Photos source, source, source, source

I’ve searched everywhere - high-end boutiques, department stores, men’s section, kid’s section, bazaars, under a rock, beside the easter egg bunny… But the well-made (straw, white) fedora that my heart is longing for hasn’t been found. Why is that? You guys don’t know me, but I’m extremely extremely resourceful meaning, it may be true that I may even have searched under a rock… But I haven’t seen the likes of this one (from urban outfitters) anywhere here in 90°. Multiply stores, anyone?

Photo Circa 2006

I’ve shared my secret here. I’ve chosen to take the road-less-traveled and it’s not without the consequences. As many of you don’t know, I quit my job 5 days ago to pursue a lifelong dream of working in the fashion industry. What career? I don’t know, yet. For the longest time I’ve tried to please other people - loved ones and strangers alike. But I’ve grown tired of it. I’ve finally come to my senses. It’s time to find myself and the true meaning of this thing called life. Others want to become actresses, beauty queens, presidents, writers, makeup artists, photographers, sculptors, housewives, princesses, soldiers, mothers, wives, etc. I, on the other hand, want to live my life in fashion. I live, breathe, speak fashion (clothing) 24/7. I even dream of it. My subconscious just keeps hoping that one day I’ll leave all else and runaway to marry fashion. I always dreamed that it’s my destiny, but the ruffles and lace of life have hindered me from seeing that. Finally, I’ve resorted to practicality, but my soul weakened, withered, and when it was about to die, I knew I had to give this dream a chance. What if I never make it? What if I never become that “someone” in fashion locally or internationally or whatever? At the very least, when I’m in my death bed I can look back and say that I tried. I don’t want to live a life full of regrets, full of “I wish I did this, I wish I tried that… now I’m dying and it’s too late, my life is a waste.” When I’m a granny I want to say to my grandkids “been there, done that” and they’ll be proud to have a grandma who’s lived her life to the fullest or at the very least tried.

Photo from 2006. I wanted to become a fashion stylist+makeup artist then. Now, I still want to style, but I’ll go where life takes me. No more forcing of dreams for me.

Doesn’t it make you feel sad when you’re faced with the fact that you have to part with something you’re madly in love with? I mean take for instance this vintage embroidered 60s shift.  It was love at first site and it was expensive love!, but hey it’s still with me. I find it difficult to part with it even if I may never get to wear it. It’s sad that it was made for somebody else’s God-given body. It’s sad that it’s constructed in a way, that isn’t meant for me. Size small and fits narrow in the shoulders (why oh why do I have broad shoulders to begin with?). I guess I should sell it for someone else to get the life out of it.

Spotted! Ruffle mini skirt of my dreams over at Trinoma’s Landmark yesterday, of all places. There were about 3 versions that actually only differentiated in color - red, green, and blue ones. But really those are the only dominant colors in the skirt’s print. I didn’t buy one even if I was helplessly under its spell because I was with a more rational fellow in the person of le boyfriend. Plus, I am currently ridiculously plump, (read: gained so much weight), and the sizes they carried ranged from dwarf to kiddie sizes which doesn’t really foster healthy shopping habits for average-sized women. Don’t you just love how Rumi chicly channeled one of the Luella Bartley models?