Look what I got in the mail today...

Chevaux de bois: Sun Tzu, window shopping, boxy purses and other fine musings

If ignorant both of your enemy and yourself, you are certain to be in peril.
Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.

Sun Tzu, The Art of War

I learnt a new french word today. Chevaux de bois. It means "Wooden Horse" [thank you google translate]. I had no idea how to pronounce it so I made the nice google translate voice read it out loud several times as it sounded so pretty. I thought it would immediately lend a certain chicness to this blog as I once again try to convince my reader[s? ] that I am indeed part of the style cognoscenti. It was the name of a cute little boutique in one of my favorite shopping malls in Hong Kong: Beverly Island, Causeway Bay. Much to my boyfriend's chagrin [and the reason we rarely shop together] I can happily window-shop for hours, not buy a single thing, and feel like I've had a productive few hours. To me, it's akin to browsing an art gallery of sorts.

Don't be fooled, Beverly Island is not a posh resort island somewhere in the Caribbean. Nay, it is a typical Hong Kong style mall full of lots of dainty little boutiques, like a charming box of macaroons just waiting to be explored. J'adore. Situated very close to Sogo. I have to say, the best street style [where people make the most effort] in Hong Kong is definitely around this area. And with clothes like these, it is inevitable.

One of many delectable purses I saw. Love the boxy envelope shape, the Miu Miu inspired [slash blatantly copied] swallow print, the chain. Alas, with The Ibiza Fund pulling in most of my savings [saying it in third person makes it seem a sort of involuntary thing I have no control over, lols] I hesitated to buy it. The reason I included the aforementioned Sun Tzu quote was that often shopping can be a bit of a battle, with willpower being one's army and the sartorial urge to spend being the enemy. I know that once I've broken the 'seal' with my first purchase, I find it a lot easier to buy other things. Queue heavy artillery damage to my wallet. I can often get by just on window shopping though, the methadone to my heroin if you will. Although, it is a VERY slippery slope. Ah, the joys of retail therapy. Although, some may say it is my job to do this! [see below].

Boxy purse numéro deux: Coral orange, white and gold. Awesome color combination. P.s. Once again I've proven myself as an adept photographer. In my defense for using mobile photos, taking pictures is not really allowed so I had to be a bit sneaky [I live life on the edge].
Pink blazer: I'll admit that this shopping trip occurred a few weeks ago, before I managed to finally procure the dusty pink blazer I had so lusted after. Hence, errtime I saw one I took a snapshot. As above. With the suspiciously Gucci-esque logo print on the inside. Hmm I do shop in fine legal establishments, don't I? Continuing the completely narcissistic trend inherent to being a blogger, let me tell you what I else I liked: the purse. The gold framing is almost skeletal in its aesthetic reference. The gold leaf "fringe" is very bohemian meets...Grecian goddess? I doe low. But me likey. I feel now would be a good time to thank all those who say my blog is very well written...! Chortle.
Behold! Boxy purse numéro trois. [Boy does that sound pretty in French when I press the "listen" button on google translate] Very Celine, very Phoebe Philo. One of those almost reverse shoppers remorse. Sob. But honestly, how many of your bags do you use on a daily basis?



Boxy purse numéro à quatre. [Literally the nicest sounding number so far. See for yourself here. ] Again, totally unnecessary but oh so darling. [Darling: wouldn't that be a great name for a shop/ boutique?]

Random mood courtesy of slightly stressful week. Went back to China [most people distinguish between Hong Kong and mainland China thusly] again on Tuesday to sort out recent handbag orders. Rest of week spent dealing with follow up and to do lists such as:

• Confirm purchase orders and sales confirmations


• Reconfirm handbag details and list fabric, zippers, accessories, lining with suppliers


• Make sure chosen fabric is still in supply, that the check doesn't look too much like Burberry


• Etc

As I'm always on the hunt for the next great product [some may even call me the Indiana Jones of product WASSUP!] I try to justify any shopping trip as mere marketing and thusly as work. It is my duty, nay my obligation, to shop. Some may even call me selfless, yes. Although sometimes it does feel that I get paid to shop, which is, um kinda amazing.

Oh, and we got an email from a supplier called Winnie Pooh today. Chortle. Little things like that just add a twinkle to my day.

And so I conclude this rather boy-friendly shopping blog.
Au revoir
xxxx

Silk, Skull printed leather, and bowl cut swinging fashionistas

I had the fortune and slightly dubious distinction of having visited the fabric stock market not once, but five times in the last week. By the fifth visit I was dangerously close to feeling lachrymose about ever looking at cotton fabric again. I was at the fabric market to source various fabrics and accessories for various projects, including fleece, polyester, cotton and faux leather. I came across some bizarre fabrics and prints, like skull printed leather [which I imagine would only come in handy if one were a Gothic cowboy? I would love to present a vegan friend with a bag made from this print. Chortle. Jokes! Please don’t facebook unfriend me]. This area in Hong Kong is called Sham Shui Po, and the stores heaving with fabric/ beads/ lace/ ribbon are punctuated with wonderfully typical dirty dai pai dongs [cheap open air restaurants], almost ironically there to offset the potential glamorous fashion vibe. I say potential as it really isn't that glamorous. Most of the hidden part of the fashion industry rarely is. Butchers and other shop keepers sell all sorts of wares as well, adding a very raw feel to the place. I like the analogy of someone selling meat alongside fabric, both items waiting to be glamorized and moulded by their respective experts into something more delectable in a restaurant/ branded shop somewhere.

I did take the time to snap some photos from the area during the twilight hours of the second visit as the sunset gleamed off the bowl cuts of the harem pant wearing fashionistas who were skulking around. Alas, their bitchy glares and “I will cut you” demeanour made me hesitate to take more street style shots of them. Needless to say, my blatant enthusiasm at being there was highly unfashionable amongst their glamorous scowls and stony faces. I swear one almost hissed at me as I walked past.

There truly is something almost mathematical in how the fashion set dress, a sort of unspoken uniform illustrated by below equation:

Black (harem pants + brogues + pointy shoulder slouchy tux jacket + bowl cut) - smile = Fashionista

Black is almost mandatory in fashion as apparently it allows one to disguise the labels one is wearing quite well so as not to upset any designer/ colleague/ boss who works above you lest you are one of those interns/ lower level employees who can for some reason afford expensive designer wear. I had a friend who used to work at Chanel that would describe the bitchy passive-aggressive side comments cast her way if she, god forbid, wore a bit of color to the office. “You’re looking very…..summery, today” they would sneer slowly with the icy veneer of any girl who works in fashion, their eyes slowly making their way up and down the offensively happy color. Why is joy so often un[high]fashionable? Can one only be respected in any creative profession if one is mired in misery? Anna Wintour, please explain. [Stylistas aren’t always that bitchy and morose, and how I aspire to be one of them. Not sure if my curly 'fro would be good as a bowl cut though].

Note the lady butcher above WEARING PVC LEGGINGS AND HEELS. I saw her cutting and preparing meat for a customer. What a fashion-forward butcher[ess?]

Toodles.

xxx