Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Outfits
I remember the chronology of my personal history from the outfits and footwear I don. Going through my wardrobe, I often find myself transported back to a certain “era” of my life distinct by my style of that period.
Just late last week, DL and I finally tidied our junk yard apartment that we have been living in for the past three months (amidst a pile of junk where we could hardly walk in the house without tripping over shitloads of things) to make it look like a home. The mission took an entire day beginning at 8am that only managed to conclude at 12 midnight. We gave away furniture, seived through clothes, shoes and books. I must've have given away fifteen pairs of shoes, some never worn in my life and three massive tarpaulin bags of goodie clothes, ranging from designer wear to items bought on a whim and never worn before.
Every so often during the culling process, I stopped to ponder if I could handle parting with an item. I have things that I have worn since I was 16 that I could never bring myself to throw away despite having little use for it now. There was the red Chinoiserie jacket that distinct my 16-year-old style that I often matched with my bell bottom pants and my platform shoes. I wore that straight, long hair down to my waist and donned that thick mascara lashed and black eyelined mod make up look.
I unpacked my bags and found that vintage black and white striped dress that I wore during my first proper date with the Old Boy where we ended the night frolicking in his car. The other week, I mentioned about the dress and he said, yeah he remembered it. You are not thinking about giving it away, are you, he asked. I have not worn that dress since.
Next, I found what I would call my convenient little, short, casual black dress that I often wear last year when I was too lazy to think about what to put on. I haven't seen it in a while. I remember the dress with a slight tinge of heartache. It was the 10th of March last year that the Old Boy and I were intimate for the last time and never again. Even then, he probably felt coerced into it- a Pyrrhic victory it was. Funny, it was the last time I sucked a man.
Once during the packing and unpacking process, DL called out to me. Excitedly, he exclaimed that he found his favourite shoes. He came into the bathroom where my ass was perched on the toilet seat and before me, he produced my pair of gold and navy satin fabric four inched heels with ankle lace ups from Guess by Mariciano. He asked me when I got them and again noted that I didn't take good care of my shoes upon realising I have worn the shoes no more than two times. The polished finished heel were scratched badly. I remember this shoe too well and truly. It was that Wednesday in January 2008 where I bought this pair of shoes to match with a navy and yellow dress. That night, I was meeting the Old Boy and later in the night, to boogie with my bunch of friends, the Koran included. Came March, I was back home again in Singapore. I wore that same pair of shoes to Prive to meet my friends and the Old Boy. He left me suddenly and in my hurt state, I rang for the Koran. That night, I went to his house and did the unthinkable again.During our walk to his apartment, in my tipsy state, I tripped in my high heels and fell. I always have that two-inch scar on my knee now to remind me of that night- my rendezvous (oops, I did it once again to the Old Boy), my pain and that low point that mark my personal history. The things DL doesn't know about with this pair of shoes.
Next, I found my Givenchy suede leather boots that I have never worn and which I bought during a serendipitous sale that happened to be valid only for that weekend. For a long time, I have been eyeing that pair of boots in the departmental store but the price was way too dear for me to take the plunge. So I reckon it was fate that I finally could owned it, just like my Fuchsia tweed suit that was to mark my trademark style during my corporate life. The Fuchsia tweed suit being the one and only suit that caught my eye upon my university graduation. I was back from my travels to Cuba, America and Canada, broke without a job and thinking that my career path was going to be the straight and narrow one of an accountant, so that vibrancy would not go too well during interviews. Plus I wasn't able to afford a A$600 suit. Somehow I just knew it would be mine but I didn't know why and how. But life has a way of throwing in some pleasant surprises and I am of the belief that if you wished hard enough for something, somehow it will come to you. Somehow, the only place that wanted to hire me was that Australian fashion label- I got my first job as a store manager and got that suit (and many other business suits that would benefit me later in my corporate life) for free. Pro Bono for my good faith, perhaps.
The Old Boy had noticed that I would make the effort and dress up for him, during our short time together. He remembers me by my black outfits, vintage dresses and matching “classy” shoes.
I was going through my wardrobe and noticed that I indeed do have tons of black clothes. Dresses especially. I saw the Marcs asymmetrical dress that DL bought me during my 23rd birthday. Then another black 20s flapper style dress that I bought in Paris and which I wore the day where I first met the acquaintance of Big M at Attica in the year of 2004. And there was the black laced halter neck with the plunging neckline dress that I wore when M came to spend the New Year with me in Singapore in 2006, where Big M came to join me for drinks only to realise my “friend” was male and for years before we met up at Ballantine again, Big M has requested for me to wear that dress once more when we meet again. In the cupboard, I also saw that black, plunging neckline jersey dress that I wore to work sometimes- it was the same dress where I donned and had a rendezvous with the French Aura in his Parisian apartment on 22nd November 2004, the week before I left Paris and in August 2006, I wore it again with black fishnet stockings to celebrate Dopey's birthday with him. He found the “plunging neckline” distracting.
The other day, I tried putting on my purplish short DKNY dress with yet another plunging neckline. I had that dress since I was 19. Vivid memories- it was the day for once in our lives that Mr. London and I celebrated our birthdays together. But he brought a girl he met at a party the night before. In his birthday card ironically, I wrote and confessed for the first time that I liked him. That night, he sent the girl home and left me with his friend (“please take care of P”) who tried to hit on me. I was broken-hearted for a long time and soon after, he called me a couple of times (perhaps to gain more clarity from what he could interpret from that birthday card) but I kept missing his calls and sometimes, I just didn't pick up because I couldn't handle him dealing me an emotional blow that he was just not into me. So for years, I continued being trapped in the ghost of his memory right up till when I was a young 25-year old adult. Our meeting up again in Paris somehow ended that long emotional chapter in my life.
So many memories encapsulated in the outfits, so many stories to tell. Perhaps if you look through your wardrobe, you too might be transported back in time to places you have forgotten you have been. In the midst, a skeleton or two may well fall out of your closet.
I remember the chronology of my personal history from the outfits and footwear I don. Going through my wardrobe, I often find myself transported back to a certain “era” of my life distinct by my style of that period.
Just late last week, DL and I finally tidied our junk yard apartment that we have been living in for the past three months (amidst a pile of junk where we could hardly walk in the house without tripping over shitloads of things) to make it look like a home. The mission took an entire day beginning at 8am that only managed to conclude at 12 midnight. We gave away furniture, seived through clothes, shoes and books. I must've have given away fifteen pairs of shoes, some never worn in my life and three massive tarpaulin bags of goodie clothes, ranging from designer wear to items bought on a whim and never worn before.
Every so often during the culling process, I stopped to ponder if I could handle parting with an item. I have things that I have worn since I was 16 that I could never bring myself to throw away despite having little use for it now. There was the red Chinoiserie jacket that distinct my 16-year-old style that I often matched with my bell bottom pants and my platform shoes. I wore that straight, long hair down to my waist and donned that thick mascara lashed and black eyelined mod make up look.
I unpacked my bags and found that vintage black and white striped dress that I wore during my first proper date with the Old Boy where we ended the night frolicking in his car. The other week, I mentioned about the dress and he said, yeah he remembered it. You are not thinking about giving it away, are you, he asked. I have not worn that dress since.
Next, I found what I would call my convenient little, short, casual black dress that I often wear last year when I was too lazy to think about what to put on. I haven't seen it in a while. I remember the dress with a slight tinge of heartache. It was the 10th of March last year that the Old Boy and I were intimate for the last time and never again. Even then, he probably felt coerced into it- a Pyrrhic victory it was. Funny, it was the last time I sucked a man.
Once during the packing and unpacking process, DL called out to me. Excitedly, he exclaimed that he found his favourite shoes. He came into the bathroom where my ass was perched on the toilet seat and before me, he produced my pair of gold and navy satin fabric four inched heels with ankle lace ups from Guess by Mariciano. He asked me when I got them and again noted that I didn't take good care of my shoes upon realising I have worn the shoes no more than two times. The polished finished heel were scratched badly. I remember this shoe too well and truly. It was that Wednesday in January 2008 where I bought this pair of shoes to match with a navy and yellow dress. That night, I was meeting the Old Boy and later in the night, to boogie with my bunch of friends, the Koran included. Came March, I was back home again in Singapore. I wore that same pair of shoes to Prive to meet my friends and the Old Boy. He left me suddenly and in my hurt state, I rang for the Koran. That night, I went to his house and did the unthinkable again.During our walk to his apartment, in my tipsy state, I tripped in my high heels and fell. I always have that two-inch scar on my knee now to remind me of that night- my rendezvous (oops, I did it once again to the Old Boy), my pain and that low point that mark my personal history. The things DL doesn't know about with this pair of shoes.
Next, I found my Givenchy suede leather boots that I have never worn and which I bought during a serendipitous sale that happened to be valid only for that weekend. For a long time, I have been eyeing that pair of boots in the departmental store but the price was way too dear for me to take the plunge. So I reckon it was fate that I finally could owned it, just like my Fuchsia tweed suit that was to mark my trademark style during my corporate life. The Fuchsia tweed suit being the one and only suit that caught my eye upon my university graduation. I was back from my travels to Cuba, America and Canada, broke without a job and thinking that my career path was going to be the straight and narrow one of an accountant, so that vibrancy would not go too well during interviews. Plus I wasn't able to afford a A$600 suit. Somehow I just knew it would be mine but I didn't know why and how. But life has a way of throwing in some pleasant surprises and I am of the belief that if you wished hard enough for something, somehow it will come to you. Somehow, the only place that wanted to hire me was that Australian fashion label- I got my first job as a store manager and got that suit (and many other business suits that would benefit me later in my corporate life) for free. Pro Bono for my good faith, perhaps.
The Old Boy had noticed that I would make the effort and dress up for him, during our short time together. He remembers me by my black outfits, vintage dresses and matching “classy” shoes.
I was going through my wardrobe and noticed that I indeed do have tons of black clothes. Dresses especially. I saw the Marcs asymmetrical dress that DL bought me during my 23rd birthday. Then another black 20s flapper style dress that I bought in Paris and which I wore the day where I first met the acquaintance of Big M at Attica in the year of 2004. And there was the black laced halter neck with the plunging neckline dress that I wore when M came to spend the New Year with me in Singapore in 2006, where Big M came to join me for drinks only to realise my “friend” was male and for years before we met up at Ballantine again, Big M has requested for me to wear that dress once more when we meet again. In the cupboard, I also saw that black, plunging neckline jersey dress that I wore to work sometimes- it was the same dress where I donned and had a rendezvous with the French Aura in his Parisian apartment on 22nd November 2004, the week before I left Paris and in August 2006, I wore it again with black fishnet stockings to celebrate Dopey's birthday with him. He found the “plunging neckline” distracting.
The other day, I tried putting on my purplish short DKNY dress with yet another plunging neckline. I had that dress since I was 19. Vivid memories- it was the day for once in our lives that Mr. London and I celebrated our birthdays together. But he brought a girl he met at a party the night before. In his birthday card ironically, I wrote and confessed for the first time that I liked him. That night, he sent the girl home and left me with his friend (“please take care of P”) who tried to hit on me. I was broken-hearted for a long time and soon after, he called me a couple of times (perhaps to gain more clarity from what he could interpret from that birthday card) but I kept missing his calls and sometimes, I just didn't pick up because I couldn't handle him dealing me an emotional blow that he was just not into me. So for years, I continued being trapped in the ghost of his memory right up till when I was a young 25-year old adult. Our meeting up again in Paris somehow ended that long emotional chapter in my life.
So many memories encapsulated in the outfits, so many stories to tell. Perhaps if you look through your wardrobe, you too might be transported back in time to places you have forgotten you have been. In the midst, a skeleton or two may well fall out of your closet.
