and nothing makes you feel more worthless than being compared to someone else.

Unless you've succeeded like Bill Gates or Jerry Yang (Yahoo) or show material wealth, well....you're still rather lacking. Filial piety is observed without question so children are often pushed to set aside their dreams to fulfill their parents'. Life is dreary with no end in sight if you don't enjoy what you're doing.

Suicide rate in South Korea is the highest amongst the OECD countries. The pressure these kids are under is immense to the point where schools had to lock up access to the rooftop during exams. It isn't uncommon for a student to suddenly leave the classroom, walk up to the highest point and jump. While this is rather extreme, those of us who were educated in Asia would understand the pressure of performing well as anything less than an A is unacceptable.

Those in my generation are trying to buck the trend by finding our own successes whether they're big or small. I hope my daughter will have a different life where she's encouraged to find her own destiny. Money does bring happiness to a certain extent but not at the expense of everything else. I'd rather leave behind a legacy of relationships than material wealth that I can't take with me.








Being beautiful and popular 

The obsession with being popular is an epidemic these days, largely thanks to social media. It was definitely around when I was in school but your home was a sanctuary from peer pressure. These days, kids and yes, us adults too are constantly reminded how popular we are all day by the stats on our social media which is flashed on your screen every waking hour. In the world of blogging where statistics take precedence, it's interesting to see how there are those who are unwilling to know you because you're....well....not popular enough. It's glaringly obvious when you're at a fashion event and the organizers fawn all over the more popular blogger or social media superstar while you're left standing in a corner wondering why you'd even bothered to attend (after arranging childcare, dashing to the train station and running like the hounds are chasing you to make it there on time).

Popularity has a correlation with looks so it's little wonder that online beauty tutorials have sprung up like mushrooms. People are naturally drawn to beauty but how you make them feel will leave a lasting impression. Perhaps I'm older now and have been through similar situations several times around, I'm a little less bothered, though at times niggling self doubt does rear its ugly head. I've had long conversations with close friends who used to be the most popular kids in school. Being popular isn't what it's cracked up to be. Worshipping people is never a good thing as none of us are perfect and will inevitably fall short of expectations. Beauty and popularity wane over time and what are we left with?







Being self conscious 

Most of us are naturally self conscious. We worry about how others perceive us. It has taken me decades to come to the realization that it's a waste of brain juice and all it does is add more unwanted wrinkles. Why? Because people are more concerned about how they appear to others that they don't have time to worry about you. So what if your fly is undone or your hair isn't cooperating? No one died. Laugh about it and the world will laugh with you, not at you. It'll break the ice at a gathering and perhaps you'll make a friend or two. Be interested rather than interesting. People love to talk about themselves.

I was always this awkward kid who'd fumble through conversations trying to look cool yet had the opposite effect. I'm still not the best at parties and tend to avoid crowded events as much as I can.  I've since learned that they're many more just like me. I'll never be an extrovert but time and experience have helped me to discern those who're kinder and more empathetic from the pack. They're usually the ones that wear a few battle scars, overcame certain hardships and have interesting stories to tell.  It sounds rather corny but the saying....eyes are windows to one's soul is true.

If you've enjoyed this post, do check out Amanda of Online Stylist's 5 Unwritten Rules of Blogging and Lucy of Fashion Me Now's Lessons in Happy. Please share life lessons you've learned so far that have had an impact on you.

Counting my blessings

Lately, I've been getting a lot of love from various individuals. They came rather unexpectedly and took me by surprise. I dithered....hummed and hawed for ages trying to find the right words to express my heartfelt gratitude but felt somewhat inadequate to properly thank thank all these lovely ladies.

The thing was I've been in a funk and feeling somewhat despondent for the past few months. I'd let harsh words from a few individuals to affect me. They took root and festered within me which was a pointless exercise. It seemed rather silly when I think about it now. I concentrated needlessly on the negatives when I have many blessings to be grateful for. A prayer and a nice kick in the arse were all it took to knock some sense into myself again.

A friend, Hong Yi whom I've never ever met face to face though we've Skyped (yes, we have an interesting but wonderful friendship) contacted me out of the blue to say that she was thinking of me. She sent me a link to a TedTalk video with a message I needed to hear. A former classmate of mine, Sheela found me on the internet two years ago.  We discarded our childhood angst and rebuilt a friendship, one that we never had before. Forgiveness is a wondrous thing. Sheela interviewed me recently for her blog but I was touched by her heartwarming post (read the interview here).

My Instagram account is far from popular nor do I have tens of thousands of followers. I guess you could say I did a few celebratory dance around my coffee table and whoops loud enough to wake up the living dead when it was featured in a few publications and recognized by some of my favorite Instagrammers. I was on the list of Brit + Co's 20 Amazing Female Travelers to Follow on Instagram.  Kelly, a fellow Kiwi who resides in the U.K and writes the popular travel blog, Around the world in 80 pairs of shoes had me down on her 10 of the Best Travel Instagram Accounts to follow in 2015. Next was Localgrapher's Top 10 Inspiring Female Travel Instagrammers to Follow. This was soon followed by Huffington Post via Oyster Hotels' 7 Unknown Instagram Accounts You Need to Follow.   Polina of Polabur who has an Instagram feed to die for recently included me on her Favorite Instagrams from London. I couldn't thank them enough for the recognition.

My friends and family can tell you that I'm not very sentimental. Hell, my own kid often reminds me to show more enthusiasm when she announces good news. BUT....this one from Sue of Susie So So teared me up. I must've read her post a dozen times while trying to hold back my tears. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Jacket project was emotionally grueling. It took me more than half a year to recover. Dealing with sensitive and controversial subject matters is never easy. I've asked myself a million times over the past year whether it'd helped anyone, if it was a worthwhile project. It wasn't just my story but six others who trusted me to shared their deepest secrets in the hope that they'd help those who are dealing with similar issues. Sue, thank you for choosing me as your "Someone Inspirational."

The social greeting conundrum

via Pinterest

After 6 years of living in the U.K, the art of cheek kissing still has me stumped. A hug? 1 kiss? 2 kisses? Oh wait....there's cheek kissing where your cheek only ever grazes the other person's. What happens when there's actually a lip and cheek contact? Is that too much?

There was the embarrassing moment in the Netherlands when I was pulling back after the second kiss and the other person was waiting for the third. Uneasy laughter all around. Lesson learned. In Amsterdam, do the left cheek, right cheek and do not forget the final bit - left cheek.

Recently, I had another awkward moment at a party as I reached forward to cheek kiss and the other person nervously patted my shoulder. Oh wait.... the rules have changed again. The other guests have had a few drinks and thought it was the funniest sight ever. This was probably one of few occasions when I'd welcome a sinkhole under my feet.

What about in more professional settings where one wouldn't think of doing any form of kissing?There was that other time when I happened to sit across an illustrious person within the fashion industry. I reached over to shake his hand and he asked for a ...............  fist bump. Whaaaaaaat?! Yes, you've heard right. I looked around rather uneasily to see if anyone was looking and slowly raised my fist towards his. My first ever fist bump at the age of 40 to someone who is two decades older than I. Is this how fashionable people communicate these days?

Previously, there's the one cheek kiss rule in England but these days, some folks expect a second. When I'm with my French friends, that's pretty easy to figure it out.... 2 cheek kisses. With my English friends....it's a bit of a guessing game at times. Some prefer a hug. Others reach out for a kiss. And the odd one prefers two kisses. As for my American friends, a hug is sufficient as a social greeting. 

Cheek kissing is something very new to me. We, folks over in Australasia aren't all that fussed about social kissing. You may expect a hongi if you find yourself at a traditional Maori ceremony but in general, we're pretty direct. We hug or shake hands. Full stop. But then again, we're pretty direct folks which may scare newcomers because we're not all that great at mincing our words. 

Let's talk about it from a cultural perspective. Actually, mine. I'm one of those global citizens from Asia residing in Europe with one foot sitting firmly in the eastern tradition and the other, western. The older Chinese folks will keel over if I cheek kiss them. There's no touching the younger ones too unless you know them really well. A hug if you're close or perhaps linking your arm with a friend of the same sex as you're walking but that's as far as we'll go. A handshake with a nod or a very VERY slight bow is fine if I'm formally introduced to someone older from China. 

Asians are more concerned about honorifics. We spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out how to call each other. It's the kind of social rules that stump most from the western world. Calling someone older than you by name is akin to a social catastrophe.  There's a title for EVERYONE. Say, your mom's younger female first cousin's older male cousin (got it?). Or your dad's fourth brother's wife's younger brother (you still with me?).  Ahh..... Confucianism........so complicated.

There's that time when I was introduced to my sister in law's Korean family where I had a quick lesson in bowing. Let's just say amongst Asian folks, there's little touching involved unless you know each other very well. And absolutely NO kissing of any sort to anyone who's not your other half or you might get decked. Male to male - hell, no! Male to female - only if you want her spouse or boyfriend to physically take you apart. In any case, no cheek kissing. You get my drift.

What's your take on social greeting etiquette?

The thing about online shopping

Lately, my doorbell seems to chime like the church bells which go off without fail every hour. It's a succession of deliveries, a nod to the overzealous online shopping mode that I'm in right now.  In fact, I know most of the courier drivers from various companies by sight. Even the grumpiest fella has gotten to know me well enough to crack a few jokes. Ahh....success, at last. We've finally settled into a comfortable relationship where he wouldn't chew my head off for not being at home to sign for the package.

Despite its imbecilic bureaucratic bullshit that most of us have to endure, the U.K is an online shopping haven. I don't have to reiterate how much I hate malls, ESPECIALLY outlet malls. It's like being imprisoned in a building without a stitch of natural sunlight, three counties away so you can't escape easily (ingenious marketing ploy).

Working from home has its pros and cons. Let's start with the negative. My butt has taken root (literally) after being perched on the same chair for hours on end. The pros? I can wear anything I fancy and I don't have to leave my home when I need to get some shopping done. Two weeks ago, I went into the newly opened and lavishly furnished J.Crew on Sloane Street. A chirpy sales assistant greeted me at the door and asked if I needed help.

Me: "Sure. I'm looking for a particular sweatshirt."
Her: "Which one?"
A spiel about its likeness ensued.
Her: "No idea....." Looking perplexed. "We've got sooooo many sweatshirts!"
Me: "In that case, point me in the right direction"
Her: "They're everywhere......!! You just have to find them"

So off I went.....on a treasure hunt. All the customers were left to our own devices while the sales staff gossiped. Cost of this exercise? 30 minutes that I'll never get back. I went home and logged onto to their website. I went through the entire new autumn/winter collection, picked out what I wanted, checked out and paid in under 10 minutes. No smirking, sneering, chirpy and useless sales staff to deal with.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a 100% advocate for online shopping. I still like to touch the fabric, try on the clothes, explore the merchandise, chat with competent sales staff.......when I have the time to do so. When online shopping has been set up to run like clockwork - let's take Zara and Uniqlo (they're both ridiculously efficient) as great examples, spending an hour trying to locate a specific garment and queueing up to get into the fitting room or pay seems like a waste of time. Not to mention having to catch public transportation just to get there and back. Since I have such a low pain threshold for shopping, I often ended up shelling out more money "resting" at cafés in between spurts of activity.

I don't always get it right. This time around, I've had to return nearly 80% of my purchases. Thankfully, I've got the post office literally in my backyard so dropping the packages off isn't a problem. I've calculated I've spent far less time clicking on websites than trudging from one store to the next and all that jazz associated with buying clothes.

Despite being a self proclaimed foodie, let me tell you.....online grocery shopping is THE best invention EVER. I remember the days of wasting an entire Saturday just flitting from store to store when I was living in Auckland (New Zealand). Now? My fingers do a 10 minute exercise on the keyboard and I'm done for the week. No more heavy lifting (other than the occasional top ups) or buying tons of unnecessary (but very tasty) junk food on "special".

Sure, I've experienced a few duds but the pros outweigh the cons for now. What about you?

Shhh.....it's a secret!

I've been told MANY secrets in my lifetime (I'm sure most of you have as well). Some were troubling, others were funny, many just needed someone to confide in. There's a caveat that one must know about me. I wasn't joking when I said that my brain resembled a sieve. It still does, only the holes have gotten bigger over time. Once the words "shhh....it's a secret" are uttered, my processor (aka brain) takes that as an instruction that the data isn't relevant on the hard drive and automatically discards it within a week.

To my dear friends who were dismayed when all efforts failed to dredge up deleted memory......I'm sorry. But at least your secret's safe............. My friend, Red Hong Yi suggests I take a look at this ingenious website called Post Secrets where people posts secrets anonymously. It went viral and to date, Frank Warren has received half a million of secrets.

It's the middle of the week and the weekend seems miles away so let's do something fun for a change. How about posting a humorous secret here anonymously (don't show your name or ID)? I'll do the same!

Evolving Style

Outfit: Rick Owens leather jacket, Helmut Lang t-shirt, The Kooples track pants (similar and on sale), New Balance 420 sneakers and Miu Miu sunglasses (much cheaper here if you don't mind eBay).


Recently, I had to tag nearly 1000 posts (!!) in order to make a few upgrades to the layout. It was a mind numbing exercise and required many packets of calorie laden cheezels (Ocado, my lifesaver, my BFF because you've FINALLY started stocking my favorite Antipodean snack) to keep sane. I have no idea how to categorize my blog as I flitter from topic to topic without any semblance of order. It's hard to believe that it's been 4 years since I started this blog. Who knew I can ramble on for this long?

It's also interesting to see how my personal style has evolved from the time I arrived in the U.K till now. It used to be a mish-mash of anything that took my fancy, edging towards a more feminine  and classic aesthetic. Since the weather in Auckland was more in line with the U.S west coast, that was where I drew most of my inspiration from.

Nowadays, I've adapted myself to the European fashion, namely French because their fit suit my petite frame and I don't have to fork out extra for alterations. It's also cheaper and more convenient to purchase European brands rather than having to pay exorbitant duty for overseas purchases and a pain to return if something didn't fit. I've chucked away most of my heels because I'm on my feet rather than in a car and yes, the weather's poles apart so leather jackets and coats rule my closet.

I've swapped my Juicy Couture track pants (yes.....no kidding but I drew the line on having the word Juicy stamped across my arse) for The Kooples and Petit Bateau more tapered styles. I've downsized my closet drastically. I stuck to black and grey with a smattering of burgundy and blues so that I can mix and match in 3 minutes flat.

I'm older and made enough mistakes to differentiate between clothes that I would wear repeatedly and ones that look awesome for an imaginary occasion. I'm definitely more comfortable in my skin. My love affair for jackets and coats continues to this day but I pay more attention to details, workmanship and that extra oomph that makes a piece stand out. I prefer a classic jacket with a contemporary and edgier twist. I want a statement garment that looks timeless too. An oxymoron but not entirely impossible.

I don't particularly enjoy shopping for clothes. I'd rather eat than shop which is why I adore online shopping despite its pitfalls because I can shop AND eat while my fingers do the work. I have no idea what to call my style these days. I guess the words - practical, sporty, tomboy and comfortable should fit the description rather well.

Has your style evolved over the years?

My week

Currently........
Things have been a little quiet on the blog front. I've been popping back and forth between here and London like a proverbial jack-in-the-box. I have full admiration for my husband and his fellow commuters who do this exhausting trek twice a day.  For the privilege of being crammed inside a carriage (standing room only) like sardines every single day, one has to fork out £6K or more a year. Transportation is a killer on the budget here in the U.K.


Home office......
A bunch of tulips, floral scented reed diffuser and a candle on the corner of my home office (aka dining table)......make great eye candies while I sip coffee and try to do some work. Mwahahahaha (falling over laughing)....... just goes to show that a photo does NOT portray the reality. After 6 months of trying to find a pen amidst layers of paperwork, junk, receipts, piles of "important" documents, laptop, iPad, phone and whatnots, I finally cleared the table *ahem* home office. So if anyone ever show you photos of their picture perfect homes, ask to see the "before" photos.


Evolution of personal style.......
My style has gone through an evolution over the past year or so. I may still shop with a list in one hand but I now prefer to invest in unique pieces with interesting details. Fit, fabric, comfort and versatility are of utmost importance, though without sacrificing the design. The further I move into my 40s, the fussier I become.

In fact, the more press days or presentations I attend, the more critical I am. I asked a friend yesterday if there was something wrong with me. Frances being her diplomatic self argued that it was because I have a clear vision of what I want. Perhaps I'm beginning to get more comfortable in my skin. Jelly belly, bat wings....be damned. They're battle scars from motherhood and aging.


Gripe about footwear.........
Have you noticed how much ££££ we spend on designer shoes yet we're traipse about in our sneakers and flats most of the time? Recently, I asked the buying team at a multi-brand store why they rarely, if ever, stock affordable mid heels? There was a deadening silence...... I looked around and guess what? Every attendee was in flats or mid heels because we had to sprint/walk/take public transportation to get there. I mean....just take a look at the street styles of London or Paris or any city for that matter.......

There's a whole science behind wearing high heels - how to walk in them, when and how to swap from flats to heels before arriving at an event, how to make heels more comfortable, which heels are comfortable..... It's an elusive art form desired by many but achieved by few (the lucky ones with an incredible high arch).


Strange & stranger
Recently, I attended one of the strangest, if not THE strangest presentations I've ever been to. All of us had to shuffle our schedules, move heaven and earth to organize childcare, pay a small fortune and travel a rather long way to get there only to see A4 sized paper being passed around and not even a single cup of coffee being offered. The entire purpose of the meeting was a little lost on me. Right now, we're all reeling from the shock of it all.....

So, how was your week?

Women and our self image

Top to bottom: Michelle, Fiona, Joanna, Avril, Natalie, Sue, Helen, Kat, Frances and Donna


10 women. Beautiful in many different ways. Uncountable unique attributes. Mother. Influencer. Wife. Daughter. Sister. The message I'm trying to get across is that they're Real Women. These photos were taken using available natural light. Other than the removal of a teeny tiny zit and saturation/exposure adjustments, NO extraordinary photoshop magic was applied. None of these women spent hours being primped within an inch of their life before the photo shoot (but they all had plenty to drink beforehand.....).

The blogosphere and in fact, every media platform is rife with unrealistic portrayals of THE perfect woman. You look at the photos and you think, darn it, I feel crap about myself. In reality, we can all look like that if we have a hair and make up team, personal trainer, dietician and incredible Photoshop mastery.  Being in your 20s help especially when the body hasn't been stretched, snapped back, stretched.... during every pregnancy.

Here's what I've learned at this impromptu photo shoot:

1. Every woman looks at her photo and zooms in on her "flaws" (I have stumpy legs, I hate my face, I'm fat, I hate my teeth). Yet when I show the same photo to the others, the response was quite the opposite. They look at the overall photo and notice the positives (I wish I have her legs, did you see her startling blue eyes, gosh...would you look at the luminous skin, I wish I have her figure). Moral of the story? You're your worst critic and find flaws that others overlook.

2. The perfect woman doesn't exist. Keeping up with false pretenses is tiring. No one is infallible unless you're God.

3. No one on their deathbed ever said "I wish I had looked more beautiful." If anything, people remember how you'd made them feel.

4. We spend too much time worrying about our inadequacies when others spare us nary a thought. They're too busy worrying about theirs.

5. Your flaws are what make you relatable. And compassionate. And kind.

6. No one can walk in heels through cobbled lanes without looking like a drunkard navigating through a minefield. Myself included.

7. When you put yourself down the way you do, imagine your child doing the same. How heartbreaking is that to hear? They mimic their hero. That's you.


Now, tell me 3 things you like about yourself. I'll start with mine - lack of wrinkles (thanks, mom, grandma, great grandmother, great great grandmother!), my hair (losing it helps me appreciate it more) and language skills (I can mimic most accents well). What are yours?

p.s. don't forget you still have 5 days to enter the Monica Vinader giveaway. You don't need to pop your email address if you don't want to but remember to check back after the 9th of March.

What are the ramifications of fast fashion?

source

I liken fast fashion to fast food. It’s instant gratification, cheap, plentiful and tastes great but makes you feel sick afterwards. There are ramifications to your health later in life if you’ve consumed too much of it. The same applies to fast fashion. While the repercussions aren’t health related, they’re no less important. It’s easy to get sucked into it when you’re looking at a sweater that cost no more than £17 or £10 for a pair of jeans. You rationalize. It’s ONLY £10 but these small figures do add up with frequent consumption and before you know it, the total of your credit card statement is staggering. I’m speaking from experience here……..

High street brands are essentially a vehicle to satiate our voracious appetite for fashion. They’re smart to jump on the bandwagon to milk it for what it’s worth. It’s a causal effect of supply and demand or is it the other way round?  They’ll always be someone entrepreneurial enough to meet a need. The main objective of collaborations with popular designers (Isabel Marant pour H&M comes to mind) is  to reel those with supposedly more sophisticated palette and deeper pocket to move over to the dark side. If this demographic of potential customers can afford to spend £800 on a coat, imagine how often they will frequent the store? The designer gets a huge payout, the company gets a ton of publicity,  plenty of foot traffic and sales. The general public are given the rare opportunity to purchase expensive designer clothes at basement bargain prices. So in effect, win-win-win. Or is it? 

Somebody has to pay the price. No matter what or how these large multi billion dollar companies fervently preach about corporate social responsibility (CSR), it’s all utter bullshit. If it hurts their pocket and delivers wrath from their shareholders, they'll switch team in an instant. Few care about slave like working conditions, the use of dangerous chemicals, pumping chemically ridden waste into river and sea and so forth. The contracted factories in third world or developing nations are squeezed out of every penny to reduce operating costs in order to maximize profit. Never mind if they refuse because they will take their million dollar contract and find another factory elsewhere. The cost reducing exercise trickles down to the employees who are paid a pittance and worked in unsafe conditions. 

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Let’s go back to my rather cynical view of most CSR bullshits. Take a look at the supposedly, waste not, want not approach taken by my favorite handbag maker, Hermes. They recycled their waste by creating a new line called Petit H. Guys, let’s just call a spade, a spade. It’s a money making marketing ploy to get rid of materials that they were throwing away and charging an absolute fortune for things that no one really needs. Key chain for £400, crocodile leather sleeve for disposable coffee cup, anyone? 

I find the warped speed that fashion collections are being churned out exhausting. There's little appreciation for the designs before the next set of clothes are paraded yet again, thus the intense cycle around shows and marketing begins yet again. What are we teaching the younger generation, particularly those in their teens? It's ok to go into debt and consume endlessly? It's all about how you look. Superficiality rules? My question is, why are we consuming so much of it? 

Random Thoughts

I chose roses for my wedding bouquet but only because it was the only name I could pronounce without sounding like an illiterate. Up until last year, I didn't know what peonies nor gerberas looked like. Thank God for blogs and Instagram. *hangs head in shame* Despite my lack of knowledge of all things that have petals, did you know that the rose, other than the fact that it's the national flower of England, symbolizes love and beauty? Hence, the touching gesture of the now wilted bouquet of red roses left on the bench.  (even if you knew the facts, just act surprised anyway)






16 years ago, I could barely find a cafe in London. Out of sheer desperation, I forked out £3 (which worked out to be a stomach churning NZD $10 in those days) for a glob of tar from McDonalds.  These days, you're more likely to see cafes than tea houses. What do you know...... in recent years, my favorite coffee beverage, the great and mighty flat white, developed by the highly intelligent Kiwis (or Aussies depending on who you're asking) has finally arrived to the shores of the United Kingdom.  It has a higher proportion of coffee to milk compared to the more watered down latte.





I took a friend who was visiting from New Zealand to the town's most eccentric pub. The owner is clearly a fan of taxidermy. One of his pub regulars decided to dress the stuffed baboon in a tartan kilt. As for that massive head of a cow perched on the wall, it came all the way from Africa. It's still a rather unnerving experience sipping your drink while feeling that all eyes (albeit fake glass ones) are on you............





I'm not the biggest fan of the Chinese cuisine despite the fact that yes.....I'm obviously of Chinese descent. My poor grandma would be rolling in her grave right now. Lately, I've been inspired after watching Ken Hom's and Ching He Huang's video (Exploring China: A Culinary Adventure). Both the husband and child acted as if they'd been starved for the last 7 years of their lives, not dissimilar to malnourished and rabid wild dogs seeing food for the first time. What's wrong with the Italian cuisine?! Pfffffffft. Seriously!

Speaking of Chinese cooking, I've finally found the best wok I've ever used which turned out to be surprisingly cheap. It's not too thin, not too thick, sturdy, absorbs heat quickly and evenly and comes with a glass lid which is perfect if you're using it for steaming too.

I'm not the best with recipes and rarely follow them. The double cooked wings dish was adapted from a recipe found on the video. I tend to guesstimate the ingredients so feel free to follow, add/decrease or disregard some of them depending on your taste bud.

Ingredients
500g chicken wings
1-2 tsp five spice powder
handful of spring onions, sliced into thin long strips
1-2 chillies, seeded and sliced into thin long strips
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 inch ginger, remove skin and chopped
some Shaoxing wine
some light soy sauce
pinch of salt

1. Marinate the wings in five spice powder and salt. Massage the spice into the meat. Place in a tray and bake for 40 minutes.
2. When cooked. Remove from oven. Heat the oil in the wok until it's smoking. Add ginger and chillies. Stir fry for a couple of minutes until it's fragrant.
3. Tip the wings into the wok along with chopped garlic and spring onions. Stir for 3-4 minutes. Sprinkle 3-4 tablespoons of Shaoxing wine followed by soy sauce (equal amount). Stir for another minute or two.
4.  Dish out the contents of the wok into a large plate or bowl. Add a few strips of spring onions as garnish.

A Poignant Reminder

Amidst the busyness of the town center, one man huddled in his overly large and dirty coat with his head buried under a thin blanket, hidden away in a quiet alley. Unfortunately, it's an all too common sight despite the affluence of the town that I live in. It's a poignant reminder of how we're all a few paychecks away from being in the same situation. The shelter in town which receives a lot of financial support from churches and locals alike, work hard to assist the homeless. I spoke to a representative there and it struck home how these people could so easily be us.

A broken relationship or home, bankruptcy, redundancy and divorce resulted in a downward spiraling despair exacerbated by a dependency to alcohol and drugs. While I've been advised not to give money as it's usually spent on narcotics or liquor, a kind word, hot drink and food, warm clothing or a smile goes a long way.

**Image was captured on my phone today

Are we raising Generation I?

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We're breeding and cultivating a Generation I complete with the Me, Myself and I mentality. I know you're thinking......wow, Marlene, don't you think that's harsh? Perhaps it is. But I'm merely stating the reality in first world countries as well as in the emerging nations like India, Indonesia and China, thanks to the rise of global middle class.

We have less kids. We have more disposable incomes. We've experienced hardship (well, to a certain degree though that can't be compared to those who went through war or faced abject poverty). We want a better life for our little darlings. They're no strangers to iPad, iPhones, Legoland, Disneyland, Wii, Nintendo DS. They don't know what hunger feels like because we have a cupboard full of snacks. Just in case if they're hungry after breakfast, before or after lunch and dinner.

They're given options when they're dining. No wonder they're fussy. I'd be fussy too if I have minions (aka parents) to cater to my whims. Most households I know prepare 2 dinners every single night (though I understand that most kids can't deal with spicy food and neither can I). Then there are the helicopter parents (yes, I've been guilty of being one too) hovering to rescue our kids instead of teaching them to be more independent and to learn to accept consequences for their actions. I've always believed the best way to cure a child of their hitting/kicking/biting fetish is to give them a taste of their own medicine. There's nothing like experiencing pain to stop them dead in their tracks. Nip it in the bud or they'll grow up to become bullies.

The thing is how do they comprehend gratitude if they've never experienced hardship? Or instead of feeling privileged, it's a case of entitlement? How do they appreciate gifts when they get a mountain of stuff on their wish list every Christmas and birthday? There's a danger in this kind of love because it's like karma. Without learning compassion, kindness or even gratitude, how would we expect our "over-loved" kids to show those very important emotions to us when they're adults?

I found this "note" on a blog some years ago and I've got it taped on my wall as a reminder to myself.


Notes from a child  - Anonymous

1. Don’t spoil me. I know quite well that I ought not to have all I ask for. I’m only testing you.

2. Don’t be afraid to be firm with me. I prefer it, it makes me feel secure.

3. Don’t let me form bad habits. I have to rely on you to detect them in the early stages.

4. Don’t make me feel smaller than I am. It only makes me behave stupidly “big”.

5. Don’t correct me in front of people if you can help it. I’ll take much more notice if you talk quietly with me in private.

6. Don’t make me feel that my mistakes are sins. It upsets my sense of values.

7. Don’t protect me from consequences. I need to learn the painful way sometimes.

8. Don’t be too upset when I say “I hate you”. Sometimes it isn’t you I hate but your power to thwart me.

9. Don’t take too much notice of my small ailments. Sometimes they get me the attention I need.

10. Don’t nag. If you do, I shall have to protect myself by appearing deaf.

11. Don’t forget that I cannot explain myself as well as I should like. That is why I am not always accurate.

12. Don’t put me off when I ask questions. If you do, you will find that I stop asking and seek my information elsewhere.

13. Don’t be inconsistent. That completely confuses me and makes me lose faith in you.

14. Don’t tell me my fears are silly. They are terribly real and you can do much to reassure me if you try to understand.

15. Don’t ever suggest that you are perfect or infallible. It gives me too great a shock when I discover that you are neither.

16. Don’t ever think that it is beneath your dignity to apologize to me. An honest apology makes me feel surprisingly warm towards you.

17. Don’t forget I love experimenting. I couldn’t get along without it, so please put up with it.

18. Don’t forget how quickly I am growing up. It must be very difficult for you to keep pace with me, but please do try.

19. Don’t forget that I don’t thrive without lots of love and understanding, but I don’t need to tell you, do I?

20. Please keep yourself fit and healthy. I need you.

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Is profanity really necessary?

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Is profanity really necessary? First up, I'm going to raise my hand and say that I'm no prude. I don't want to be a hypocrite and say that I'm as pure as the driven snow. Far from it. The occasional s**t and f**k passed through my lips when I'm frustrated or irate. There are times when you feel your blood pressure hits the roof and you're so peeved that the word just escapes your mouth. I totally get it.

The thing is I've been disturbed by Garance Dore's thoughts of profanity in her April's post "Bitch Talking Shit" ever since I read it months ago. She's one of my favorite bloggers and I have nothing but respect for her so I guess we'll have to agree to disagree.

I'm a mom now and my feelings about peppering expletives throughout a conversation is a little stronger than before. Some may say, hey, it's just a figure of speech. It means nothing. Like calling each other whore or bitch. I'm still old fashioned but to me, these words and their derivatives have a more sinister connotation. Put the word mother in front of f**k and you show no respect to the woman who birthed you and sacrificed her life to bring you up. I will however, sympathize if your mother indeed is one and treated you no better than dirt.

Is it really necessary or is it a rather skewed way to show one's cool? Let's put it this way. I've never EVER seen a group of teenagers who mouthed off all forms of expletives yet remained respectful and gracious. But I've certainly seen plenty of public school kids as well as students from one of the top high schools in town with their posh accents trying to appear "cool" uttering those very words while littering the cathedral grounds and generally trying to pull one prank or another.

Yesterday, Lil L and I sat at our favorite ramen restaurant and we had the lovely privilege (sarcasm intended) of sitting next to a brash guy and his friend. The former bragged and f**ked throughout the entire meal while the latter didn't. Funny, how his friend managed to converse properly without including expletives in each sentence. The thing is I've also seen 5 year olds uttering the very same words in kindergartens, yes, even in good ol' New Zealand. I've spoken to teachers who dreaded going to school and having to deal with this. The lack of respect for others and themselves starts at a young age.

The rudder is such a small piece yet it can control the entire boat. Just like the tongue. Perhaps I've been living under a rock but personally, I've found it difficult to think good thoughts while I'm profaning my language. Which inevitably affects my actions. If anything, kindness and grace have an equal ripple effect which can only influence those around you positively.

Why Asian parents are scarier than Western parents

Having straddled both the Asian and Western cultures for more than 20 years, it occurred to me that  parenting styles from both continents couldn't be more different. As you can tell, I'm speaking from an Asian perspective here. It doesn't matter how long you've immigrated to a western country (namely, U.S, U.K, Canada, Australia or New Zealand), it takes several generations to water down the deeply rooted Confucian philosophy. Cos they don't just sit on your epidermis, they're wrapped around every blood cell in your body.

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1. Kiasu-ism

If you're a westerner, you'd be like....what the fudge is she on about? Kiasu? Is that even a word? Okay, let me break it down to you. The word is a bastardization of the hokkien dialect (a southern chinese dialect) meaning afraid (kia) to lose (su). Used in a parenting context, it's called being a Tiger Mom (or Dad). Got it?

Like Confucianism, Kiasu-ism is also a genetic affliction that's prevalent in any Asian culture. It's incurable. It is not sexist nor ageist*. Kiasu-ism, however, is racist. The condition is widespread and extremely contagious particularly in Malaysia and Singapore. The Kiasu virus is deeply embedded in our Asian DNA. Let me give you a few examples to illustrate my point here.

Kiasu parents would:
- hire a tutor or send their kids to tuition to cover every subject in school so that they would be well versed before their teachers even got around to teaching the topic.
- force their kid to covertly find out their friends' (and friends of friends' and friends of friends of friends') grades or tutor's names (cos good tutors are more coveted and in demand than an Hermes Birkin).
- go to forums such as kiasuparents.com to find out everything there is to know to ensure your kid will be the next Jerry Yang, Lang Lang etc.
-NOT want their kid to miss out on anything. Therefore, their little child prodigy will have to learn how to play the piano, violin, ballet, tennis, badminton, squash, swimming, Mandarin, French......... at the same time.
- pretend to be humble but brag about their kid's achievement. (cue Singlish - Singaporean English or Manglish - Malaysian English here) My kid.... aaah... got A+ in everything. Music, some more got distinction. But no-lah, not very smart one. Very dumb.

*And a Kiasu grandparent would try to test their granddaughter's math ability via Skype if they're separated by several continents.



2. Severity of Punishment

Check out this scenario. You're a teenager. You sneak out of the house to hang out with your friends. Or perhaps catch a movie. Or secretly have a boyfriend and you're so in love that you want to spend every minute of the day with him. (Notice I didn't bother including smoking, drinking, smoking pot etc cos if you have Asian parents, that will spell doomsday. Armageddon. End of the world. Total annihilation. You get the picture.) So you got caught and your parents have to dish out the punishment.

Western parents: (trying to be calm but still frustrated)You're grounded. I'm so disappointed in you. What were you thinking? Your cellphone will be taken away for a week.
Asian parents: (anger personified and borderline Hiroshima scale explosion) You bring shame to our family! You are such a disappointment to us! I will disinherit you. I will lock you out of the house (and they will). You're grounded forever with NO access to phone, TV and computer unless it's for school.

Now if you're just a young kid, say, 6 years old. And you diss your parents.
Western parents: Now sweetheart, that wasn't very nice, was it? Please** show a little more respect. You've just lost a star on the reward chart.

Asian parents: Go to my room and bring me the cane.

**Asian parents NEVER say please or thank you to their kids.

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3. Having a relationship

This applies especially if you're a girl. An Asian parent would gladly buy a chastity belt for their daughter if it was still in existence. Every girl approaching puberty would have been given THE TALK by her parents. You know, the one about studies being of utmost importance to ensure a good future. There will be plenty of time for boyfriends later blah blah blah blah blah. Again, notice the fact that we're not broaching on the subject of pre-marital sex or "sleepovers" because that will ensure another round of total annihilation scenario.

But.....God forbid if YOU don't have a boyfriend at the ripe old age of 24. They fear you'll be on the shelf. Forever. A spinster. Their dreams of bouncing their next generation on their old knees completely decimated. Poof. So they enlist their friends' help to set you up with a guy (a boy with good prospect, good family and he even owns his own house!!).

My thoughts on .........

My thoughts on.......

Life - Don't sweat the small stuff. Life took a different meaning when an old friend told me recently about her husband's incurable cancer. Life is precious but an adventure nonetheless with constant and unexpected twists and turns, ups and downs so make the most out of it.

Fear - It's intangible and an illusion but cripples the individual who subscribes to it. I've finally learned to ask Why Not? instead of saying I can't.

Excuses - They're a form of shifting blame instead of accepting responsibility.

Style for women in their 40s - Don't fix if it ain't broken. No idea what dressing your age means but as long as your boobs aren't spilling out of your top and butt crack isn't shown, who cares what the rules are as long as you're feeling good about what you wear.

Turning 40 next month - My brain thinks I'm 30, my body tells me I'm 40 by breaking down and my daughter tells everyone I'll be middle aged soon.

Things that make me go hmmmmm

Photo credit: Jeff Mermelstein

Applying make up in public places

I once had the misfortune of sitting in front of a lady who went through the whole make up application  (I'm talking concealer, foundation, powder, eye liner.....the whole shebang) on the tube. And the lady who obviously knew she was pretty. She preened and admired her own reflection in the window for 15 minutes. She applied, reapplied her lip gloss, checked and rechecked her reflection yet again on the compact mirror, reapplied another coat of mascara. The whole process went on and on like a video on repeat.

I have no problem with a quick slick of lippy but the rest is what I classify as personal grooming. It's a little alarming watching a fellow passenger performing a series of facial contortions just to get the make up on in all the right places.




Coconut Water

Coco what?! 1 liter costs £3.49 or thereabouts. It's the latest fad in the western world. The one that will send my relatives in Borneo into fits of incredulous laughter. That is, if they found out how much it costs. Grandma used to have coconut trees in her backyard. When I was on vacation and stayed over at her wooden house on stilts, I used to gaze out of the window to see if a coconut had fallen on the ground. It was only allowed occasionally because it was apparently too "cooling". The thing is coconut water is rather tasteless. The best bit is the flesh that you get to dig out once you've finished the drink (or in my case, empty the water the minute mah-mah's back was turned).

What's funnier is that in Malaysia, it's far more hip to pay an extortionate RM (Ringgit Malaysia) 15 for an iced coffee from Starbucks. Over here, it's hip to drink coco water straight from the fruit itself which you pay a fortune from the posh Chelsea Market in London. The coconut grass is always greener on the other side.

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Privacy? What privacy?!

You may think I've gone bonkers talking about the toilet but if you're a mom, this is a very important subject, one that's constantly discussed at mommies' round table. The minute you pop out a baby, your child/ren and husband think that your privacy is no longer required. They have no qualms opening the bathroom door, jimmying the lock and standing there to talk to you about something "extremely" important (note the sarcasm on the last 2 words). However, if you decide a little payback, they're shocked, aghast that their very own decency has been violated which in their book, is unforgivable.




On wearing white

I love the idea of wearing white. It's angelic, ethereal, clean and pure. None of these attributes, of course, can be used to describe me. The last time I tried looking ethereal while striding down the street, I ended up stepping on dog poo. I've managed to splatter sauce or something on any white clothing that I own. It's inevitable. I might as well put a sign on my outfit and say, place a mark here and here and here and here.



Children's menu

Call it cultural differences but I've never ever seen a children's menu till I got to England. In Asia, Italy, France or even Greece, kids just eat what everyone eats. While the adults get to eat ravioli stuffed with roast porcini and burata and lightly drenched in butter and sage or fried stuffed courgette flowers with mozzarella, elderflower and anchovies, the kids get.......nuggets or the English version of spag bol. I mean, really?!

Why? Is it because the kids are programmed to think that they can't eat anything save the limited repertoire of food that they've been trained to? I don't think many kids in our parents' generation nor ours ever complained about food. And if you're hungry enough, you'll eat just about anything.

3 Types of Toxic Friends

I remember reading somewhere that for women, breaking up with a girlfriend is a demise apparently worse than a divorce. I don't know how true that is but what I do know is that it's a remarkably painful and long drawn process.

Lately, I've been thinking.....we cull our closets every now and then to discard clothes that no longer fit us or discover ones that you've forgotten but why don't we do the same with friends? It sounds rather cold and perhaps, harsh but why do we keep the ones that suck the very life out of us yet we spend little time with genuine friends? I'm generalizing here when I've divvied up unsuitable friendships into 3 categories even though there are too many to count.


1. The Victim
Though we've all gone through phases where we moaned, complained and whinged, the victim  is permanently stuck here and never moves on. The worst thing is, she verbally vomits on you and merrily goes on her way while you have to deal with the repercussions of her negativity. She thrives on drama (in fact, she should live permanently in a soap opera), fervently believes that she has been wronged and blames everyone for her misfortune yet takes no responsibility for it.

A close friend once gave me a much needed kick in the rear end and told me to shut up and stop feeling sorry for myself. And I did. These days, I try to instill in myself a sense of gratitude instead of entitlement because for every setback that I experience, there's someone else out there who's worse off than I.


2. The Taker
The taker or otherwise known as the helpless damsel in distress. They take advantage of your hospitality, kindness and generosity. All. The. Time. They pillage, plunder and loot from their friends, giving nothing back but lip service. Don't be fooled by the friendly facade for that's a camouflage. Don't expect your benevolence to be reciprocated in times of trouble unless the planets have aligned itself in perfect symmetry and the odds are in their favor.


3. The Frenemy
Is she a friend or an enemy? Well, both. Unfortunately, your lives are kind of intertwined which makes it even harder to extricate yourself from her. She's fooled you into thinking that she's your best friend but turn your back and you're likely to find a few daggers embedded into your spinal column. You go through elation (she's THE best friend anyone could ask for. EVER) to confusion (why did she do that to me? Why? Why?!!) to guilt (she's the master of emotional manipulation) to anger (how could she?!).


All three - the victim, the taker and the frenemy are products of the Generation I also known as  Me, myself and I. What they've done is provided me with several important life lessons which are
1) don't take people for granted for they're not stupid and will eventually avoid you like the plague
2) invest in the ones you love and you will reap what you sow - with compounding interest ( (love grows exponentially) 
3) count your blessings for there are many

Do you similar unhealthy friends?