New Year's tea party at Tammy's place, thought I had too much make-up, ended up seeing very many women wearing more celebratory hues. Guess I want to look pretty does not flex up or down due to aging, originality, macro economic or seasonality. Here is my favorite look of this season, after the peasant girl look from last year -
Jcrew's white tank (oh yeah, only Jcrew does it)
Yes or No gray sweater with a plunging neckline over the tank (thanks to Iris)
AF Emma jeans 00 with striped belt
Dark gray plaided scarf (1999)
Kenneth Cole black angle boots
Black coat (all mine are black at the moment)
Kate spicy line PK-1
BB sepia eye gel (yes, start to wear heavy eye liner)
MJ the night of tokyo (shimmer and shimmer and shimmer)
Smokey looks in general
LV mono linen (not mine yet)
Botkier (but not this season)
Coach black and white tote
Coach key chain
Bad Boys II (2003, upbeat)
In my mind (Pharrell Williams, 2006, more upbeat, and upbeat only)
Managing strategy risk (CEB, bedtime reading material)
American Banker
Writing them down, I'm seeing a change in clothes. If I loved the sky, I must be preparing for landing. I'm only buying things from white to black on a grayscale + navy, and hate to wear anything else other than jeans. In the MCA all hands, I was surprised to see Alihan wearing a designer suite paired with jeans standing up there talking about building the A team, interesting that men's fashion does not have a linear relationship with the born books. The legendary mike cannot look too right for me because of a lack of something in his air, maybe that air only exists in the new yorker, unfortunately that can be true.
Other side of the town, mom was real busy meeting up brothers and sisters, giving me every little detail of the cousins, second cousins, third cousins ... many of them wear very fashionable clothes, I smiled, benign smiles, really. I know what it is like, as long as we like our own looks, we'll be confident and will pull it off.
It's steaming for me to wear grays, jeans, smokey looks, and of course, lounge clothes, still searching.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
|| 6 1/2 Street
During a mix up MUA swap, I was astonishingly looking at my own address from eight years ago, well almost mine, looks like my way of writing it anyway -
1621 S Center ST
Terre Haute IN 47802
It is strange how we meet people, such a random, yet so ironic as if things have been arranged to take their places in great order to show up at one time in one place. I wrote a sweet little note to Jamie that I knew where she lives, and it's the 6 1/2 street. Only those who live there care about the number identity in that small town, yes, we are stuck between the 6th and the 7th. I was then living in Esther's place at # 1107.
Oh, it brings back memories, but there is the unprecedented clarity now that everything and everybody has revealed themselves. I love that house, the kitchen, the sofa, MTV (that was when I got addicted), the cat, the dog, the yard, two staircases, the bedrooms, my room, the bed with white linen beddings, and the people for sure. The street had been very quiet, although there were several fraternity groups on the way to the campus. There were flags outside the houses, occasionally the young and the restless would sit outside the porch, along the roads, with beer bottles. No, they were not drunk, I'm not exaggerating, they looked serene, sombre, but very easy. There was a charm to it that I cannot use any words from my vocabulary to express what it was like. Funny that I didn't know Abercrombie (can't afford it actually), but they were beautiful people to watch.
It is unfortunate that I often referred to those years, 99-00, as the hard years - no money, not knowing a future, hours split between school work, graduate assistance work, and waitress in the chinese restaurant during the weekends, no more and no less. It had seemed that I did not have a single thing when I just realize that those were the best years of life. There was disappointment, but never dismal; accidents, but never close to death; lonely, but never without company; boring, but never bored to death. I chatted with Jamie, her place is actually farther away from the campus, but all of a sudden, it strikes me that the street had been doing every good for me, for my life. Interestingly, I could only remember the summer time and weather, although I'm pretty sure that I had been there in the winter as well. But summer time, just as the summer time, it was a temporary stay of my life that I can be idle, that I have not thought about anything sophisticated, and did not have to face off tragedies and betrayals.
I did stare into the air or the darkness a lot, and perfectly remember the moments, walking out of the chinese restaurant, while waiting for the pick up car, I watched in a very serious way into the darkness, into the cars speeding on the 3rd street, into the lightings in the far side, wondered what was happening in the other side of the globe. Take it off, girl. I'm saying it to myself, I should get going, for the perplexity, for the I don't know, I should just lock the door and toss away the key. I know I will never return to the 6 1/2 street, but I am finally starting to see the clarity, what was going on, what is going on, everyone, everything, no stares, no guesses, no nothing, no shit ... how ironic that it should come back again at this time of my life when I finally know.
Terre Haute still doesn't have Nordstrom, it remains a simple and easy and little town of itself. I'm grateful that it came back again, in a better way or shall I say that the past is always dear to me as I grow older. The present has too much of a mess to deal with and pass by, so it can never be great. However, I'm satisfied that I lived on the 6 1/2 street for a time and it became part of me.
1621 S Center ST
Terre Haute IN 47802
It is strange how we meet people, such a random, yet so ironic as if things have been arranged to take their places in great order to show up at one time in one place. I wrote a sweet little note to Jamie that I knew where she lives, and it's the 6 1/2 street. Only those who live there care about the number identity in that small town, yes, we are stuck between the 6th and the 7th. I was then living in Esther's place at # 1107.
Oh, it brings back memories, but there is the unprecedented clarity now that everything and everybody has revealed themselves. I love that house, the kitchen, the sofa, MTV (that was when I got addicted), the cat, the dog, the yard, two staircases, the bedrooms, my room, the bed with white linen beddings, and the people for sure. The street had been very quiet, although there were several fraternity groups on the way to the campus. There were flags outside the houses, occasionally the young and the restless would sit outside the porch, along the roads, with beer bottles. No, they were not drunk, I'm not exaggerating, they looked serene, sombre, but very easy. There was a charm to it that I cannot use any words from my vocabulary to express what it was like. Funny that I didn't know Abercrombie (can't afford it actually), but they were beautiful people to watch.
It is unfortunate that I often referred to those years, 99-00, as the hard years - no money, not knowing a future, hours split between school work, graduate assistance work, and waitress in the chinese restaurant during the weekends, no more and no less. It had seemed that I did not have a single thing when I just realize that those were the best years of life. There was disappointment, but never dismal; accidents, but never close to death; lonely, but never without company; boring, but never bored to death. I chatted with Jamie, her place is actually farther away from the campus, but all of a sudden, it strikes me that the street had been doing every good for me, for my life. Interestingly, I could only remember the summer time and weather, although I'm pretty sure that I had been there in the winter as well. But summer time, just as the summer time, it was a temporary stay of my life that I can be idle, that I have not thought about anything sophisticated, and did not have to face off tragedies and betrayals.
I did stare into the air or the darkness a lot, and perfectly remember the moments, walking out of the chinese restaurant, while waiting for the pick up car, I watched in a very serious way into the darkness, into the cars speeding on the 3rd street, into the lightings in the far side, wondered what was happening in the other side of the globe. Take it off, girl. I'm saying it to myself, I should get going, for the perplexity, for the I don't know, I should just lock the door and toss away the key. I know I will never return to the 6 1/2 street, but I am finally starting to see the clarity, what was going on, what is going on, everyone, everything, no stares, no guesses, no nothing, no shit ... how ironic that it should come back again at this time of my life when I finally know.
Terre Haute still doesn't have Nordstrom, it remains a simple and easy and little town of itself. I'm grateful that it came back again, in a better way or shall I say that the past is always dear to me as I grow older. The present has too much of a mess to deal with and pass by, so it can never be great. However, I'm satisfied that I lived on the 6 1/2 street for a time and it became part of me.
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