The Ultimate White

It's one of those niggling questions lingering around your ears when you reach a certain age, and believe me when I write these words : I am not one who dreams about white fluff of weddings. Somehow, being in your mid-twenties, Marriage is the inevitable question at family dinners and quick courteous conversation with people you haven't seen for awhile, usually from people of a much older generation, wondering aloud why is it that your fine self has yet to get hitched with someone of the opposite sex. And there's nothing much you can say but a cheeky retort of some sort to dodge the bullet.

So it comes to me as a relief when the Fashion editor of Elle UK found it difficult to get started on her wedding plans, let alone picking THE dress, culminating to a 2 year engagement, just because she didn't really gave much thought to the idea of being wed. It's good to know that there are people out there who hasn't got a clue what her preferences are for a wedding gown, considering the fact that this woman in question works in a big fashion magazine, and would've had at least a vague idea on styling her big day.

And then my bestie drops the biggest piece of news of her wedding plans next October and all of a sudden that conversation we had not so long ago about weddings and gowns all came back to me like a ton of bricks. It wasn't just idle chit chat.

She asked if I ever gave much thought to a 'dream wedding', and if I ever had a dress in mind?

Considering that I have put this post in draft mode for the past 3 months, I still haven't gave much thought to it, but am suddenly reminded of the video that Peter showed us during Design Studio in Year 3 and everything else just falls into place in a heartbeat.

It's the ultimate white, and that defining moment for me in fashion. It changed the way I thought of design and the very meaning of clothes, ironically, based on that single idea of brides and widows. Low and behold Yohji Yamamoto's legendary S/S '99 collection, in 3 parts, from YouTube (what would we do without you???) It's amazing how the deliberately slow pace choreography, muted colours, subtle complexities in construction and piano music can do to your senses and get the wheels churning inside.

Feet to fit the job

I don't always proclaim my love for the job, and for the past 1 and half year, it has been a rare occurence. Monday, however was an exception, and whilst I'm not bursting to the seams with love for the career climbing, I was ready to jump through more hoops just to get to do it all over again.

Shoe buying is an experience to behold. So many shoes, so little time. I walked into the showroom greeted by half a room covered with shoes of all shapes and colours, laid neatly in rows, organised according to their monthly capsules. It might not be the most exciting brand out there for the under 25s, it's still a highlight in my career thus far. Being in that position of seeing, feeling and selecting the merchandise 6 months prior to its actual launch date is a privilege that I'd like to have all the time.

I don't always like my ugly toenails, but having sample size feet is a blessing in disguise. So I can't complain. It's like that moment in Grey's where Meredith walked out from the OR after her first surgery - it's just such a natural high. It's moments like these that makes everything worthwhile. >The cliches of a buying career is literally a cliche of sorts, and oh so much joy! <-----cue me in my most exaggerated enthusiastic voice. Sadly, in my haste, I did not snap any pictures of the whole setup.

Now, I might want to start thinking of painting my toenails if I'm going to start flaunting them in public.....hmmm.

Warehouse Sales as you know it

In desperate times comes desperate measures. That's the reality of the fashion business these days unless you're a designer doing creative things and not really caring much on actually making a sale. I say this with some bite in my words and possibly with some slight contempt for I am truly worn out by the many offsite events that we've been pulling left and right, not to mention trying hard to stay in focus on the more important things in store.

Times like these I ask the inevitable question of whether the same module is practised by eminent retailers like Selfridges and Harvey Nics, for I am afterall still more familiar with the concept of a clearance outlet/ bargain corner or even sample sales than say warehouse sales where large stock lots were bought off by event organisers to make a quick buck.

So tonight, as I try to chill and prep myself on another day in the slaughterhouse, whilst aimlessly browsing through Diane Pernet's blog filled with all these hip young creative people doing creative things and lunching with their creative counterparts, I wonder if it ever occur to these people the real consequences of being too clever and creative for their own good? And if they ever had to degenerate to the extent of designing 'best buy' items like £2 t-shirts (not the cheapo high street collaborative kind) just to fulfill the requirements of the market, how would they feel?

The more I am involved in organising all these warehouse sales events, the more I am disgusted by the volume of stocks purposefully produced just to make that quick buck. Like I've always told people that nothing in fashion is accidental, it's been planned way in advance to behave in a certain way in the future. These value buy stocks are created in the same purpose - to anticipate sales period and as means to buffer margins and to ensure constant flow of sales merchandise. Of course such methods would be too crude for brands residing on the higher end of the scale, so they end up producing too many of the actual thing instead, resulting in countless dead stock accumulating around the world. Equally just as bad, but who am I to judge whose sale strategy is more effective and clever?

And then when the time is right, a group of people comes along with the great big plan of organising warehouse sales that promise good bargains and great finds at a massively reduced price. Suppliers and shoppers convene under a large roof with the retailer watches on as the cash register rings its melodious 'ka-ching', pleased with the innocent, so-called thrifty consumers that fell prey to their grand masterplans. Little did they know that their love for cheap thrills have been so thoroughly exploited by shrewd business people whom were actually playing a game of wits masked under the mostly false pretense of 'stock liquidation'.

But at the end of the day, it's a winning triangular formula. What's not to like about warehouse sales when there's bargains to be found and money to be made? You reap where your efforts are due no matter which side of the triangle you're on, and that is the true name of this funny game.



Still...woe to my sleep deprived shell.

Conceal, not lies

I often wonder if my star sign has anything to do with my personality. Though it must be said that there are vast similarities that begged to be differ but one can't deny that the traits are all there. The sense of justice, the need to balance and profound indulgence on beautiful things, all telltale signs of a typical Libran. More often than not, we're told that we're suited for jobs in law, design and public sevice, but little mention of business. So tonight I'm stump as to where I fit into the whole equation at work, where a little bit of concealer is dabbed on the various mini situations that has been popping up left and right.

In my line of work I'm an entrepreneur of sorts. Usually I don't bother explaining what I actually do because in the most simplest of laymen's terms, I'm a buyer. A buyer conjures up a million images of a person who jetsets around the world buying things on the company's expense nary a care in the world, sourcing for the most interesting things from all the corners of the world and putting them on the shelves. To a certain extent, it's quite true but only a glamourised version of the real deal. Buying and sourcing is just one of the many tasks that I do as a merchandiser, and it's usually out of a catalogue where numbers and careful consideration take the joy out of what seems to be frivolous shopping. Bad shopping decisions end up being dead stock on the shelf, and no merchandiser likes selling things at half price as it's a reflection of all things negative, from your tastes, to your judgement and most importantly your understanding of the masses. And then there's the people that supplies you the goods, and the people that you work for. When one is at a position where tons of information passes through everyday, talking becomes more than a skill, it's an art of its own.

In business, the most important thing that I've learnt from my job as of late is to conceal and to hold back. It took me a while to figure this out as it seems that I'm genetically predisposed to be far too honest for my own good that the only links that I made were that of little white lies.

Contrary to my own beliefs, it has nothing to do with lying or altering the reality of the situation. It is a matter of choosing the right words to say and when to say it. There is a line there somewhere where information travels only to come to a stand still, sometimes, it crosses over the line to the other side, other times, it's just there, for you and only you to know. Within business context, your bosses know, but your vendors and your frontline staff don't. Why say it when it doesn't benefit yourself nor 3rd parties nor change the situation? So while it doesn't always point to the right side of the moral compass, knowing what to say can help you secure the best of deals, failing that, you grab the raw end of the stick, hoping that your words won't come back and bite you in the head. Whoever said that it's lying anyways, when selective speech is concerned?

Moral of this post? Always always think before speaking, in business, in relationships, in life. Now someone give me the Art of War, before I engage in a spar of words with another vendor...

G for gratitude

It's been an interesting day of sorts where very little paperwork is accomplished and paths with new seasoned faces are crossed with each hour passed. While most of the time it's face value, inane chit chat and industry gossip, it's actually a battle of wits where the art of tact is practiced down to the tee. You might say that it's superficial, but it's one of the many areas that I enjoy at work. Like any relationship, it always start out all polite, civil and friendly, until you start working with them that is.

From the POV of a lowlife, it's a spectacle of its own. I observe and I listen. I butt into conversation occasionally, trying a hand at the small talk. Sometimes my brain drifts a little and I wonder if I'll ever be like these people 10-20 years down the road, still working within the industry, seasoned as old ginger and reeking wisdom (and not oil nor sly) out of every pore. I can only hope, that with sheer hardwork, persistence and good luck, I'll eventually be someone respectable and revered in my chosen field. Not too much to ask from the fashion gods, no?

My year and a half back in KL has been in many instances enlightening. The time spent in Melbourne trying to find my real voice, to being in London all comfortable in my skin and then back to being unsettled again in the city I was born in, continues to raise questions on my identity as a global citizen, and the role that I play as a puzzle piece within my immediate circle. Life goes through its motions and fashion with its endless cyclical circus, I am reflecting as I write , in this slightly pensive, gratitude manner of the people that made my career as a merchandiser interesting and rewarding thus far:

B, the manager with the heart of gold, always so kind and understanding, when will I learn to have patience and tact like yours, combined with H's razor sharp tongue, wits and spunky attitude?

To the female GMs that I have had chance to meet, wow, I don't know if I'll ever soar to those heights, it seems so far away right now, but I'd sure like to know how you juggle multibillion businesses and life and still look fabulous. It's a mystery.

S, who has so much influence over the industry, I didn't think of it much until I witnessed it first hand today. Someone's gotta do something for the designers and kudos for being the one championing it and in magnificent looking heels. I'd like to be doing the same in my own way some day.

J, the VP, whom I can never decide is a good or bad cop. Clever nontheless.

My fellow peers in the industry, let's rock the joint together and put our little stamps all over the place until we can truly say that we've made it to the top.
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Now this reads like a thank you note at the back of the album cover.
I am capable of cheese after all.
good night! x

Simple Pleasures

I wonder if I've reduced myself to a post a month. It's that time of the year again, or shall I say that time in the month where everyone spend themselves silly in store trying to grab the best bargains? Some days I wonder how I cope with all these things in my life, but I suppose that's what you really learn in your twenties - that delicate act of balancing. How do you walk on the fine line every single day without losing balance? I'm living it and I'm not even sure how. So between the super super madness at work (is the entire world in a sale fatigue mode just yet?)and my craft and running the market circuit, it leaves me very little time for this blog. I'm going to have to work on it harder! So many things have pass me by for the past 3 months in a furor of work and a little bit of London nostalgia was somewhat welcoming.

1. Scar reducing gel plasters - I do not for my life understand why you can't get them in asia. These are better than any gels or cica care I've ever used. At the very least, I feel like the scars are being flatten as we speak.
   
2. Gorgeous magazine freebie in the form of a cotton Urban Outfitters tote. Whilst I don't usually get overly excited over bags with slogans or brands plastered over it, this was done so subtly that I didn't mind fessin' up my love for Urban Outfitters.
3. Manolo Blahnik book of shoe sketches for under 10 quid. Need I say more?
4. Pylones liquid ring and earrings - ah I do miss wandering in the Octopus store just to be inspired.
5. Modern Jewellery catalogues that make you wish that you were the one with the brilliant idea.
6. crafty bits and bobs from the market.
7. M&S cherries. If only we have the food hall here...
   
8. PG Tips! the only way to drink english breakfast. Yums. You can't get more English than that. How typical!
   

This cheers me up to no end. I am a girl of simple (imported) pleasures.

Bless mommy.

When words and art collide, no one cuts paper like Rob Ryan does

Tonight, words have utterly utterly fail me as mom and I pour through a word document filled with bad English. It reminds me of those nights spent editing group assignments to a seamless fault. Language might not be everyone's cup of chai, but it is one of the many things that I happen to like (and good at it). Crafting a simple prose is an art form in itself, and seeing that we use words and sentences everyday, it would seem that we're spouting, living art constantly on the tips of our tongues and nibs, only some more refined than others. Poetic justice, no?



Often I find the beauty in words not just on a page of a book, but on the book cover itself. In some instances, you could say that I judge a book by its cover, and that a beautiful cover sells the book on its own, very much similar to the hanging appeal of a garment. It is art afterall that we admire, both inside and out. It's always a bonus when both words and art collide, creating more than just oratorical fireworks, but something much more divine and complex, inspiring far more emotional content than each singular form of art could ever be.



Introducing Rob Ryan's brand of cut paper. Immaculately detailed and complex, it is more than just cleverly crafted paper or spoken witticisms. It is unrequited love, and the grandeur of romance entwined in lush foliage, bows, birds and ringing bells, the common denominator and favoured symbols in all of his artworks.



At a sweeping glance, there is a mass of paper, large in scale and impossibly fragile. I remember feeling awed by it all standing in the small space in Beyond the Valley(gem of a shop off Carnaby Street, London). Bit by bit the details sink it. First you get mesmerised by the overall prettiness of it. All one see are the cute, happy symbols of love. Then the words start to speak to you, I would imagine, in a non-plussed manner. It's unassumingly plain and not entirely chirpy like the birds. All of a sudden, your heart's wrenching, a realisation dawned. It hits you like a ton of bricks, quite like falling in and out of love. All that is left in the end is this endearing vision of romance.


I kind of regretted not buying his book whilst in London early this year. I'm finding it hard to track it down in local bookstores, but have alas made an order with MPH. Times Bookstore has lost their copy somewhere, and there's no information at all on Kino bookweb. Such is the obsucurity of this little gem. In the 3-4 weeks that I'm patiently waiting for my book to arrive (MPH had to reorder), I'm going to ogle at my Rob Ryan skirt kit instead (bought at a happy bargain price from the net) - which I am reluctant to put my scissors to work but have every intention to frame it up.