SuperSale Bazaar and a sartorial binge

1.0 The apricot brown bag is from a bags-and-clothes booth manned by a sweet young lady and her mum. I saw loose threads and asked her to cut them for me because I’m such a loser who doesn’t have scissors at home.

1.1 Discovered Dean & Trent, a local men’s clothing line, through their fine-printed androgynous blazer; the gray thing on the back of the chair.

2.0 Some cheap belt I purchased because I somehow managed to haggle with the missuses at an odds-and-ends booth. This went with one brown belt, long-sleeved round-neck from EDC, floral blouse from OLIVE des OLIVE, a Korean brand, and brown tee and long-sleeved buttoned shirt from Levi’s for my sister.

3.0 The print on the EDC top; this photo’s mangled because I slacked off at re-sizing it.

4.0 Peep-toe cutout wedge bootie from another local brand, Centipede.

The SuperSale Bazaar ends at 10 o’clock tonight. Bring your own eco bag to avoid looking like a plastic-bag-toting dork when you do your rounds. The aisles are kindof cramped and I was paranoid for being the only non-environmentally friendly female there. WARNING: THIS ACTIVITY MIGHT DRAIN YOUR WALLET.

Day 4: Lent

The world goes home. The lights go down. My lipstick fades away. 

If you saw the semi-deserted Ayala Avenue tonight, you’d feel those lines. Come Maundy Thursday, even my sister and I would be at our parents’ house.

All the Capitol people disappearing into the districts.

It’s Christmas at the start of summer.

Free vacation leaves for everyone.

Who said again that April is the cruellest month? (typo intended)

Now, wherever you are from the world, Lent* would affect you in some ways you have no control of. So I dare you to move. (Two song references in one post, I must really be this lost for words.) HAVE SOME ROOF DECK ROCKIN’ MOMENT AND TELL ME ABOUT IT.

Yep, I just shouted.

And oh, take photographs**. :D

This was totally just for laughs.

* Lent = Like this almost a week-long break is borrowed time

** I moonlight as a model. Kidding.

The world is a runway

I used to say that circa 2010. It’s true, not only for me. Time after time there would be a man or a woman whose style would so stand out that the whole world notices. We note which ones our icons wear, Calvin Klein or Vera Wang, American or European, couture or not couture. Yet there would also be that category of people that diverges from iconography while remaining distinct in its style, like those depicted by The Sartorialist. This could comprise the very people we encounter in the office, on the streets, or at school or home. Today, I pay homage to their kind.

*****

I don’t know how fashion sense can be acquired, for I am sure I went through that phase wherein I was a lousy dresser. Well, here’s something lousy: during high school, I went to a community service event wearing light orange turtleneck tank top and tangerine knee-length skirt; we went to work in a prairie that day. Regardless of such cases, I was pretty confident I could pull off anything I put on my body (thanks for the genes, mom and dad!).

I don’t really abide by a set of rules, but I like colors, patterns, and prints. That’s why I love encountering people on the streets striding in their pretty outfits. Those who don’t wear whatever they think other people are wearing, but paid attention to their clothing’s details. They’re actually the same people I was talking about above, they’re the substance and very life of the truth I’ve found. The world is my runway — don’t you just love how that sounds?

*****

Lastly, I and Jona, my shutterbug friend, struck up a photo shoot of sorts at our office building’s roof deck. Our little project started last Monday. Here, have a peek:

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Photos by Jona Crisologo, post-processed by me

Thoughts on brogues and being friends with trolls

“Objectivity regarding brogues relies on a number of variables. Hence: it depends. A quality pair of brogues (with good material, color, and shape) CAN look good on certain people. By process of elimination, I conclude that they don’t look good on women with cankles.”

~ SDJ, fashion police

The ensemble: Blue cardigan (Red Girl), blue denim with periwinkle detail tube dress (YRYS), AND THE cream brogues (Cole Vintage); thanks TJ for the place and the iPhone, and JC for the all-out support

Some eons ago I, the fashion primitive, thought I might actually hack putting on brogues – “oh, those ugly shoes  for women,” typed the fashion police on our Skype friends thread. I ended up almost hacking my keyboard to square bits instead, in an effort to virtually bark out a defensive answer.

What could you really say to a heels person; the guy who advocates women’s right to step on a good duo of three-inches and who always sizes it up himself, that if an outfit could match effortlessly with high heels, why should a lady bother with flat footwear? Point taken. Next thing I knew, a deal was on. And I was hell-bent on proving him wrong (at first). I even came up with a plan:

1. Google “brogue looks” to copy.

2. Search for that kind of dress that won’t flow seamlessly with high heels.

3. Buy a neutral, two-toned, or three-toned brogues for a good finish.

The Brogue Project was spurred on to completion by the support of my circle of friends in the office, the fashion police included — we call ourselves the trolls. After I went over the whole shebang, my friends’ verdict was… well, it was a smashing success. And this is where friendship trumps fashion. It feels warm to be surrounded by a small bunch that would nudge you to express yourself a little more than the usual.

Let me confess: I wasn’t the type who believed in making genuine connections at work. I sucked at it before. But whatever my doubts were, the trolls erased them.

We’ve been through the last Christmas, Valentine’s Day, birthdays, lunch-outs, after-work hangouts, 3PM breaks, all sorts of breaks (like bio-breaks and “cut us some slack, we are PMS-ing” for the girls, sorry TMI), spontaneous photo shoots, teasing, violent reactions, and so yeah, I mean all those shared memories.

We differ in so many things: age, heel-size preferences, fashion statements, Alma mater, lunch-out venue decisions, religious and perhaps political opinions, etc. But we, the seven of us, are always welcome to be ourselves and speak our minds on the thread or face-to-face.

They have taught me things I never learned in school, like anger management and sensitivity. They also never fail to make me laugh. I’d be worse than a hermit to not admit that yes, what I have here are people whose companionship and presence have filled a part of my life. It is not by way of survival or chance that I am friends with them. This I can say with all my <3. Yet they hate sappy moments like this so I should stop.  Better yet, might we stop for a…

*group hug*