Hello, I blog!
I share all my sporadic and toilet thoughts in here, because I am random like that.
Addicted to denim
In recent months, I’m finding myself increasingly hooked on denim. I love its ruggedness and its versatility, and how it matches with absolutely anything.
Denim also has an inherent characteristic that I can relate to – how it’s tough and able to withstand even the roughest of terrains and yet still emerge strong. Sure, it undergoes loads of wear and tear. But that’s what gives it personality. Just like how battle scars say a lot about a person’s past history, and shape one’s character.
I bought the following denim vest online a couple of days ago.
Photos credit to Wonderstellar.
The parcel reached me today, and I tore it apart with glee.
But when I attempted to stick it in my wardrobe, I took in the view of all my other denim shirts (5 long sleeved and 2 sleeveless) hung side-by-side, along with my humongous stack of denim bottoms … and felt insanely guilty.
Oh well.
I want this hat!
Each time I step into River Island, the first thing I’d do is to dive straight for the accessories section and single out this particular hat.
Making a face to match the hat.
I’d put the hat on, make a bunch of ridiculous faces, and then peer into the mirror to check out how awesome it looks.
Even better if you have a friend around to capture every bit of your fanatical behaviour on camera. (Out of the salespeoples’ line of vision, of course – I doubt photography was allowed in the store.)
Smiley-head.
It’s an off-white knitted ski cap with this huge black poofy … thing at the top. And a huge smiley-face at the front.
Damn, I want this hat. Oh, so bad.
I’m blue, dub-a-dee dub-a-dum
[Written at 11.03 A.M. (01st June) Singapore time, 8.03 P.M. (31st May) Vancouver time.]
Because I believe one should attempt to do outrageous things when one is on holiday.
I’m not the type that bungee-jumps off buildings (my health can’t take it anyway), but I’m a tomboy who generally shuns anything remotely girly. So when I saw this particular bottle of bright blue nail polish at Sephora, the first question that came to mind was – should I?
I’ve never painted my nails before – apart from a couple of times in lower secondary when I was going through the usual teenager-y phase – so this was pretty foreign. But heck it. I got the bottle anyway, did a bit of painting (with loads of help from my mum) and … behold!
Blue nails!
Looks fairly decent, methinks. Although some might argue that my hands now look as though I have hypothermia.
On a completely different note, I got myself an awesome water tumbler from Old Navy. It can contain hot water (to keep myself warm). Only three buckeroos, if I remember correctly.
Caution: Extreme Awesomeness!
I’d be flying off to Toronto tomorrow afternoon. Ottawa and Niagara falls, here I come!
Until then!
Find Me
