Even More Things The Same Size As Coolio

March 20, 2014, 4:49 pm

≪ Previous: What's In My Bag; Taupe and Mint.

A more thorough update on a post I hurriedly slapped together on my blog in the Malaysia Airlines Golden Lounge minutes before being called for boarding. I've been awake since ridiculous o' clock, I meant to be in bed by midnight to wake up for my morning hospital appointment but I couldn't sleep till much later. I then woke up at dawn, walking around in a daze, wondering if I'm going to fall sick later. Why is it that even from six thousand miles and eight time zones away some things just persist in following you, like a poltergeist?

To borrow a line from Kristoff---Hamsters are better than people, Coolio don't you think I'm right?

I miss my furbaby. Is it dark that I'm planning what to do with him once he dies? I'm thinking of commissioning one of my favourite artists Polly Morgan to immortalise him in a stunning piece of taxidermy art. Or maybe just have him stuffed, dyed yellow, and made up to look like Pikachu.

Diana:"Don't turn him into Pikachu! Coolio's going to look down at his body from heaven and think 'I wasn't good enough for her the way I was. She doesn't love me for me'."

Me: "Pikachu, though!"

Nothing like a series of 'Things The Same Size As Coolio' pictures to approximate how good he'd look as a work of art.

Ham -ès 'Collier de Ham'

Installation piece, 2014, Jasiminne Yip.

Ham-ès! Collier de Ham! I laughed myself into hysterics for ages after coming up with that, thinking myself the forefront of sophisticated wit. This kind of 'syiok sendiri' dorkiness is probably why nobody loves me. 'Yes I'm alone, but I'm alone aaaand free! Just stay away and you'll be safe from me!' *belts like Elsa*

Things The Same Size As Coolio 24: Hermès Collier de Chien

I forgot to take off the plastic...not a good look.

Things The Same Size As Coolio 23: Saint Laurent ring box

He actually fits in the box perfectly when he's sitting down.

Things The Same Size As Coolio 22: Tesco Everday Value vitamins

Someone: "It's worrying that you have a mouse among your vitamins."

Me: "Shouldn't you mean it's more worrying that my vitamins are Tesco value?"

Things The Same Size As Coolio 21: Jaguar XJS figurine

I miss my car.

Things The Same Size As Coolio 20: a sea shell

Things The Same Size As Coolio 19: Mulberry Margaret coin purse

Things The Same Size As Coolio 18: Perrier Jouet champagne glass

My favourite glasses. Probably the only good thing to come out of...nevermind.

Things The Same Size As Coolio 17: Tom Ford Champaca Absolute Private Blend

Bid and won a set of four of these parfums during an breast cancer charity dinner but haven't really got around to using them. Chanel Cuir de Russie will always be the one.

I have to run and go get ready for the hospital. Which isn't terrible, Prince Court is really nice and I always get to buy Disney Princess plasters in their pharmacy. I also get to see Nana 小妹妹 so I'm happy. In the midst of adversity it's always good to think of the things one can look forward to. Gratitude is the key, and a shining torch of light in a tunnel of darkness.

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Leica come home.

March 22, 2014, 10:35 am

≫ Next: Stressed But Well Dressed

≪ Previous: Even More Things The Same Size As Coolio

My Leica was stolen from me.

The last picture I have of it. It also has a black lens cover.

I say stolen, it's possible that I've lost it by dropping it, but as far as Kuala Lumpur is concerned if anybody finds anything of value then there is no chance of it being recovered. Ever. I'm sure this is true of many other big cities. But having being raised to think like a Malaysian ie. to fear the worst in strangers (carjackings, rapes, abduction, snatch theft) I'm predisposed to write off anything missing in K.L as forever lost at sea.

This is how it transpired...

Only a few hours ago (Saturday evening) I was at Barbecue Garden, Life Centre for Nuffnang's 007 themed birthday party. I had a really nice time despite melting into a puddle of my own sweat thanks to the heat. I alternated dabbing at my neck with glasses of cold water to standing in front of the outdoor air-conditioners with my arms thrown back sighing "Jack, I'm flying, I'm flying!" because I really am not elegant at all, especially when in tropical climates and wearing a black dress with lace sleeves all the way up to my neck.

It was really nice spending time with Nana, chatting with Daphne, and so lovely to catch up with Malaysians that I follow on social media and feel emotionally invested in even though our communication is really nothing more than the odd comment on Instagram or Twitter. Familiar faces lah! Even though I don't even speak to these people I secretly cheer them on, quietly wish them strength, feel happy when they pop up on my feed. That's normal right?

Toward the end of the night Nana, Daph, and a couple of her friends went outside Barbecue Garden to take outfit of the day photos against the conveniently photogenic white walls. I call this part of the outing 'Nuffnang's Next Top Model', seriously, I'm so tempted to grade them on their walks, their poses, their expressions. Daph very kindly helped me take photos of myself with my camera.

All night my camera was slung on my shoulder because there was just no way it would fit in my clutch. I went back into BBQ Garden to get five goody bags for everyone. I distinctly remembered shoving my asthma inhaler and Leica into my goody bag. I said goodnight and goodbye to everyone, went downstairs to pay the valet to fetch my car.

This is when it happened.

So the valet insisted I follow him to the back of the building for my car because it wasn't parked with all the others in front of Life Centre entrance. I was a bit annoyed, the whole point of paying a valet to park and bring your car to you is so that one doesn't have to walk to the frankly unsafe basement car park at night. Women get assaulted all the time in car parks in broad daylight never mind in the evening. Also---and I'm not ashamed to say this---I was suspicious and wary that something dangerous could happen, after all it was nearly midnight, the back of the building was almost deserted. Neither was I terribly assured about the way the valet kept looking over his shoulder as though to see if I would follow him into the basement even after I firmly insisted on waiting at a cafe. I was probably just being paranoid but unfortunately this is the situation in Malaysia, even women who are vigilant sadly become victims of crime. My father scolded me for even following the valet, he said that next time a valet tells me to go anywhere with them I am to call him and he'll speak to them personally. I love you dad.

Being so on my guard for any untoward behaviour I wasn't exactly focusing on the contents of my goody bag.

My camera might have fallen out of the goody bag, it was slung over my shoulder and was bobbing underneath my arm and sometimes across my back. Someone could have spotted the strap hanging out of the bag and deftly fished it out. There were a few people lingering about the back of the building but I think it's unlikely because I was in paranoid Malaysian mode, anybody so much as come close to me and I would have roundhouse kicked them in the face.

I waited in a cafe at the back of the building for my car, and when I saw it emerge I was absolutely sure I took everything I had with me. If I had taken my camera out of the goody bag I would have noticed and put it back in. I always check that I have my valuables with me before I get up and go. I'm the person who stands in front of her car and locks it three times even while walking away, just to be sure.

The valet finally brought my car round, and the moment I got in the first thing I did (after locking the doors, this is K.L after all) was tip the contents of my bags onto the passenger seat to check if I had everything. I just had a feeling. That's when I noticed my Leica was missing. I checked under the car seats, the side pockets, and then I quickly called Nana. I asked her if my camera was in any of their bags, she checked all three of her friends' goody bags and purses and came up with nothing. I went back up to Barbecue Garden, asked everyone again, left a contact number with the restaurant even though I'm sure I didn't lose it there. Audrey kindly suggested making an announcement asking if anyone had seen it but I knew there was no point, I'd last had it when taking photos outside.

Everyone was really helpful, the bar staff and manager of BBQ Garden, the valet people who let me park again for free while I searched the bar, Nana who apologised profusely even though it wasn't her fault, Daphne who helped Nana and I search my car for my Leica. But still, no show.

The whole time I drove home I was trembling with hopelessness.

I am an optimistic person to the point of being saccharinely teeth-grinding, but even so I just knew. That the odds of me getting my Leica back were next to none.

And then I was furious. At myself for letting this happen, at whoever who took it intentionally (if they did), and at whoever who did/does find it and chose/chooses not to hand it over to lost and found.

I went back to the cafe and the staff I spoke to said, "A Leica? You're never getting it back."

My parents said the same.

I refuse to believe it because I cannot fathom how anyone can bring themselves to steal but even so a part of me knows it'd be a bloody miracle if I do get my camera back.

There's no words to describe how angry, upset, and shaken I feel.

More than the fact that it's a Leica and that it's a limited edition (with missing, mismatching parts and damage to the body, good luck trying to sell it you thieves, it's probably not even worth a tenth of what I paid for it) but for what the camera meant to me. This Leica has taken almost all of the photos on this blog over the last 2 years. It has seen so much history, so much drama, so many stories that it should have its own TV show. It's been there with me through so much that it feels like a part of me. Losing it isn't about how much it will cost me to buy another one. It's like losing an arm. It's irreplaceable.

Thank God there aren't any naughty photos on there. Just not terribly flattering ones of me and my fat stomach bulging unattractively in my dress (shouldn't have binged on nasi lemak today). Whoever was hoping for any vaguely interesting photos on there are going to be disappointed. And probably scarred for life at seeing my hideousness in all its unphotoshopped glory.

To the thief, if indeed they did steal it, I hope the sight of my food baby makes your eyes bleed, burns into your retinas, and blinds you leaving the last image you ever saw the one of my nasi lemak straining against my too-tight dress.

To the thief, I hope your God (although I doubt you have one) ruins all your selfies and pictures by sending rabid vampire bats to photobomb you EVERYTIME you use a camera. Not just my Leica. But every camera you touch. Even your phone. Especially your phone. Instagram? Try the hashtag #feralvampirebatbitmynose.

I'm still holding out for the hope that someone accidentally took my camera by mistake or that I dropped it and someone finds it. That they'd do the right thing and hand it in...to who/where exactly, I don't know. For it to make the journey from floor to lost & found or police (ha!) back to my hands is nothing short of an act of divine intervention. And if I AM to be granted an act of merciful divine intervention then give it instead to MH370. Allow my camera, just let everyone on board be safe and sitting on an island somewhere eating fruit waiting to be rescued.

If I'm being perfectly honest I know I'm not getting my Leica back.

This is why I've written the longest post I've ever written.

I feel like I've lost a good friend. A part of myself even.

Needless to say if somebody DOES find it, I will pay a reward for its safe return. Why? Because I care about my things beyond what the cost or what I can sell them for. Some things you just can't put a price on.

I'm not feeling terribly happy or optimistic right now. I'm hoping that I'll wake up, someone will say Hey! We've got your camera! and this whole blog post would have been an embarrassing waste of time.

I have had the worst week ever since I returned to K.L.

I just can't wait for it to be over.

Leica come home. I miss you.

Before everything went wrong. Ancient ASOS dress from my goth days / Tresor Paris bullet necklace / hair by Leo at Hair Quarters, Solaris. I was trying to channel Severine from Skyfall (my favourite Bond femme fatale look).

↧

Stressed But Well Dressed

March 23, 2014, 5:00 pm

≫ Next: Stylo Fashion Grand Prix 2014 Day 1 / HIAO PO MODE, ON!

≪ Previous: Leica come home.

Has it only been four days since I arrived in Kuala Lumpur?

Between then and now I feel like an eternity has spanned, or rather, the distress and trials of the past week have borne on my shoulders, weighing me down like the proverbial celestial sphere condemned to Atlas.

Today is a new day and a new week. I'm restoring to factory settings, wiping all the bugs from and clearing all the bad memories from my hard drive. Now begins a busy week packed with social events---Malaysian Grand Prix, F1 parties, Zouk 10 year anniversary, a Hennessey X.O meet and greet, Mercedes-Benz Stylo Grand Prix (aka F1 fashion week), and a very exciting meeting with one of my favourite glossy magazines.

Here's to finishing with a flourish the last week of March. March on.

It's no exaggeration when I say that my zeitgeist de semaine is 'Stressed But Well Dressed'.

Zara 'Stressed but well dressed' clutch / Saint Laurent Arty ring / Mango mint skinnies / House of Eight mesh top / Chanel'Brick' inspired iPhone case from a little stall in Times Square / Gucci heels / Chanel nail vernis '559 Frenzy'

There's nothing so soothing for the nerves as pastel colours.

From these pictures it is evident that I am in desperate need of---

a) the perfect white heels to compliment all my pastels and Spring wardrobe

b) a steam cleaner because every crease and wrinkle I go over with an iron is minutes of my life I will never get back.

c) a dye job. My once jet-black hair has faded from bleach abuse and sun damage. In 2012 I bleached my hair a heroic six times in six months. Since then my hair has never quite been the same.

That two tone hair, oh my God, I can't deal with it.

I swear it's not nearly as bad in person, you can barely tell, but under the unforgiving tropical light all things are magnified.

Thank you Nana xiao mei mei for patiently taking hundreds of photos for me until we got the right ones. Yes, hundreds. Asians at work haha. I am so happy to have a little sister who is every bit the emotional, vain, big-hearted, and loving Leo that I am. Nana! Please remember and take heed of my advice. This is the right time, I know you can do it. I'm looking forward to seeing much much much more of you, if you know what I mean. So...be brave! Jia you!

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Stylo Fashion Grand Prix 2014 Day 1 / HIAO PO MODE, ON!

March 25, 2014, 5:00 pm

≫ Next: A day in my Posh, Broke, & Bored life / K.L Edition

≪ Previous: Stressed But Well Dressed

Mercedes-Benz Stylo Fashion Grand Prix (or as I prefer to call it, 'F1 Fashion Week') opened on Monday with 'A Stylish Slumber Featuring Men and...more Men'.

Well, this certainly went some way toward picking up my mood and banishing the blues.

All the repressed and sexually-frustrated Datins and hiao pos (including yours truly) of K.L approve.

The dress code and theme du nuit was sleepwear. It was quite amusing seeing some guests show up in nighties, teddies, and little silk slips (there is a very thin line between provocative and trashy. Even in the dark there's no mistaking polyester for silk). As I tend to sleep naked even in winter, adhering to the dress code would be impossible less I get arrested for indecent exposure. I could have worn my next favourite pyjamas, tapi baju tidur saya semua berlubang dan dicemar air liur. So...no.

I kept it understated in black with gold accents. The whole ensemble was simple and demure, like what mummy always looks like when she heads straight from the boardroom to her social events. Saya menyamar sebagai mak saya.

Louis Vuitton dress / Louis Vuitton Capucines / Hermes enamel bracelet / Ted Baker heels

I also touched up my hair colour at home with two boxes of Liese's 'black tea brown'but I just can't get a perfect coverage. So much for trying to be low maintenance, I should just embrace who I am and accept that not everyone is born equal.

Waiting for the show to start, with Nana my little sister and fellow lush.

The show was nearly two hours late...the whole time I was checking my watch going 'Haiyo, faster lah! I want to go home and wash my face...this aunty old already lah!'. Seriously. Stylo was taking its sweet time. For an F1 themed fashion show it certainly wasn't racing nor raring to go.

But at least I was entertained by the sight of Kai Schlickum, sat right in front of me wearing a nightcap to match his pyjamas.

Exactly a year ago I blogged about how I stared at him from the front row across me. Now this year I get a little closer and literally stare at his ball (off his cap) dangling in front of my face. Perhaps next year I'll move one row up next to him. Haha.

Dato' Nancy Yeoh looking lush, as every woman should.

I forgot the DJ's name but I liked her pyjamas.

Finally, the show started. The catwalk spanned both upstairs and downstairs at Poppy Garden, with the models making their way from backstage (upstairs), past a makeshift runway, down the treacherous stairs to the stage where we sat, and back up again. A trek most perilous.

Joe Chia sent out slouchy, deconstructed, and boxy shapes that I like to call 'boys in leather skirts'.

Next was Tom Abang Saufi. All the looks styled by my little brother from another mother Arran. He pulled together all the looks on all eight models in under an hour. So proud of you, xiao didi!

Followed by Kinslager's dapper young men in colourful suits.

Don't they all look like Disney princes? The model in yellow on the right looks so much like Prince Naveen! Men should wear colour blocking suits as casual wear all the time. Ban jeans, please, or heaven forbid track suit bottoms.

So far, so cute...but wait!

Here comes the eye candy!

Quarter Homme whips up a frenzy with the ladies, sending models in their skimpies down the runway. Grown women screamed, blushed, cheered, and shrieked as dangerously hard bodies and tight pants glided past them. From the way some of them were squealing, you'd think they'd never had groins and glistening abs thrust in their face.

Hiao po mode, ON!

My personal favourite model, I love him for holding that pillow and keeping a straight face!

Oh hai.

Wah air liur meleleh.

Check out Mr Malaysia David Lian in the background, all cheekbones, smouldering glare, and all!

For this wonderful display we have Quarter Homme to thank for. I am suddenly very interested in men's underwear.

I love with when erotic imagery associated with sexy women (as insisted by and directed by the male gaze, those patriarchal dictators) is subverted by applying it to men. It makes the chauvinists uncomfortable because their vision takes on homoerotic (in their minds) tones, when really it's all just a bit of fun for everyone! Just let it go, let it gooooo. From the delighted shrieks from the audience I gather the women loved it. I torn between hysterics and concern for the pillows.

Everybody calmed down? Good. Hello again David (second from right). This photo is for you Kate.

All the designers and their models take a bow.

With Arran whose stock naik like crazy...seriously! I think styling is good for him, but London will be even better. Hehehe. My fellow hiao po. Love you!

Thanks for the eye candy Stylo!

↧

A day in my Posh, Broke, & Bored life / K.L Edition

March 28, 2014, 1:02 am

≫ Next: Don't call it quits. Fight to bridge The Gap.

≪ Previous: Stylo Fashion Grand Prix 2014 Day 1 / HIAO PO MODE, ON!

Transparency is a wonderful thing. So is context. My blog posts and Instagram pictures are but mere snippets chosen from days that are mostly mundane. These carefully selected moments are curated to form a gallery of images that alludes to an otherwise photogenic, seemingly picture perfect life when in reality my days are really quite boring.

My makeshift workstation because my study table is pilled with storage boxes and every surface of my dressing table is cluttered with junk.

Isn't that typical with social media envy? We forget that people post the best parts of their days, say 1% of what happens to them, but whenever we feel down about ourselves we go on Facebook to compare our disappointments against our friends' pictures of their holiday, acquaintances' latest acquisitions, your favourite Instagram 'celebrity's' artfully composed glass of champagne held up high against the city skyline with the sun setting just above it. In reality that last scene was probably the only glass they've allowed themselves to drink all week because they desperately want to lose five kilos, they probably sat around waiting a good ten minutes before the sunset for the right moment to take that photo, and it took about ten snaps to get the right shot, of which they edited furiously with twelve different apps on their phone so that they could post it to Instagram right away and show everyone what a great time, what a great life they're having...instead of just having it and living it there and then, in the moment.

So yes, it's good to put things in context. All that glitters is not gold. I'm not saying it's a furiously polished turd, I'm just saying it might be gold-plated but someone has conveniently failed to mention so.

With that in mind I thought I'd do a post about a day in my life, in its entirety. Without omitting the mundane parts nor seeking to big up the bits for the benefit of an 'audience', not that I even have one. This is me, keeping it real.

This is the Kuala Lumpur edition. Do bear in mind that the car I drive isn't actually mine, it belongs to my mother. I get to have it when I'm in K.L because she's decided that it's much easier to just use the driver and the company car.

Thursday, 27 March 2014

8:00 am

I do my daily morning sit ups, all ten of them. I'd do more but there's only so many times you can hit the snooze button.

9:00 am

Why is there broken glass on the floor? Oh right, I knocked over my bedside table glass of water before I went to sleep. Contemplated wiping it up but then I decided that evaporation will take care of it. Science!

Wow my eyebrows are itchy. They must be peeling from the eyebrow embroidery (to non-Asians, that's a sort of semi permanent tattoo) I did yesterday. Still, a few day's itchiness is a worthy price to pay for waking up with perfect brows. Better put some cream on them.

I'm painting on my face and styling my hair to last an entire day. I have an event in the morning in Mont Kiara, a lunch in K.L, followed by an interview with Malaysia Tatler for an upcoming feature staring my mum and I, a fashion show at Pavillion, and finally a Stylo Fashion Grand Prix fashion show in the city. I throw some extra shoes, clothes, and accessories together in a bag to leave in the car for changing looks throughout the day.

My hair just doesn't look the way it does when Leo styles it! This is the thing about gaining some standards, once you have tasted perfection you can never settle for less. Sigh. I'll have to make do with what I can.

10:00 am

I leave for Solaris Dutamas, and Shazam at least five songs along the way. In light of the MH370 tragedy, the local radio stations have been much more sedate. Irritating and overly autotuned pop songs have been replaced with ballads and classics. Songs about healing, strength, acceptance, and love. The whole country is in mourning. I usually can't stand local radio (with the exception of BFM, Lite FM, Mix, and my guilty pleasure Kenangan) but I have nothing but admiration for their show of support and sensitivity.

10:15 am

Why is there so much traffic all over Mont Kiara?! This is taking forever. Contemplate painting my nails in the car and hanging one hand at a time out the window to try. Decide against it, the pollution will probably kill me.

10:30 am

Finally make it to Nathalie's Gourmet Studio for the Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014 pre event.

Hennessey X.O flew Chef Viet Pham down to Malaysia from America for this year's Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014 in Danga Bay, Johor Baru. For the pre-event, selected guests were invited to lunch with him with a amuse bouche prepared with a surprise 'Mystery Box' ingredient that we all voted for.

I'm assisting Chef!

I helped made this, it's a prawn and salsa dish...can you guess the surprise ingredient?

With Chef and his assembled band of Avengers.

12:30 pm

I can't stay for lunch, I have to dash to Shangri-La in K.L for lunch.

I get a phone call "Where are you?""I'm on the way, I'll be there for one!""Madam lunch is at half twelve!""Ohhhhhhh." Well I guess I'll be punctual for 'Malaysian time'.

1:00 pm

Where on earth am I?

Where are you taking me, Waze?!

Waze is hit and miss for me. Either it gets me there exactly on time, through clever shortcuts and surprising routes, or it's way off and I drive in a huge circle before ending up right where I started.

The one good thing about leaving my directions to Waze is that sometimes it takes me down scenic routes I would never consider.

It also drains about 40% of my iPhone battery per journey and my crappy car doesn't have a USB charger. Never mind! Powerbank to the rescue. Wait...'device not compatible with iPhone'? I've been using it for years, what's changed? Oh God, it's this cheap knockoff iPhone cable from China I bought for RM10 (£2) isn't it?!

This is why you should never, ever, buy bootlegs made on the cheap in some dubious factory in China. You get what you pay for...and at some point you will pay for your cheapness!

Oh my God if my phone dies on me before lunch I will have officially failed at life.

I see the Twin Towers! I'm getting close.

Ok, back on track.

1:30 pm

I finally make it to Shangri-La. Lunch is at LaFite, and in our usual private dining room.

I get a Whatsapp message from Malaysia Tatler saying that they're going to push the interview to next week, the same day as the photoshoot. Pheeeeew. I haven't had time to look at the questions and now I've been saved. I feel like a kid who didn't study for the test and is dreading going to school only to find that the teacher has taken ill, test has been postponed! I am especially descriptive because of first hand experience, that is the story of my primary education years.

Lunch at LaFite is typically a quiet, discreet, and serene affair. The standards have slipped a little but the food is still good.

Hi mummy!

Polished off two courses (both topped with foie gras that I just can't eat anymore) and cake with this, the most unhealthy fruit salad ever.

2:45 pm

Heading to Starhill Gallery for Datuk Rahmajan Khan's birthday tea.

Mummy orchestrates a coup of military precision; I am to follow her in the company car to Starhill Gallery. She had someone send my car to Times Square, waiting for me. After tea my driver will send her back to work and then drive me up to my car where someone would wait with my keys, transfer my things from the company car to my car, and then I'll carry on with my day using my car. All of that just so I can keep her company for a fifteen minute journey, but it'll be worth every minute. Time with family is precious and one should cherish every blessed second of it.

That's nothing, when my mum makes plans for the day she'll have a sheet typed up with an itinerary. It'll read something like 10:30 - Driver to pick up, transfer from home to destination. 11:00 - 12:00 - Brunch etc. and at the bottom 'please confirm and revert ASAP' followed by her signature, haha.

3:00 pm

Arrive at Starhill Gallery, one of my favourite places in K.L because of it's close proximity to my usual hangout spots. Walking distance to Sephora, Pavillion, and in the same building as J.W Marriott. Is it just me or has the temperature in K.L risen dramatically in the past year?! What is going on?

Christian Dior hosted a little tea party for Datuk Rahmajan Khan's birthday.

And closed the boutique so that we could play dress up, have 'girl time', and eat cakes at our leisure.

3:30 pm

The Dior Lady limited edition with badges! I persuaded mummy to get this one, but in a larger size because it's more functional. I'm ever so practical.

I have such a sweet and generous mother. She saw me lusting over a weekend bag and sneakily bought it for me! I didn't even realise until the staff asked me how I'd like it wrapped.

I didn't even want it that much! But thank you mummy, you're too nice to me!

5:00 pm

After the big car switcheroo, I head home to drop off my things and do some work before heading out again for tonight's fashion shows.

My room is a clutter magnet. I need to stop viewing space as something to be filled with things.

I look at the Malaysia Tatler interview questions, answer as many emails as I can and do some work but somehow two hours isn't enough. I forget to get changed or to touch up my hair, which has unravelled into a limp, frizzy, mess heavy with humidity.

7:00 pm

Head back into the city.

I wonder if I will get arrested for public indecency if I change my dress in the car? My car is technically private property, so I can't get nabbed for indecent exposure can I? I pose this question on Facebook and apparently yes, you can change in your car in possibly full view of the public, just as long as you don't do it near a school. Or a place of religious/spiritual worship. Or outside a police station.

7:30 pm

Oh my God rush hour traffic is the worst. And it's raining. Confirm jam one. Die liao.

Why isn't anything moving?

The traffic lights just don't change and when they do they last about five seconds. Arran and I are whatsapping at red lights (which is 95% of the time) our fury at everything; the traffic, the city, the pedestrians. Our messages gets increasingly incoherent and expletive ridden.

8:00 pm

It's been half an hour and I've only advanced 200 feet?!

Waaaah the pedestrians in K.L DAMN SETAN BETUL. Super kurang ajar can die dot com.

Uncle, cannot see red light ah?! Why you walk right in front of my car, lei yao sei ah?! Come I help you fulfil your wish!

Seriously as it is the traffic only moves once every 2 minutes for a total of five seconds and you pick THAT VERY MOMENT to jaywalk and block my way?

Hello Aunty! Those five seconds it takes for you to drag your fat self across my path could make all the difference between me missing the green light! And it does!

And I hate it when they illegally cross during my green light, walk right across my car and expect me to brake to avoid hitting them, and then they put out their palm to me as if to say stop. So patronising! Please ah, you know you're doing something illegal and you dare to wave your palm about like you're a traffic cop? Summore while strolling and taking their sweet time, if you're going to hold up traffic during rush hour because you just can't wait for my red light then at least have the courtesy to hurry up.

Waaaah damn bedebah sial I really CANNOT!

Arran: "Just bang sajalah!"

Me: "Cannot, kesian my car, nanti ada satu lebam kat logo Mercedes."

8:15 pm

I finally make it to Pavillion. My God sweat until ketiak basah.

No photos of myself because by then I was an angry mess. I was hoping I would go unnoticed and none would spot me but dammit, Nadine spotted me and asked on Instagram 'Is that you I see?' I've been rumbled!

8:30 pm

The first showcase of Pavillion Pitstop kicks off with a performance from the legendary Salamiah Hassan and her daughter Atilia.

Atilia's petite, slim figure is perfection. She looked amazing and has a gorgeous face and incredible voice to match, good for her! She and her mummy Salamiah are so adorable together! The way she says to her daughter 'Go, baby!' during duets aaaaah it's so cute I can't handle it! I love mother and daughter teams. People think that girls are usually spoilt by their fathers, but in my case it's my mother and I think that makes more sense, no?

Spring/summer collections from Repetto, Diane von Furstenberg, and Karen Millen.

9:00 pm

Taking outfit of the day photos.

Wah ni kan wo de xiao didi de hiao po mesh trousers. Must show off the goodies. Lelong lelong, come and see, mari mari, very nice one!

9:15 pm

"Nana, are you going to Stylo?"

"No wor! No mood."

Arran and I can't decide whether we want to go to Stylo. Is it worth the hassle? I'm not a huge fan of the designers showing today, and the thought of parking in that dirt lot behind Poppy Garden and walking the distance on the high-heel swallowing 'tarmac popcorn' pavement of the city is too much to bear. Damnit, why did Stylo have to be held somewhere without indoor parking or a valet service? Why can't DBKL pave the roads smoothly like in London? Why can't I walk in high heels?

Let's mull it over at Ichiban Boshi.

Bad decision.

Worse Japanese food ever. The salmon is suspiciously pale, like bleached carrots (if there's such a thing), the chuka wakame is limp and uninspired, the chuka idako is rubbery, the sauce thick and gloomy like cheap tinned tomatoes. Even the agedashi tofu is too salty.

I've decided not to go to Stylo after all. Arran is, he's going to drive past and see if it looks happening and worth his time. Half an hour later I get a text from him "Waaaah got hot ang moh! I'm going in!" Hahahaha oh to be young and to be free.

10:00 pm

I walk to the autopay machine to pay my parking fee and leave when I realise that the only small change I have is a RM5 note. Everything else is in denominations of hundreds and the machines don't take anything over RM20. Oh no all the shops are closed or closing, and none of them are going to break a hundred, don't tell me I have to walk out of Pavillion, look for a 7-11, and walk back to the carpark? In heels?!

Please please please let my parking fee be RM5.

I put in my parking ticket.

I hold my breath.

RM8.

NOOOOOOO!!!!

Luckily the young man and his girlfriend next to me sees my predicament. He comes over and pays the remaining RM3 of my fare.

"Oh my God thank you thank you thank you you just saved me a long walk to 7-11!"

"No problem. My name is Adrix. Here, this is my business card."

And then he says "For a loan please consider RHB!"

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!! Ok I'll open an account and bank in RM3!

I burst out laughing at his smoothness, tell him he's a great walking advertisement and a credit to his bank, and wish him and his girlfriend a good night.

Ahahahaha I cannot, this is just too good.

11:00 pm

I finally get home and tell my mum about the anecdote with walking billboard man.

She says "Oh, I'm having lunch with the chairman (or CEO?) of RHB tomorrow, I'll tell him this story, it'll make him smile!"

Me "Please do, and tell him that Adrix is an asset to the company!"

Mummy took a photo of his card for reference, so Adrix if you get a raise or promotion you know who to send flowers to. Haha!

12:00 am

I chat with people back in London, this is the only time I can catch them because of the time difference and our schedules.

It gets a bit saucy because it's late at night for me, if you know what I mean.

How is it already two in the morning? I have to be up in six hours!

And it starts all over again!

Goodnight cruel world I'll see you in the morning.

↧

Don't call it quits. Fight to bridge The Gap.

March 1, 2014, 5:51 pm

≫ Next: D is for Dior

≪ Previous: A day in my Posh, Broke, & Bored life / K.L Edition

Perhaps if I had realised this before graduating I would have been spared years of despair, dented self-esteem, insecurity, and some serious existential narcissism.

One in the morning. It's 'reflection time', the last hour (two hours, if I can afford the luxury) of the day spent summarising my thoughts and the day's events, ironing out what I can and sketching a rough outline of the next day's plan of battle. I'm surprised, really, at how relatively ambitious and resolutely determined I am to be organised these days especially compared to when I first graduated from CSM, the following three years of which I spent in a post-graduation slump. Well...not slump, per se, but rather a disjointed state of mind, trepidation about what I was going to do next, the increasingly clear reality that I was not nearly as special, talented, or extraordinary as I have been allowed to believe I am. I shan't even begin to talk about how my generation (the millennials that everybody loves to tear apart) are disillusioned because they've been build up to think that they deserve success and then become unhappy when they realise that the rest of the world doesn't quite see them as the 'special snowflakes' they are.

Many of my class felt the same. Some couldn't handle it. Those who were deflated by ambitions not immediately fulfilled but were lucky enough to stay in the country merely found work elsewhere in unrelated industries (some happily thrived, some dragged their feet along, some were desperately miserable). The less fortunate whose ran out of their right to remain in the UK slumped back home, tails between their legs, to face the shame of not fulfilling their dreams straight out of graduation.

I was lucky, I managed to stay on in London, even now my situation although much more certain than ever seems a little more precarious than I would like. However it speaks volumes of my privilege (for which I am immeasurably grateful for) that for a time one of my biggest worries was the disparity between the quality of my work and my vision. Which is exactly the issue addressed by 'The Gap'.

It's a must watch for any creative who has ever doubted themselves, especially during 'The Gap', the early years where one's skills are not yet on par with one's killer taste. Taken from an interview with Ira Glass, Frohlocke used his language to tell Glass's message and made a film to remind everyone everywhere to not be disappointed, to not give up, and to keep working at it.

"Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap."

"For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit"

"And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work...It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions...You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”

The film is beautifully shot and animated. I've taken screenshots of almost every scene because it is just a visual delight, from the way it's framed, animated, filmed...a part of me wants to just paste every screenshot in this entry but I shan't ruin it for you. Just do yourself a favour and watch the film. It won't take long, it's only 2 minutes and will quite possibly change your life. Or at the very least reignite the fire under your ass.

THE GAP by Ira Glass from frohlocke on Vimeo.

TL;DR: Just keep swimming, do lots of work, don't give up, your skills will catch up with your ambitions.

People say all the time that my art is awful, my drawings are subpar (well, not to my face anyway, that's how cowards work) and they are right. But it won't always be that way, because I refuse to quit. So thank you critics, thank you Ira Glass, thank you Frohlocke for reminding me that the only way to not be bitter and miserable is to, well, power on until one has no reason to be.

I'm happy to announce my latest project, an illustration series I'm working on for Tresor Paris for an upcoming launch of their new range of watches.

A year ago, heck, a few months ago I was absolutely sure that I couldn't draw still lives let alone accessories. And here I am, not only drawing four of their new watches (and people have told me they actually do look like watches! Success) but trying my hand at graphic design. I won't lie, I know nothing about designing cards but that's not going to stop me from trying!

People have also said that I can't blog to save my life, that I should just call it quits and be Posh, Broke, & Bored offline. Thank goodness I didn't listen to them. And thank goodness Nokia UK didn't either.

They put my face on a mug!

I am literally a mug. Hahaha.

I'm looking forward to spending next weekend with Nokia UK in the countryside for an event. I searched the whole house for my Emilio Pucci wellies before realising I threw them out ages ago. I'm just going to wear my Stuart Weitzmann 5050s and pray it doesn't rain.

But even if it does rain, what is the worse that can happen? Adversity is nothing to the brave, the strong, and the determined.

Never give up. Never quit. The greatest joy is doing what others say you cannot do. Second only to eventually achieving everything you've always knew you would.

x

↧

D is for Dior

March 30, 2014, 4:00 pm

≫ Next: Stylo Fashion Grand Prix 2014 Day 5 / Who is Gatsby?

≪ Previous: Don't call it quits. Fight to bridge The Gap.

D is for Dior, Datins, and Datuk Rahmahjan. All of whom I had a date (D is also for date!) with last Thursday. I got myself a new Dior baby to add to my handbag collection which I'm quite pleased about. It seems like all my favourite things à la mode start with a D! I know what you're thinking. Get your mind out of the gutter, you dirty deviant (more Ds).

A limited edition 'Lady Dior'---apparently there's only two in this colour available in Malaysia---in box calfskin with embroidered badges that I may have persuaded mummy to get for herself ie. will end up in my wardrobe at some point.

There's something quite soothing and welcoming about the lobby of JW Marriott, maybe because I associate it with years of visits to Spa Village and of course lazy afternoons whiled away in Starhill Gallery. Everybody has their 'Tiffany's'. I believe nothing very bad could ever happen at The Marriott/Starhill Gallery.

Christian Dior hosted a little birthday soiree for Datuk Rahmahjan Khan of Sabah in their flagship boutique.

Mummy with the birthday girl. Happy 26th birthday Datuk! Heehee.

With kakak Selina.

Dior closed the boutique for the afternoon so that we could lounge about, chit chat over cakes and tea, and peruse at our leisure and shop in privacy.

And shop we did.

'Lady Dior' and 'Diorissimo' in sweet shades for Spring.

I just realised that the two photos above are like a mirror version of each other, in terms of the colours of the bags.

More Lady Diors, I'd love one in dove grey.

As per my urging mummy tried on this simple peach number. It fit her slim figure perfectly but she was adamant about going a size up. She prefers her clothes a little bigger than her actual size. She's demure to the point of practically wasting her figure, I feel.

My face: "Oh well, whatever makes you happy."

I suppose when one is as accomplished and successful as she is, flaunting one's figure seems like an unnecessary parlour trick, considering that her reputation and achievements precede her. Still, I feel like it wouldn't hurt for her to show off that trim waist.

(I say that, but half the time I wear sports bras under my clothes to minimise my bust line)

'Dior Addict' shopping bag, loving the simple lines and slouchy but structured shape.

Isn't the 'Diorissimo' adorable? Thank you Dior for teaching me the correct way to twill a scarf around the handles.

Me: "How do I properly twist a scarf around my handbags?"

Mum: "You go to Dior and get the staff to do it for you."

Not helpful.

Loving the lining.

Trying on a structured scarf...forgot the name. Made me think of those accordion booklets I made as a child, thank you for the flashbacks Raf Simons.

I convinced mummy to get the 'Lady Dior' with badges on the premise that it's a limited edition, therefore a work of art and a collectable. Again, she sized up and got the bigger version but for once I am glad of her penchant for all things oversized, this smaller version isn't terribly practical. Once upon a time I could stuff all my work things into a small 'Lady Dior'. But back then my camera was one of those cheap compacts the size of a credit card.

Mummy also bought me a little something something!

She caught me eyeing up one of the bags, softly murmuring reassuring things to it 'I'll come back for you next time', and quietly gestured at the staff to have it taken away for me. So sneaky! I didn't even realise until they asked me if how I'd liked it wrapped.

Dior: "Would you like the box, madame?"

Me: "I'm only 21*, call me mademoiselle! And...what box?"

D: "The box for your new handbag." *mum's Amex, receipt, and pen whooshes past me on an embossed leather pad*

Me: "Mum, nooooo! You don't have to! Put that pen down, you're not signing for anything!"

Mum: *rolls eyes* "Please don't pretend like you're not secretly thrilled." *signs*

Me: *eyes water* But it's not even my birthday, why are you being so nice to me?

Mum: "Which acting school did you go to?"

*that is a boldfaced lie

Guess I shan't allow her to get me anything for my birthday. Unless! I leave the bag behind in K.L which makes it technically hers, meaning she didn't actually get me anything...hmmm....that could work. I'm not comfortable about accepting gifts I feel I don't deserve. I am but a simple, humble, soul**. **again, a lie. Sort of. It's partly true.

Aaaah, thank you mummy!

Dior slipped my mum a little notebook which she also let me have. Stop being so nice to me, I don't deserve it. Not that I mind too much.

As for my new handbag, friends and followers have been asking me which one I got.

Did you guess correctly? I won't hold it against you if you didn't bother to guess at all. I know I wouldn't. Anyway...

...it's the 'Dior Addict' shopping bag! *melts*

It's growing on me, a lot more than I'd care to admit. The colour scheme of black and pink reminds me of my lingerie favourite Agent Provocateur, making me think of all sorts of naughty things. I love that it's a perfect contrast of sexy and pretty.

The hot pink accents keep it from being boring.

I love this sort of simplicity, nowadays my taste has shifted from 'weighed down with chains' to refined minimalism.

Ahhhh! Maybe I won't leave it behind in K.L after all. Looks like I won't be asking for any birthday presents this year!

↧

Stylo Fashion Grand Prix 2014 Day 5 / Who is Gatsby?

April 1, 2014, 7:59 pm

≫ Next: A Louis Vuitton birthday soirée.

≪ Previous: D is for Dior

'...and Who Is Gatsby? That's one secret I'll never tell. You know you love me. XOXO, Stylo Girl...'

(I miss Gossip Girl from before the plot lines veered into the ridiculous and just plain unimaginative, reworking Blair into a sort of Upper East Side bow clad wearing Charlene of Monaco, really?)

Jovian Mandagie showing us just why he's the King Of Stylo.

No, I don't know who Gatsby is and why the highlight of the six-day F1 themed fashion festival was called 'Who is Gatsby?...A Vintage Party'. But I can say with some certainty that although the 1920s theme is getting rather done to death now (I blame you, Baz Luhrmann) I am glad that it encouraged the invitees---or at least the socialites and fauxcialites---to dress up (I hate the generalisation that Malaysians don't make as much as an effort) and glad the party was held at the much vaster, less stiflingly hot Hap Seng Star (hello high ceilings and air-conditioning).

Ever more pleasing that two of my favourite South East Asian designers Jovian Mandagie and Zang Toi were showing. I very much enjoyed the night's 'BDSM meets military chic meets Gothic Lolita meets Eliza Doolittle goes to the Ascot all blinged up in ice' vibe.

With my xiao meimei (little sister) Nana and xiao didi (little brother) Arran. We are three Leos, and collectively the most adorable little divas. What is the collective noun for Leos? A vanity of Leos? A tantrum of Leos? Anyway, the caption should read: L-R; Da hiao po, xiao hiao po, and xiao gong zhu. Oh no, those nicknames have stuck, what have I done?

I finally had an occasion to dig out the Chanel Westminster and drape myself in pearl necklaces (not that sort, you hiao po).

Fellow in the front row; Datins, dignitaries, and socialites adorned in pearls, feathers, and flowers.

Spotted, Kee Huat Chee defying the dress code and just being, well, himself.

This might actually be the most terrifying thing I've seen on a runway. Who doesn't enjoy Victorian sideshows, nightmarish circus performers, and the age old question'Is it or isn't it exploitation?'

My favourite looks from that night---

Fairuz Ramdan's'someone's been drinking while BDSM-ing'styling with his gentry in the city'collection gave me some ideas...good ideas. How annoyed I am that I threw out most of my military jackets, tweed, and S&M accessories. Time to go shopping.

I loved Zang Toi's collection which I dub 'Eliza Doolittle overcompensates at the races'.

I'm actually considering ordering this look to wear to Royal Ascot this year. Why? Because YOLO, that's why. Also, I can't stop saying YOLO ironically. It's really, really bad.

My favourite look from Zang Toi---

I think the mustache makes it.

The slightly gothic mood from the previous two shows were broken up with this clean, minimal, presentation.

I can't remember the designer's name but I love these iPhone necklace cases so much.

An interlude with the'Mercedes-Benz STYLO Emerging Designers 2014 Finals'.

I call this look 'virginal Viking in Springtime'.

And then, my personal highlight of the evening, Jovian Mandagie's 'Splash of Romance' bridal collection.

There were plenty of beautiful wedding gowns showcased but I only had eyes for this one!

The dress glided ever so slowly and deliberately to a version of Young and Beautiful so unusual I couldn't Shazam it (It sounded like the orchestral version Kanye used to propose to Kim with, with a bit of electro, and of course featuring Lana's husky vocals). That sheer train billowing like a ghostly curtain in the breeze...those sleeves like the wings of a rare, mythical bird, the daring simplicity of it all offset only by the lace detail.

Call off the search, I've found my wedding dress. Well, one of my many wedding dresses.

The only problem is that one cannot toss the bouquet in this dress.

Just a minor inconvenience, then. What was that saying? Oi leng, moi meng---beauty over health.

↧

A Louis Vuitton birthday soirée.

April 3, 2014, 4:00 pm

≫ Next: Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014 pre-event

≪ Previous: Stylo Fashion Grand Prix 2014 Day 5 / Who is Gatsby?

Mummy's birthday was on Monday and Louis Vuitton threw a little birthday tea for her, as they do every year.

Ever the dutiful daughter, I decked myself out in some of mummy's wares (Louis Vuitton W PM in Pistache, Zara dress, the usual shoes and accessories) and popped downed to the flagship store in Starhill Gallery for her little soirée. Only a week ago Dior hosted a tea for Datuk Rahmahjan's birthday and it was enjoyable enough but the LV matinées are by far my favourite.

The store has been renovated and expanded into a not unimpressive 15, 000 square foot space.

That's twenty times the size of my apartment...sigh. Perhaps I should just move into Louis Vuitton? By the look of the content of my wardrobe and the way it has overspilled into my apartment I'm already almost living in an LV pop up store, so setting up camp with my trunk seems like the next logical step.

I do love this piece for how striking it looks but I'm not making the connection between the artist's concept and the art itself. Methinks perhaps Lam just wanted to make something beautiful but had to write a hoity-toity statement to justify its creation. Not that it needs one. Is it not enough that it exists to be visually pleasing, that its raison d'être is to bring some gorgeousness into a space?

A detail.

Mummy's birthday tea was held in LV's private room away from prying eyes and easily scandalised but nosy ears (what is said in Louis Vuitton stays in Louis Vuitton) where we could sip tea and enjoy a spread of dim sum, champagne, and pastries at our leisure.

I love these kaya macarons so much that despite my smug assertions that I wouldn't be eating anything that day (have to somehow slip into a sample size for a shoot the next day) I ended up having four. Four. In Mandarin the word 'four' sounds like 'death' and is considered unlucky. The Chinese got it right.

It was a cozy, intimate affair just for a few of mummy's friends and of course yours truly who was there as comic relief.

So many of us had matching LV bags that we got mixed up more than once.

I'd rummage through my purse and wonder why everything looked so unfamiliar before realising I was pawing through someone else's. "Pass me my bag, please!" someone would say. "Which one?" I'd ask. "The black Capucines!""Again, WHICH one?""I don't know which one's mine! Just bring all three!"

And then our cozy little gathering was crashed by the arrival of dessert.

Who came bearing two cakes.

The birthday cakes were pretty enough and tasted nice (or so I was told, four macarons was my limit that day) but the only flavour any of the aunties were into was beefcake.

The blushes, giggles, shrieks, and caterwauls from some of the ladies was quite amusing but mostly terrifying to me (and the sweet young man). I felt bad for him, confronted by a bevy of aunties old enough to his mother going into hiao po mode. But that will probably be me in 20 years so I shouldn't judge.

Mummy and I took great pride in being very prim about the whole thing and looking away. I made a point to be as goofy as possible when forced to pose with the model because I'm destined for the nunnery anyway.

It seems that men can never keep their clothes on around me.

Not because I'm especially enticing, mind you, but mostly because they are being paid to be naked.

Sigh. I have looked into the future and seen the rest of my life, and it is bleak.

The birthday girl being forced to pose by myself. How peculiar that although we both attract attention, I gravitate toward it and seek to have a world (not the world, that would be arrogant) revolve around me whereas mother dearest tries to remain as low profile as she can, shunning exposure at every turn. How are we related again? One of the few things we have in common is our love for beautiful things and craftsmanship.

Cathy showing us new variations of the W PM that are set aside especially for us before they are put out on the store and made available to the public. Mummy has her eye on the black with red monograms but I put my foot down and said no. Two new handbags in (less than) a week is enough.

I am quite partial to the red and blue, but I still think the pistache is the prettiest.

Happy Birthday mummy!

Thank you for being so inspiring, supportive, loving, and for ageing so gracefully without any help. You've given me hope for my future. Here's to many more decades of your radiant, warm, and sassy presence gracing my life!

Ps.

I weighed in on The Great Debate about Facebook invites for Malaysia Tatler.

Read it here on the Malaysia Tatler website or grab a copy of the April issue.

↧

Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014 pre-event

April 6, 2014, 9:32 pm

≫ Next: La Plage by Bacanal

≪ Previous: A Louis Vuitton birthday soirée.

Bonjour from France!* I'm in a chateau on the hill for what is supposed to be a relaxing mini-break from the chaos of modern living but instead I'm working and planning my schedule to accommodate the coming events of this month. One of those which I'm terribly excited for is Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014, returning this year to enthral connoisseurs with a gastronomy experience unlike any other!

*not really. I'll elaborate later on Instagram.

This year, for the first time ever Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows will port into Danga Bay, Johor from 16-18 April. I've never actually been to Johor as a destination---to me Johor is a place you pass through to get to Singapore and quickly at that unless you want to get robbed---but I have been assured that Johor is no longer nearly as dangerous as I remembered it and is really quite a wonderful place to visit. So when Hennessy extended me an exclusive invitation to dine with them I had to say yes.

This year's Hennessy's X.O Appreciation Grows will feature culinary masterpieces wonderfully composed by three times James Beard semi-finalist for Best Chef: Southwest and 'Iron Chef Winner', Chef Viet Pham.

Hennessy X.O organised a meet and greet with Chef Pham to whet our appetites for the culinary treat that awaits us in Danga Bay (less than two weeks from now, how exciting!).

Myself and Chef Viet Pham, about to assist him in preparing a canapé with a mystery box ingredient voted for by the audience.

The event was held in Nathalie's Gourmet Studio, Solaris Dutamas. Lifestyle writers, magazines, and representatives from online portals were in attendance, apparently I was the only blogger there. I'm not a blogger, I just happen to have a blog that some people read. Am I making too much a fuss about semantics?

Loving this whimsical chandelier. Whiskical? No. I should not try to be punny right after I've had breakfast.

Will Quah kept everyone awake on an early Thursday morning with his upbeat demeanour and his voice whose inflections that are ridiculously easy on the ears. Please be my alarm clock, Will? I might actually wake up on time.

Hello!

How is everyone else so perky this early in the day? I fed off their energy to stay awake.

We were treated to a demonstration of two different ways to enjoy Hennessy X.O.

Some expressed trepidation about drinking this early in the day. To which I said "Well somewhere in the world it is already happy hour. So...a toast to our Australian brothers and sisters!".

Thank God I didn't go over my limit because I had to drive after. People did suggest I call my driver and leave my car in Solaris, or use Uber cars (just launched in Kuala Lumpur!) but no, I just had a small sip and left it at that.

The first concoction was fairly straightforward. A couple of ice cubes and a drop of water to stop the fiery first taste from burning one's mouth, instead delegating the burn to a slowly spreading warm sensation in the stomach and a soothing heat in the throat.

The second one involved a slice of lemon and a splash of sparkling water.

It was very refreshing and tasted like summer!

Well, summer for all the cognac loving Datuks who congregate and turn the house into a casino every Chinese New Year. Arran: "Wah habis la, all these uncles are singing Gangnam Style in my karaoke room. Save meeeee". I drink cognac too, does this make me a Datuk by association? Please ah, wo bu yao. Jia wo da huang ho.

My 'tanker'(the wingman who helps you finish your drink when you can't drink anymore), writer and stylist Chin Huat. Damnit, outside of Malaysia 'tanker' has a very different meaning.

Malaysian born Chef Viet Pham grew up in San Francisco Bay Area, interning at Michelin-starred Fifth Floor restaurant in San Francisco under Food & Wine Best New Chef 2002, Laurent Gras. He went on to cater private events before taking a leap of faith and relocating to Provo, UT where he met and befriended Bowman Brown. The pair went on to open Forage restaurant in Salt Lake City, 2009, which was quickly well received by the community, emerging as a top eatery in the area and winning Salt Lake City Magazine's Best New Restaurant in 2010 and Best Restaurant in 2011.

Chef Pham has gone on to win awards, nominations, and accolades, feature on Iron Chef America, Extreme Chef, and Next Food Network Star as well as open casual restaurant Beer Bar in Salt Lake City. He's also opening a fine dining restaurant Ember & Ash this summer, so it's fair to see that Chef Pham has been keeping busy.

And now he'll be treating us to a night of culinary delight for Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows!

But not before showing us what he can do with the Mystery Box challenge. Chef had to whip up a canapé on the spot with a surprise ingredient voted for by the guests. Attendees had to chose from three options; rambutan, sambal belacan, and tempeh. Even we didn't know what it was going to be, supplies supplies!

Chef asked for some assistants. I volunteered as tribute!

The unveiling of the Mystery Box ingredient.

*puts on Chairman Kaga voice*

Raaaaaambutaaaaaaaan!

Yes! I love rambutan, and I was one of the majority who voted for it.

'Let's get down to business, to defeat the rambutan...'(Mulan reference)

We had but twenty minutes to whip up a canapé with rambutan and several ingredients provided to us.

Chef decided to make a prawn and salsa canapé with sautéed rambutan.

We chopped up tomatoes, mint, and coriander to make a tangy salsa.

To be nested under some butterflied prawns and sautéed rambutan. We finished the challenge with several minutes to spare, so Chef grated some dark chocolate to sprinkle on the finished piece.

The result? A tiny masterpiece of flavour. A marriage of sweet and savoury (and then some), the tangy salsa was perfectly balanced by the sweet rambutan which brought out the sweetness of the prawn. Combined with the savoury seafood, it was all topped off with a subtle bitterness from the rich dark chocolate. All those flavours in a tiny little morsel!

Go team!

Chef Pham with the Hennessy peeps.

Our little masterpiece was served up as an entree for lunch to the hungry, anticipating guests!

Sadly I couldn't stay for lunch as I had to dash off, I had a busy day ahead of me.

But I was told our mystery challenge went down a treat with everyone!

Yummy.

I can't wait to see what surprises (supplies!) Chef Pham has in store for us at Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows at Danga Bay, and for Johor to surprise (supplies supplies!Hello Angela!) me.

Thank you Hennessy X.O for having me and Chef Pham for letting me ~~be more of a hindrance than help~~ assist you! See you all in Johor!

Also, I've realised that all the aprons I own are from cooking events I've attended this year as a 'blogger'. Two from this Hennessy event, one from Magnum, and one from Nokia. Supplieeeeees!**

**I am enjoying this 'supplies' joke far more than I should. SUPPLIES!

↧

La Plage by Bacanal

April 8, 2014, 9:08 pm

≫ Next: Chiggas in Chateau / Pt. Une

≪ Previous: Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014 pre-event

Chiggas in Chateau / Pt. Une

April 9, 2014, 6:40 pm

≫ Next: Chiggas in Chateau / Pt. Deux

≪ Previous: La Plage by Bacanal

Last weekend---I say weekend, but really I mean Sunday and Monday---I escaped the smog and pollution of K.L city and retreated to France, seeking refuge at a chateau on a hill.

Excuse my French but I'm in France, I'm just saaaaaying, I've got my chiggas in Chateau, haaaaah!

But wait...something doesn't quite sit right...this foliage...some of it looks rather tropical...and that landscape...

...fine, cicadas that croak like bullfrogs and attack you are distinctly French, but still...is this really Europe?

Hahaha, the gig is up. I wasn't actually in France, but at Berjaya Hill (formerly known as Bukit Tinggi) in Pahang, just an hour's drive from Kuala Lumpur and near Genting Highlands. I tried maintaining the provincial provence pretence for all of a day and a half, but all my friends saw right through it.

I spent the weekend recharging my batteries at The Chateau, a spa and organic wellness resort:

"Modeled after an 12th century medieval ‘ Haut Koenigsbourg’ castle in Alsace, France, The Chateau is the world’s first organic wellness spa resort offering the ultimate in health and wellbeing enrichment.

The Chateau offers guests a complete organic experience as well as impeccable service and unsurpassed hospitality standards. La Santé Organic Wellness Spa sets a new benchmark for a destination spa which blends the best of European spa expertise with renowned Asian hospitality."

The Chateau website

Long story short, I was hiding from everyone in a French castle themed spa retreat.

Or as le hot British doctor calls it 'a subtropical spoof by a theme park billionaire who loved Les Moules'.

Four floors of rooms and suites overlook a courtyard. Should one wish to communicate with someone from another room the rustic way ie. no phones, just waltz out to the corridor and let your voice carry across like the wind. I don't recommend it though, this is a place of wellness and rest, not a yodelling competition in the Swiss Alps.

The policy on considerate silence quelled my urge to walk out to the corridor, lean over, and sing Belle's song. 'Little town, it's a quiet village...'

I got distracted by that last paragraph and spent about twenty minutes on Youtube watching videos of yodelling.

It was a welcome respite from the city and an escape from everyday life. March was not the best month for Malaysians what with so much tragedy going around and so even in April a nagging sense of discontent loomed in the air like the last remnants of smoke after a fire. Even as the haze from Indonesia fades into a hazy (haha) memory, temperatures in K.L still soar to unbearable heights.

Being away in the hills where the temperature was a balmy 25-27c for just a weekend did wonders for my tranquility.

I'm loving how my new Lady Dior instantly adds pizazz to any outfit. My dad asked me'Did you glue your high school badges on to the bag by yourself?' Ummm...no. Clearly my mother is the fashionable parent.

The rooms...!

I stayed at the reasonable but still very comfortable Noble Suite.

Yellow and purple make for a surprisingly good combination, individually I dislike those colours (I used to adore purple until I found out it was my unlucky colour) but together they make for an energetic but not brash coupling. The colour scheme of the Noble suite made me feel upbeat, I think I shall be taking some styling tips from the suite.

Meanwhile the Son Altesse suite, the best one's money can buy (at RM7000 a night) is terribly elegant and spacious, with a dressing room the size of most people's entire apartment.

Beside the gentle dove grey colour scheme and marble, the main draw for me was the bathroom.

Specifically the massage table in the bathroom overlooking a gargantuan mirror.

So terribly sexy, so perfect for role-play...imagine one's lover, good with their hands, giving you a slow massage with a happy ending, with that mirror to watch the explosive conclusion. Grrrrrr.

On to more wholesome thoughts.

Din dins with the fam fam.

To keep up the joke about being in France I did Whatsapp a few people "Sorry, I have to go, breakfast is calling...". I am the worse.

Will a weekend break from the city cure those dark circles and eye bags? The answer is no.

The menu was thoughtfully planned for us (and featured a lot of potato foam) to spare us the strain of any decision making, because if I wanted to use my brain I wouldn't have taken a weekend getaway, oui?

Amuse bouche was scallops on salsa.

Entree number one; prawn ravioli in a bath of double boiled chicken consommé flavoured with thai basil (also known as fancy wonton soup). Topped with potato foam.

Entree number two; risotto with slow roasted tomato and basil, crisp, and topped with...potato foam.

Mains number one; roasted john dory with braised artichokes, red pepper and potato...thankfully not foamed.

I pulled over a waiter and told him to keep the potato foam off my second mains.

Mains number two; medium rare rib eye with wild mushroom ravioli, broad beans, and thankfully no potato foam.

Followed by tea and pudding.

A giant lychee macaron sandwich with lychee custard jelly, fruit, and lychee sorbet.

I learnt at breakfast the next morning that lychee features quite a bit in the menu, even more so than the potato foam. Which can only be a good thing, you have to be positively soulless to not love lychee.

Exhausted from my drive up to The Chateau and positively knackered from eating more than four macarons a day I called it an early night and looked forward to passing out in my giant bed. Except that I didn't quite call it an early night because all well-laid plans run awry.

No matter, I managed to wake up for breakfast the next morning and make it to the award-winning spa, which I shall share in the next post...!

Outfit of the day details; Chula dress (the designer paints on his creations, making them literally works of wearable art), Gucci heels, and Lady Dior.

#chateaulife #chateauselfie #chiggasinchateau

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Chiggas in Chateau / Pt. Deux

April 10, 2014, 4:00 pm

≫ Next: A little slice of paradise

≪ Previous: Chiggas in Chateau / Pt. Une

What's up, buttercup?

Despite not getting very much sleep at all (the story of my life; I just want to make nice things and get enough sleep, is that too much to ask?) I managed to rise early the next morning. Here's something I wish I knew when I was in college: waking up early is almost always worth it. After one powers through the initial excruciating start (for me it lasts as least an hour, I am not a morning person) and gets the ball rolling; hours just fly by, tasks get tackled with lightning effeciency, and lunchtime is greeted with a satisfaction that is almost like a drug. It's an amazing high that can last all day and do wonders for one's paradigm! Oh my God, I just wrote a whole paragraph on the joys of starting the day early, I am officially old.

So my tasks at hand on that early Monday were, in this order; stretch. eat. do some work. go to the spa for a massage.

That doesn't seem terribly taxing. But considering that I had to start the day by getting out this glorious slice of heaven...

...yes, well, now you see my conundrum. But rise I did, and stretch I do. Always.

Breakfast at Belle Vue, the tea room. I always binge on holiday, it's disgusting and I love it.

I rarely eat breakfast but when I do I start with a double espresso...

...and give in to carbs. Love the lychee on the pastry.

Eggs are of course an essential...

...since I'm trying to eat less carbs and more protein, I asked that my wonton mee have only a small scoop of noodles but more wontons and vegetables. I replace the carbs in my meal with more vegetables whenever I can, clearly it's working, I've never felt better.

'Make do and mend' eggs benedict. Despite lacking the usual ingredients for eggs benny, Chef whipped this up and it was scrumptious. Loved every last bite.

I managed to write a blog post about the Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014 pre-event in which I assisted Chef Viet Pham in his 'mystery box' cooking challenge...

...and changed into something far more comfortable for my spa session. My default lazy day uniform; gym clothes, fierce eyebrows, and Louis Vuitton.

La Santé is the first European concept spa in Asia and the jewel in The Chateau’s crown. Combining the best of European spa expertise with renowned Asian hospitality, La Santé offers a complete organic experience to a discerning clientele who wishes to embark on a journey toward wellness.

Apart from the usual treatments like massages, facials, hair styling, and manicures, La Santé also offers specialised programmes and therapies like Stress Relief, Body Sculpt, Wellness Getaway, Fit for Life, Couple Retreat, Pre Natal Therapy, Post Natal Remedy...the list goes on! As well as For The Men programmes. They also do professional nutritional consultation and bone density measurement.

They've been consistently winning awards, year after year, and their wall of fame (at the entrance of The Chateau) is hanging with so many accolades that I couldn't fit them all into one photo.

It's a given that their facilities are excellent, in fact, La Sant é have so many rooms devoted to different specialised treatments that the spa itself is like a rabbit's warren, or even some sort of lemon and basil scented Wonderland. Behind every door is a different pleasant surprise.

I do like this massage bed, where one gets exfoliated and rinsed down all while lying down. Never having to get out of bed to shower, but instead lie down dirty and wake up clean? That is the dream.

A jacuzzi in a couple's therapy room...

...and a single room, for those who find themselves forever alone. Hello reflection, you're the only one I need.

The rather sparkly salt grotto, with Swarovski crystals embedded in the wall.

I imagine the wealthy, glamour-loving Middle Eastern spa-goers would approve. Speaking of Middle Easterners, La Sant é has an entirely set of therapy rooms in a smaller, separate part of the building for those whose culture emphasises privacy and modesty. As it should be, but you'd be surprise how many spas don't.

One of my favourite rooms is the herbal bath, where you sit in a little nook like a bun in a clay oven and steam yourself fragrant.

The veranda, overlooking the hills of Pahang, is quite a serene spot to sit quietly...

...but personally I prefer the outdoor jacuzzi in all its coziness.

I have an obsession with pools of water indoors, or sheltered with a view of the outdoors, and especially underground. A shaded nook of water, where one can hide and watch the world pass by...to me that is so romantic. Snuggling with a date in a lagoon cave? Yes. Making out behind a waterfall? Yes yes. For a fire sign I sure have an fascination for water, perhaps to cool down my personality.

Back to the spa.

The LPG Integral S machine that uses patented Lipomassage and Endermolift for a pain free, 100% natural slimming techniques. For the body the Lipomassage slimming technique reactivates the fat release process (lipolysis) to erase localised fat, and the mechanical stimulation triggers reactivation of fat release and collagen and elastin production.

And this!

The Accent Ultra, for safe, non-invasive and painless body reshaping. The first real alternative to surgical procedures (with no downtime or uncomfortable side effects) it uses radio frequency technology for advanced deep controlled heat therapy to contour and slim the body, improve cellulite and tighten sagging skin.

If only I knew about these treatments I would have signed up for those and not a massage! What am I going to the gym (lies, I haven't gone since I've been back in K.L) and doing juice detoxes for?

Oh well.

I booked myself in for a Swedish massage.

My therapist was glorious and sorted out every kink in my shoulders. I did squeal like a stuck pig at every knot she untangled, but what is that saying? No pain, no gain. It's the good kind of pain where you feel instant relief and pleasure the moment the pressure is alleviated...hmmm, kind of like S&M. And people wonder why massages are so sensual?

La Sant é uses Voya products, an organic seaweed skincare and body care range exclusive to La Santeé in Malaysia. A lot of the products have the most refreshing lemon and basil scent...the sort of smell I associate 'clean' with.

I love that the graphics, even though they are seaweed, looks a little like hands. Quite appropriate given that they're spa products, yes?

Thoroughly tranquil, refreshed, and glowing post-massage...I should really go to the spa more often, it does wonders for my disposition.

There's always the endorphins and feel good factor of the gym.

The gym looks out to a lovely water feature, and beyond that the balcony overlooks the forest.

Every morning the glass doors are opened so everybody on the machines gets to breathe in the fresh hill top air and enjoy the view.

Doing weights the only way I know. Yes, 'bro', I do lift. More than you think I do. Try toting a 5kg handbag around all day long wearing high heels.

Every morning, yoga sessions are held outside on the courtyard so that the class can enjoy being closer to nature. Myself, I prefer the solitude (and mirror) of a studio.

Pardon the picture quality. 'Tis a little blurry, but I had to compromise either the focus of my camera or my posture. Clearly, posture wins.

I highly recommend The Chateau for a weekend of relaxation and wellness, especially for their spa. Such a nice treat for those when one wants to get out of the city in just under an hour and come back refreshed.

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A little slice of paradise

April 13, 2014, 8:49 pm

≫ Next: Eat. Sleep. Swim. Read. Repeat.

≪ Previous: Chiggas in Chateau / Pt. Deux

'The view is always better from the top'...'Seeing the big picture'...'A change of perspective makes all the difference'...'It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small'*...all of that and more, when one of my regular local destinations, Redang, an island off the east coast of Malaysia, sheds its 'twee school holiday getaway with the family' image in my head and matures into 'my private little piece of heaven' just because of a change in location. And some elevation. And no small amount of upgrading. It's all about perception, everything is, this is why people make money to buy things, or rather an illusion of the big promise.

*no, I won't stop with the Frozen references. I just can't Let It Go.

Redang has always been beautiful. A sleepy island fringed with powder white sand, surrounded by turquoise blue waters hosting abundant coral reefs and diverse marine life with the best visibility in Malaysia making it a snorkelling and diving destination. But being an idyllic place, one doesn't get around or do much beyond lie around the beach or swim. Great if you're a mermaid, I suppose. But I'm more like a pygmy hippo. With a gimpy leg. Who harbours secret dreams of being a seagull, perched high up on a rocky cliff surveying the domain beneath and beyond from above. All while having any need anticipated and tended to, pampered beyond whim. So essentially I'm a pygmy hippo with the disposition of a house cat with aspirations of being a large bird.

Happily I found just the place to make those animalistic desires come true. The Taaras Villa on the cliffs of Redang, a 3000 sq ft residence, equipped with everything I ever need including staff so that I never had to leave my perch. My little slice of paradise. A little private piece of heaven.

Here, a preview of sorts:

View of Redang from the plane.

All I ever had to do was swim in the elevated privacy of the infinity pool, spy from the sun deck on the people diving off the rocks into the waters below, look out and wave to the boats on the sea, make out squid, fish, and sometimes sharks swimming near the rocks, gaze at the happy families playing on The Taaras' private beach, and enjoy the comfort and luxury of the villa.

But I did more, I actually ventured out twice to snorkel, exploring shallow water coral reefs and spotting turtles at Turtle Bay. More to come soon because good things should be shared.

But for now, perhaps peruse The Taaras website and maybe consider Redang as your next holiday destination?

↧

Eat. Sleep. Swim. Read. Repeat.

April 16, 2014, 8:19 pm

≫ Next: Into The Blue

≪ Previous: A little slice of paradise

...because what else is there to do when one finds themselves on a cliff, overlooking the marine park island of Redang with sweeping views of the South China Sea, beaches, and mountains?

What need is there to leave your villa, when it comes with everything you could need; your own gym, sixteen metre infinity pool, vast wraparound sun deck and numerous balconies, your own staff to cater to your every whim, need, and desire, your butler to bring you the local delicacies and your chef to whip them up into supper for you?

What else can one do?

Survey your dominion from up on your lofty perch, like the (lion) king you are. Everything the light touches is ours.

The Taaras Villa hit the nail on the head with 'barefoot luxury'.

Disregard the photos on the The Taaras website, they are not of the villa. Instead let these photos illuminate upon you the joys of staying indoors even when surrounded by the splendours of a tropical paradise. The Taaras Villa is RM30,000 (or was it 20?) a night but when you realise that it easily sleeps ten people, it works out to 3k each, so this little jewel isn't entirely unfeasible, more so if your currency is especially strong against the Malaysian Ringgit (euros and pound sterling, I'm looking at you).

I shan't post the amenities and room features from the website here as they are so simply described that they fall laughingly short of the true luxury and comfort of the villa.

The sun drenched living room, whose blinds were kept down all morning, every morning, by the rest of my party. I was the only person under 30...40 really, and you know what my parents' generation are like. One freckle, one tan line, God forbid a tan and you are a disgrace to the Overseas Chinese race. Did anyone else of my generation have Hazeline Snow slathered on their faces to negate the fierce Malaysian sun's unforgiving (and darkening!) rays? Yes, I see you!

Now I am overcome with nostalgia and feel an urge to dash out to the nearest pharmacy and buy a pot of Hazeline Snow, spread it all over my face and enjoy the soothing coolness...aaaaahhhhhhhh that wonderful sensation I'm feeling on my skin? That's childhood, right there.

Anyway.

So this was more or less all I did during my stay at The Taaras Villa in Redang.

#ChiggasinChateau is so last week, it's now all about #VillaLyf.

Try to wake up early every morning.

It's a real struggle when the bed is so thick and fluffy, like sleeping in a tub of whipped marshmallow.

But you need to find the strength to hit the button and open the curtains. As they slowly part with a soothing whirring sound, the tropical light floods in and your eyes slowly adjust to the glare, mercifully softened by the sheer curtains. The turquoise waters and azure skies of Redang slowly come into view and you chastise yourself for staying in bed for as long as you have.

I try to avoid the dressing room and bathroom in the morning because the mirrors lit by the unforgiving morning light, hides no flaws and frankly I can't handle the sight of my unmade up face this early in the day.

Headed downstairs using the lift instead of the stairs, even though it's only one flight, because, well, it's morning.

And of course everyone else is already at brunch. You can always count on the older generations of Asians to be awake early, it's a survival skill born out of necessity. What is the proverb? '富不过三代' Wealth lasts three generations; the first makes it, the second spends it, the third squanders it. I disagree. Why am I even talking about generational wealth and inheritance? I'm in a strange mood.

Breakfast, brunch, lunch, tea, etc. is served.

Thanks to our hardworking team of chef, cooks, and butlers.

Well look who made a rare appearance for breakfast...usually the only thing I eat in the morning are the flies that find their way into my open, snoring mouth.

Lunch is always local delicacies, and as organic or free-range as it gets because it's from the sea. Or the forests.

The catch of the day. I find it hilarious that my genteel non-Asian friends recoil in horror at faces on their food. To say nothing of how disgusting they find chicken's feet served at the table. Hahahaha, did you think that your fish filet grew on a tree? An animal died for your meal for goodness sake, look it in the eye and offer it your thanks for its sacrifice.

Satay. I am reminded of Damian who had satay in Bali and didn't realise the sauce was made of peanuts. Serious swelling occurred, poor lamb.

Squid, my favourite.

My Frankenstein's monster; a mashup of nasi lemak, noodles, satay, and goodness knows what else.

I am sadly allergic to pineapple and my life is lacking for it. But then again I can eat durian, so there is justice in this world after all.

Lunch selfie with my twin, hello mummy! It's like looking in a mirror.

Take an outfit of the day photo for Instagram before quickly shedding it all for a bikini under a bath robe. I'm sorry, crisp white linen shirt, you are terribly photogenic but you just can't beat a fluffy bath robe for lounging around the villa like a stoned manatee.

The deadly combination of the midday sun and food coma kicks in, joining forces to hypnotise the unsuspecting into a stupor. One can either succumb to by taking a nap which I did at least a couple of times, only to sleep until dinner and waste a whole day. Or one can try to stay alert by being active.

Only after a couple of days did I realise we had a gym in the basement. Say hello to the most unloved and unused room in the villa.

I did try to use the day bed as my little quiet place for reading. I love that it was underground with the floor to ceiling windows affording spectacular views of the tropical rainforest outside, it was like being in an air conditioned tree house. I love sheltered hidden corners with low ceilings and great views, like lagoons, coves, waterfalls...I think I've mentioned this before in my spa post.

Or one could get creative and do some flower arranging.

If flowers are unavailable make do with whatever you can find in the house, sorry, villa. Don't think too much about what you're creating---overthinking is the enemy---just go with the flow, follow wherever your hands go, and let your subconscious take you down a path of exploration.

Step back to take a look at your creation, it's symbolism, and analyse what it says about your state of mind.

In my instance it is clear that I spend too much time on my own, allowing my mind to be the devil's playground. So perhaps take oneself outdoors and bask in the sunlight?

My nickname is iceberg, because I'm huge, I'm white, and I float.

Genuine question; can you be a mermaid if you are fat?

No? Dugong it is.

Testing a disposable underwater Kodak film camera in the pool before taking it out to snorkelling.

It would be a shame to soak up only the sun when such a leisurely trip affords a busy person the rare opportunity to absorb some reading.

One of four Murakami novels that I bought ten years ago but shamefully never got around to reading. And I will shamefully admit, that again, I didn't finish any of them this time around.

So I'm taking them with me to Cuba where I'm sure they will again fester, unloved, in the dusty recesses of my suitcase. Or I could post photos of myself in a bikini, pretending to read carefully staged against the most photogenic corner of the villa, to craft myself as the Pinterest dream girl whose interests are as broad as the horizons she meticulously photographs her thigh gap against.

But I'll come clean, really I was in my gym clothes (that have never been to the gym), constantly changing positions to find a comfortable way to recline and read (there are none) before eventually giving up and taking a nap.

As the sun sets, it dawned (shouldn't it be dusked?) on me that I've spent an entire day doing eff-all, so I try to balance out the slovenly indolence with a few half-hearted attempts at pilates. Or yoga.

Or whatever you call this.

Whatever my physical limitations; too fat, too flabby, lacking wings, I can at least be assured that despite my best efforts at avoiding exercise I will always be flexible. You'd think that'd mean I can fly long distance in economy class without much discomfort, but that isn't so.

The day ends, as it should, with a romantic dinner (for ten) on the beach. Strictly speaking this is outside the jurisdiction of the villa, but sometimes you just have to venture out. And venture out I did do, to the marine park and surrounding islands for some snorkelling, turtle stalking, fish feeding, and dugong impersonating. More about that tomorrow.

Dugong, out.

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Into The Blue

April 17, 2014, 6:27 pm

≫ Next: LaFite at Shangri-La Kuala Lumpur

≪ Previous: Eat. Sleep. Swim. Read. Repeat.

...or as it is fondly referred to by my family as'How Jasiminne got bitten on the nose by a fish'.

It's simple really, just be vain and stupid enough to take off your snorkelling mask while holding a piece of bread in a coral reef inhabited by fish accustomed to being fed by humans. All because I wanted a glamourous photo of myself swimming like a mermaid queen (and no self-respecting mermaid would be caught with a snorkel and mask, unless she was wearing it ironically like a hipster Ariel) surrounded by my adoring fish subjects. So I took off my mask for the photo and lured the fish to me with some bread. One of them mistook my substantial nose for food and chomp.

This would've never happened to Ariel...more evidence that I am not a mermaid. This is what you get for flicking your hair at your lifeguard when he asks if you want a life vest, retorting "Tak payah! Aku ikan duyung" (No need, I am a mermaid). Nature: 1, Jasiminne: 0.

Free nose jobs aside, Redang is a great destination for snorkelling and diving, with many parts of the islands designated as marine parks. The crystal clear waters there are the highest visibility in Malaysia especially in summer. The government has done a reasonable job at protecting the area by not allowing boats to land on the beaches, rather anchoring (on buoys, not reefs) some distance away and telling visitors to, well, literally go jump off a boat. Organic sunscreen is encouraged, well, should be enforced really, so as not to poison the waters. Picking corals, even dead ones from the sea bed, is forbidden and heaven help you if you even try to stand on a reef.

Sadly there are ignorant (or apathetic, which is even worse) visitors who disregard all of that and over ten years have managed to cause serious damage to the reefs. They deserve to be bitten repeatedly on the nose by all the fish whose homes they've destroyed with their irresponsibility.

The Taaras Villa is shielded from direct sunlight even in the midday, what a relief.

So I finally descended from my palatial perch to join the rest of the human race. I leapt off my villa on the cliff into the waters below.

No, that's a lie, I was driven from my door to the beach, where a boat and two lifeguards were waiting for me.

Beach essentials; a 'jelly bag', the Furla Candy bag, Mozi coconut & pineapple hand cream that smells like pina colada (the only healthy way to enjoy a cocktail), an unnecessary (I have very straight hair) Tangle Teezer that I bought because it was all the rage, Percy & Reed hair oil, SPF 50 because I don't want to look like a leather handbag, and a Kodak disposable underwater camera.

Turqoise waters...

...and azure skies.

Be assured that my pictures do the clarity and colour of the waters no justice, in real life they look like a desktop wallpaper. The whole time I was remarking, damn, the sea looks photoshopped...

This angle...if I dropped my camera into the sea, hitting my face on the way down, it would serve me right.

We were warned of triggerfish who will protect their homes at all cost, a visitor came too close to the coral bed it was living in and got nipped all over. Apparently he was covered in what looked like love bites, well, he could always tell the lads that he made out with an aggressive mermaid. Far less emasculating than being chased away by a little fish.

The waters were clear enough but somehow lacked the vivid landscape I remembered as a child. The lifeguards promised to take us to a better spot, so a few days later we took the boat out again and went to turtle bay, on the northernmost part of Redang.

This time I fed the fishes from a safe distance.

These dark shapes on the sea bed are not actually rocks but turtles.

The view from the boat. I think the depth was about 20 metres?

The three turtle species that visit this bay are the olive ridleys, green turtles, and hawskbills.

The beach itself is an destination for turtles to lay their eggs.

And mate.

I stumbled upon what I thought was a turtle giving another an affectionate piggyback ride. Only later did I realise that I had rudely intruded on their sexy times. Oh God, I've reached a new low...

Turtle angling for a threesome...?

And then giving up.

The turtles are of course unafraid of humans, as they should be, and will swim up to you with curiosity. A couple swam up to the boats, stuck their heads out expectedly, and then nibbled some greenery that was attached to the underside. This makes for great photography. But of course this also means that should you cut a turtle off with the intention of taking a photo of it approaching, it will swim right into you and you have about three seconds to get out of the way of get knocked out. Rule of the road is, the bigger car is always right.

The variety of fish and corals at turtle bay is so much better but sadly I had run out of film by then. I recognised bivalves, baby sharks, clownfish, angelfish, parrotfish, razorfish, and moon wrasse. The rest I'll have to come back for, when I get a real underwater camera. A Go Pro even? And of course, when I have a diving license.

If you visit Redang, whether you snorkel or dive, please do so responsibly. Don't let your fins touch the corals, don't harass the wildlife, use organic non-toxic sunscreen, and for God's sake keep your mask on unless you want to get bitten on the nose by fish.

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LaFite at Shangri-La Kuala Lumpur

April 19, 2014, 6:32 pm

≫ Next: I ♥ Malaysia Airlines

≪ Previous: Into The Blue

It's nine in the morning and I'm in the Golden Lounge, KLIA, waiting for my flight back to London. Dear God, it's early and a Sunday morning but somehow the airport is rammed with people...where are they flying to? Anywhere but on my flight please, I'm claustrophobic. Please please please. Here's another first world problem, trying to muddle through a sleep-addled brain and figure out which lane is moving more quickly; the Premier Lane or the regular Autogate (for Malaysian passport holders)*.

*answer: Premier Lane, but only by a hair. Whaaaaat.

My sincerest apologies to all the people in K.L that I didn't meet up with this around. Acquaintances, long-lost friends, and long suffering family members alike. I only came back for a month for a few events, couple of trips, to take care of some business, and to see some family, so my time in Malaysia was sparse. I wasn't feeling my best either, for some reason I kept falling sick and I made at least six trips to the hospital (the Prince Court staff are my new best friends). Of course I am also the worse at making plans to make up for people, people usually chase me or just figure out where I am and show up to see me.

Anyway, if you're one of those sorely-neglected friends/family/foe I've mentioned, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you when I'm back in November and maybe I'll talk you all to LaFite at Shangri-La?

An institution, it's one of my oldest favourite places to dine for years. Of course I enjoy French cuisine, and small portions for when I want to feel less like a noble savage and more like the refined madame I pretend to be.

Their signature fruit salad; paper thin slices of mango, dragon fruit, grape, scattered with almonds, sorbet, blueberries and raspberries. Drenched in bourbon vanilla syrup. Don't chew on the mint, just don't.

I love the Shangri-La; I associate it with 'social season' and all the usual events (Tatler ball and the like) but by day it's no less glamourous, just more serene and befitting of the name.

La Fite is of course just as inviting and luxurious.

Be sure to book the private room if you're dining with more than a couple of people, the view alone never mind the privacy is worth it.

I stared out the window for hours, watching the gardener in his knit gloves, oversized hat, and many layers wondering "Isn't he sweltering?". On the topic of weather-inappropriate uniforms, every time I see a policeman in his knee high boots, gloves, and jacket I cringe. They must be so sweaty in this stifling heat, no wonder most of them are so cranky.

The service is of course good; the standards have slipped just a little (or maybe it was an off day) but the food is as always impeccable.

'How to fake dimples' a guide by Jasiminne Yip.

My porcini soup with foie gras...

...which for some reason I've lost the appetite for. I used to love foie gras, but now the taste and texture of it makes me gag.

Oh my cod, that fish cray (not it wasn't, it was cod).

My wagyu Beef Tournedos with sautéed artichoke, pommes Dauphines and Rossini sauce.

Pink and juicy. Just how I like my meat.

A stomach filled is a heart content.

And of course the signature fruit salad, the sweetness of which is balanced by the sorbet and light touch of the deftly sliced fruit is the perfect end to a meal.

Who wants to come with me to La Fite next time? No, I'm not buying haha.

I want to see if I can handle eating the entire degustation menu(six courses for RM330, three for RM230, of course it makes more sense to have six) for lunch. The wine list is supposedly great but...I can't drink wine, c'est whatever.

If we're lucky I might stumble, again, on the Shangri-La staff changing the flower display. Nothing so intoxicating and potent as the heady scent of hundreds of fresh lilies.

Time for me to board my flight...wish me a safe journey. See you soon, London. Kuala Lumpur, see you in November.

↧

I ♥ Malaysia Airlines

April 21, 2014, 12:09 am

≫ Next: Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014 in Danga Bay, Johor

≪ Previous: LaFite at Shangri-La Kuala Lumpur

The prodigal daughter returns!

To London, that is, I feel I need to clarify that because I'm either returning to Kuala Lumpur or London. Living in two cities is romanticised as having the best of both worlds but people tend to glaze over the fact that one also get the worst of both worlds.

I got back yesterday evening, safely by care of Malaysia Airlines*. And why shouldn't I? One tragic incident in an otherwise excellent safety record and the world turns to mock or shun our world-class airline which until now has only ever been on peoples' lips for their hospitality and service. We all know my strong feelings about this, national newspaper The Star quoted me in this article and heck, the debut issue of my topical comic series Audaciously Yours opened with a scene in an A380 airbus with the narrator singing MAS's praises.

Audaciously Yours Week 1: The Prodigious Daughter Returns. September 2013.

*to be honest when the captain announced at the beginning of the flight that four passengers aren't making their flight and having their luggage removed, I got paranoid and my mind jumped to a thousand conspiracy theories. Do they know something we don't? I'm generally uneasy on airplanes. But then I remembered that two fortune tellers predicted that I'd be married, or have announced the intention to, by the end of next year. So I have at least a good one and a half years ahead of me. I think of that whenever I need reassurance in the face of impending danger.

So while people make passing (and insensitive, may I add, have they paused to consider that being Malaysian there's a good chance that I know people on the missing flight?) jokes about me flying MAS "Oh, I hope your plane doesn't go missing" and the sort (yes, you're so witty and original) I'm here to rebuke them. Not by stooping to particularly unsophisticated lows, but by showing them just why I love Malaysia Airlines so much.

My new favourite travelling tote, the Dior Addict I was surprised with.

First and foremost, the food. Airplane food is generally horrendous but MAS is not bad at all, very good even (by airplane food and sometimes even 'normal food' standards).

That they serve a choice of Malaysian dishes is no small comfort to me, a woman who finds herself torn between her home country and the one she makes her life in.

I tried for the first time the Chef-on-call service where one books the main course of their meals in advance. I got to choose from fifteen of their ever-changing monthly specials available to frequent flyers.

It was really quite fun selecting my meals from an online menu full of pretty photos. Here's a secret, before I visit a restaurant I browse, days ahead, the menu, decide what I want, and spend the nights before salivating of anticipation in my sleep. There's nothing like anticipation to whet the appetite.

Of course one must have the MAS signature drink, Ruby Passion, calamansi juice flavoured with tropical spices.

Lunch naturally started with an appetiser of Malaysia Airlines' signature satay which they've served from the very beginning, and has been produced in their in-house kitchens since 1973. I truly settle into a flight only after I've had my MAS satay.

The second starter; smoked chicken salad with rocket, diced mango, and raspberry chilli dressing.

For my mains I had pre booked the oven cooked lamb with sweet potato.

It was nice enough but nothing beats the nasi lemak!

Pudding was a satisfyingly dense chocolate brioche and english toffee pudding, topped with slices of caramel, chunky toffee, sautéed banana and drenched in vanilla anglaise.

And Kapiti vanilla bean ice-cream.

I was too full for the fruit and cheese selection so I passed, yes, I could have ordered it anyway to photograph for this post but I feel bad about wasting food. Especially on a flight where someone else probably really wants the cheese and crackers more than I do.

I always enjoy their travel magazine Going Places.

On snap I forgot to take a copy for myself. Woe betide me, and this the food issue with so many recommendations of wonderful places I wanted to try! At least I had the foresight to photograph my favourite articles...

While the latest craze in London is hating on the burger craze in London, the yet to be jaded foodies in Malaysia are eager to get their fill of charcoal buns, towering stacks of twenty five patties in one burger, and fusions of chicken thigh and steak fillings.

Damnit I want a burger now.

I want to go to Ipoh! Missing Marbles, Lucky 8, Ben & Lynette's, The Roquette, The Patisserie BoutiQue...just five reasons to make the two hour drive from K.L. Let's go, Michiekins?

I maintain my grasp on Bahasa Melayu by reading their Malay language articles and translating them to English. 'Kecil, cantik, molek' is now my new favourite thing to say aloud to myself when I'm alone. For the last month it was my impression of Michiekins screeching'Enough ah!'which always randomly escapes my mouth whenever I'm driving haha.

I always get plenty of work done on my thirteen hour flights between London and K.L.

Here's a thought: Flying from K.L to London is thirteen hours, and because of the time zones I gain eight hours. Thirteen minus eight is five, does that mean I was only technically in the air for five hours? Does this make me a time-travelling wizard?! Ooooooooh. *dons pointy hat*

No photos of myself because I had no makeup on, so here's one of me on my screen. Editing photos from the Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows dinner party in Danga Bay with Chef Viet Pham. It was a riot and I can't wait to blog about it. I did post bits of it on my Dayre if you can't wait that long.

I also take the opportunity to reorganise my purse. Long haul flights are best for doing mundane and tedious tasks.

Soon after I fully reclined and went to sleep for at least six hours. I fell asleep right away, this time I didn't even have to ask for my usual snack of chicken noodle soup and scotch on the rocks.

A couple of hours before landing we were woken up for a light meal.

Seared tuna and asparagus salad.

I pre booked my mains again using the online Chef on call service. This time it was linguini served in a creamy tomato sauce, diced mango, asparagus, and grilled prawns.

I finished my meal with an espresso which gave me all the energy I needed for the rest of the evening.

Despite a twenty minute delay thanks to heavy air traffic and a terrifyingly busy day at Heathrow, I whizzed through immigration with my hot pink Premier Lane pass (thank God for small mercies), waited only five minutes for luggage, and got back to the apartment in under an hour.

Coolio the hamster peed on me by way of welcome so my day was of course perfect.

I've been up since six this morning. I was unpacking and tidying the moment I got back, passed out from exhaustion and went to bed early, and now I'm awake at an unfeasibly early hour. On a bank holiday Monday too! I'll probably go back to sleep at around lunch and be back on London time by tomorrow.

I promise to answer my phone by tomorrow. Promise.

Thank you for having me, Kuala Lumpur. Hello again London.

x

↧

Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014 in Danga Bay, Johor

April 23, 2014, 4:00 pm

≫ Next: La Plage by Bacanal

≪ Previous: I ♥ Malaysia Airlines

What is the litmus test one uses to measure quality with? More specifically, what would you do to attend a dinner party you deem worthy of being graced by your illuminating (haha) and obnoxious presence? In this instance it was my willingness to postpone my flight from Kuala Lumpur back to London just so I can fly down to Johor Bahru for the Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014 event.

Whenever Hennessy X.O asked me to consider attending, (not-so) jokingly suggesting 'Just postpone your flight lah!' (you know who you are, ahem) my answer was always the same 'I'm sorry, I can't, I have to go back to London and feed my hamster' (the new 'I have to wash my hair). My position was steadfastly so until I met the man behind the magic himself, Chef Viet Pham, and assisted him at the Appreciation Grows 2014 pre-event.

He earned my respect not only with the way he butterflied those prawns, or sautéed the rambutans, or whip up a 'mystery box' canapé in under twenty minutes despite my best efforts to sabotage him (not intentionally, but this is what happens when I help out in the kitchen) BUT when he stopped whatever he was doing (probably chopping something into tiny pieces) and jokingly glared at me for taking selfies while supposedly assisting him. Nobody ever dares to throw shade at me! Chef Pham, you are a cool dude. I will postpone my London flight by two days just so I can come to Appreciation Grows 2014 and have you cook dinner for me.

Consider that the highest form of praise from me.

So I flew down to J.B (the pompous, paranoid KLite in me gives an affected shudder) for a day and night with the celebrities, the media, the 'industry people', and the Hennessy crew who looked after us very well indeed. All fifty of us took over the entire plane which might as well have #TeamHennessy painted across the body. We checked into The Thistle and had just about an hour to scrub up and look presentable for the evening.

Rumah hijau (green house) for Hari Sukan (sports day) with Sarah Lian and her friend.

My obsession du jour is crystals, so of course I paired my trusty Saint Laurent Arty ring with By Invite Only crystal jewellery. Their aura quartz necklaces are on my lust list and I love their Instagram posts of elegantly lettered inspirational quotes.

Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows, as always, is about 'The Spirit of Conquest'(a notion I can happily get behind, ha-dee-haha) so the dinner naturally took place inside a 'boat' moored on Danga Bay. 'Windows' around the dining room looked out to the 'sea'. With every course, each from a different country, our view would change as we sailed across continents to the port of the country our dish was inspired by.

I was seated with some of Louis Vuitton's top clients, and was pleasantly surprised to see Robin there acting as chaperone. Robin always looks after me and mummy whenever we are at L.V so it was rather nice (and a little strange) to see him outside his usual 'habitat'. I'm sure he thinks the same of me looking worse for wear after a flight to Johor (yes, it's only an hour, but still).

Suspicious, I texted mummy: "You sent him here to keep an eye on me, didn't you?"

Mummy: "Absolutely. I'm not letting you run around Johor on your own. No, I actually didn't. Get over yourself."

I am adamant that she did ask him to spy on me.

Naughty, naughty Will (I will never forget the passing joke he made about buses and entrances, boy, you naaassty) was our emcee, mais bien sur.

Our first destination, announced with some pomp, circumstance, and fireworks, was Paris.

Cabaret dancers feathered like exotic birds strutted and glided about as we delicately nibbled on our first course.

'Eiffel Extravagance'; scallop, onion, and almost burnt cream.

Delicate, delicious, and tantalisingly moorish (such is the intention of such teasingly tiny portions).

Our second stop was China.

We were serenaded by the strains of Shanghai Jazz as we tucked into our second surprise...

'Orientique Arete'; shiitake mousse, poached duck egg yolk, toasted and sprouted grains.

This was hands down my favourite course.

The shiitake mousse was decadently rich and creamy. But the duck egg yolk was on a whole other level. The word poached does not begin to do it justice. Poached eggs, while seeming solid, spill their liquid guts when you pierce them with a fork. But this egg was neither solid nor liquid. The consistency was more like...gel? What a terrible description on my part! It melted on my mouth but held its form, the texture was so smooth and creamy that every mouthful was a caress on my tongue, and the flavour was ridiculously rich with just the right amount of saltiness.

What sorcery is this?!

Later I learnt from Will that Chef Pham used the warmth of the soup to slowly and gently poach the duck egg yolk to perfection. The constant, moderate temperature ensured a thorough consistency and struck just the right balance between cooked and barely there.

I WANT THIS NOW. CHEF!

Right before this course I moved tables to join the food bloggers. Hennessy wanted me on the celebrity table but of course I'm much more at home with the writers, photographers, and food enthusiasts. I mean, just look at this scene...!

Tau Fu Lou and Kampung Boy City Gal showing you the meaning of Asians at Work.

They bring their own lights to dinner for taking food blog photos!

And here I thought using my iPhone torch was innovative. Don't play play ah, these people have their blogging game stroooooong.

Now I feel like an underachiever.

The third country on our list was America.

A jazz band played while I stared warily at our American-themed course...

'Western Mastery'; sea bass wrapped with savoy cabbage, sauce of osetra caviar, and potato.

I hate cabbage with a passion almost as much as I detest cooked fish. I ate it anyway and managed to keep it down which is the highest compliment as far as cabbage and cooked fish go.

Taking a break to 'yaaaaam seng'!

Don't drink and steer the boat. Also, don't drink and drive, you might just spill your drink.

Group photos with the foodies, bloggers, and food writers.

The fourth port of call was Italy.

We were treated to a rendition of Nessun Dorma which I may or may not have sung along to.

In contralto, not tenor obviously.

'Italiano Regale'; chicken parmesan with mushroom ragu.

I won't lie, this was disappointing.

Next to the delicacy, presentation, and deft precision of the previous dishes, this clunky battered chicken stuck out like a sore deep fried thumb.

However this was no fault of Chef's. He had intended this dish to be sea urchin, but some powers above decided it would be too 'light' for all but the most refined palates. They wanted this course to be heavy, filling, and appeal to the most common denominator ie. dietary restrictions, religious/cultural choices.

So really his hands were tied, and such a shame, because we all know what he is capable of. The sea urchin should have never been scraped.

Anyway.

Our fifth and final dot on the map was Japan.

Our Japanese experience came all the way from the Land Of The Rising Sun itself.

The Japanese drummer, and his Malaysian partner-in-crime (is that the appropriate term?) whipped us all up in a frenzy with their impeccable control of the drums.

More than just thrashing about and making a whole lot of noise, these instruments involve a whole lot of finesse, a delicate touch, power, and the most incredibly rhythm.

I was mesmerised as the drumming grew in strength and sound, from a soft yet steady footstep to thunderbolts that filled up my body and shook me down to my very soul. It was very hypnotic, even more so as sakura petals floated across the screen. The ultimate symbols of mono no aware (Japanese; awareness of the transience of all things), coupled with the beat of the drum expanded in my ribcage like a heart ready to burst like a declaration of love for something so profound that no words would do, just a single silent tear.

Just before I was overwhelmed to the point of no return, the sweet strains of the flute snapped me out of my trance and gently eased me back into reality, reminding me to finish my pudding.

'Nippon Delight'; Umbeoshi (Japanese plums) sorbet and yuzu mousse.

The saltiness of the umeboshi, the tartness and sweetness of the yuzu were the perfect comeback from the chicken, and a flourish to end the night with.

Chef (second from right) looking pleased, as he rightly should. Well done, Chef!

How much does Ken Vin look like his twin? Are there actually two of them, and has the cognac have me seeing double?

By the end of dinner everybody was a little sleepy from all the food and the cognac...

...but I got dragged to the impromptu after party anyway.

As per Tau Fu Lou's suggestion we should have gone to this amazing place that serves duck, duck innards, duck skin, everything about the duck what the duck you talking about? or this kuay teow place or we could go for Johor laksa. I suggested doing all both and then jet skiing across the causeway, without passports, into Singapore. Failing that we could smuggle ourselves in durian trucks. Under the durians.

But noooooo we had to go to Aruku, the 'most happening club in J.B'.

Of course we had never heard of it.

Neither had our taxi driver. "Mana?""Abuku! No...Shinjuku? Harajuku? Wait, it's Aruku!"

The most happening nightclub in Johor; translation, ah beng/ah lian central.

I warned everyone that my inner tai ka je would emerge after a few drinks "Lei tai mat yeh, sei bat poh?!" until Steve Yap, handsome reformed ah beng, told me that it's not Cantonese but Mandarin that they speak in J.B.

Nak jadi ah lian pun tak boleh. Fail betul. Tak apalah, jadi rempit saja. Bahasa Melayu saya boleh pass.

Chef Pham exhibit A. He had a great time.

All night he made me take a thousand photos of him with so many different people "Hey, sous chef! Over here!"to the point that my memory card malfunctioned; when I tried to transfer the photos to my Mac I actually lost about a hundred photos. I blame Johor. And Chef. Thanks a lot. Probably for the best, some of the photos on my camera should never see the light of day.

Suspicious 'non-alcoholic' drinks.

Chef Pham exhibit B.

Shots after shots of Hennessy and I could barely open my eyes. I wore glasses and flip flops to the most exclusive nightclub in Johor because nice hair, don't care.

Chef Pham exhibit C.

Chef Pham exhibit D, with his bros, gazing adoringly at the rapper. Sweet, sweet bromance.

I don't know who this uncle is but he is a legend. Thanks for the laughs.

Steve Yap, proof that I am not exclusively attracted to non-Asian men.

But seriously, the one rare time I meet a Chinese man I am attracted to (criteria; taller than me, strong bone structure, broad shoulders, must be able to grow a beard) and he is married. But that didn't stop all the hussies in the club from throwing themselves at him. *glowers*

Chef Pham exhibit D, or is it E, I've lost count...

Chef Pham exhibit E?

Ending this post with a picture that sums up my entire experience at Aruku.

T'was an interesting evening and worth postponing my return to London for.

Thank you Hennessy for looking after me, especially Thrishie!

See you next year.

↧

La Plage by Bacanal

April 28, 2014, 6:14 am

≫ Next: On sexuality and Coco De Mer.

≪ Previous: Hennessy X.O Appreciation Grows 2014 in Danga Bay, Johor