29 March, 2015
"Yukie, why aren't you in heels?" is a seemingly recurring cite amongst friends since I moved back to Singapore. All the excessive walking in Tokyo was probably to blame, but personally I would concur that my recent dark hair transformation be the outline of a temporary genesis.
Ubiquitously inspired by black with a subtle dun, dark olive and denim, charged with attitude and a bit of hickory-smoked spunk in the grit too. My recent preference for 'boy-ish' quarters trails beyond clothes. Not to mention my idea of a perfect sunday is popping a bottle of irish stout, a couch, and a dramatic movie of some sort. Shielding my eyes to all and imagine myself as RDJ (Robert Downey Junior for those who have a life) wearing an iron suit with god-like charisma. The outrageous idea of scrubbing coffee on my skin to smell like Starbucks and going steady with BLT burgers for breakfast. In three weeks I see myself patting my beer belly or growing a moustache in my sleep.
Right next to a little black dress, every woman owns a favourite knitted top. As if Singapore's weather is not hot enough. But in our defence, cinemas are an ice box over here. I can foresee a gale of fifty shades of knit brewing in my closet given that I have become a full-blown movie junkie.