Curses and Candor

my Man: first look at Ryan Reynolds as Green Lantern!!

2010-07-20T20:57:00.005+08:00

Tuesday

First look at Ryan Reynolds as Green Lantern!!

via Entertainment Weekly July 23

GREEN LANTERN will be a movie trilogy, the first installment of which will see the light of day in June 2011, directed by Martin Campbell who gave us the spectacular Casino Royale. Other than Ryan in the title role, the cast will include Blake Lively, Peter Sarsgaard, Tim Robbins and Angela Bassett.

Excerpts from the article:
Ryan, on the incredible stunts he had to perform:
"The first time you do it, you're deeply considering an adult diaper."

On merchandise potential for the movie:
"There'll be Green Lantern hubcaps. The Green Lantern terry-cloth onesie. The Green Lantern prostate check."

On what he'll take away from the experience:
"I'm definitely leaving with a ring. And maybe an ulcer."

I'm not so sure about his mask, it looks too painted on. Here's a comparison between different incarnations of the comic book hero:

I'm leaning towards the one in the middle but have to say the movie costume looks cool. Urgh, have to wait a whole year for the movie! But all's good :)

A.

my Man: "Buried" movie posters

2010-06-07T14:06:00.002+08:00

Monday

Slated for a possible Autumn release, Ryan Reynolds' upcoming movie "Buried" made a huge impact at Sundance this year. The general premise of the movie is this: Ryan plays a character who is buried alive with but a lighter, a faulty flashlight, a knife and a cellphone in the coffin with him. Apparently, Ryan is the only actor we get to see in the entire movie.

The film was directed by Spanish newcomer Rodrigo Cortes, who had nobody but Ryan in mind for the role after watching the actor in "The Nines" (easily my most favourite Reynolds movie). When asked how he came up with the idea for the movie, the director replied, "I thought: 'What would be the cheapest movie to make ever?' I just thought of smaller and smaller locations, and less and less actors."

Though the movie is entirely Ryan in a coffin, with (as the director confirmed) only the lighter or cellphone light providing illumination throughout, critics and those lucky enough to catch it have described the movie as being "intense" and "gripping" (that last one quite literally, because even by end of the movie, people found themselves still gripping the arm of their theater seats).
The Sundance crowd gave it a rousing applause.

You don't need me to tell you that a movie that is all Ryan beginning to end is my kinda movie. But I'm not really here to talk about the movie (though I felt it necessary to keep you in the loop with an intro).

One other element that has helped to create buzz for the film is its poster. Actually, make that posters.

The one above is the official poster -- I like how they incorporated the flame from the lighter into the typeface, and how (as with the other posters), you don't really see Ryan's face anywhere. Here's another:

Prior to these, a couple of other designs were made. I find them to be really exceptional, harking back to Old Hollywood, when graphic design played a crucial element in movie posters. These are the kinda posters I want as art on my walls:

This one reminds me of Six Feet Under.

Apparently those two designs were rejected but recently, a new poster design has been released as another official "Buried" one-sheet:

Like the yellow one, this one reminds me of Hitchcock, of "Vertigo" in particular by graphic designer Saul Bass.

And just 'cause, another "Paper Man" poster to complement the one I already posted :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights for these images. Simply sharing :)

A.

Something up my sleeves

2010-05-07T19:57:00.002+08:00

Can't exactly remember how I stumbled upon the website SleeveFace, but you gotta admit, these shots are pretty cool. The attention to detail - from the clothes, to the poses and the concept and props - and how they interpret what is a simple album cover portrait into something unpredictably funny is just inspiring.

To those with a vinyl collection at home, it's time to get creative!!

A.

my Man: poster for Paper Man

2010-04-27T13:20:00.001+08:00

Tuesday

Movie poster to another Ryan Reynolds movie out last year, where he plays another superhero. Kinda.

Paper Man.

A.

my Man: fan art Green Lantern movie poster

2010-04-18T20:30:00.003+08:00

Sunday

By now, you've probably heard it already: Ryan Reynolds will take on another superhero role. Following Hannibal King in Blade Trinity, then Deadpool from Marvel, Ryan will now go green as DC's Green Lantern, beating out fans' hot pick Nathan Fillion and industry frontrunner Bradley Cooper. Good on ya, Ryan!

Movie is in production now, to be released in Summer 2011. Until then, a fan came up with this beautiful gem:

Here's hoping the movie will look this yummy ;)

(poster by Hzak on Deviant Art.)

A.

25 things I learned in the past 12 months

2010-01-29T19:40:00.005+08:00

Friday

Though the previous year feels less volatile than its predecessors, it wasn't without its highlights and drama. It's always fascinating when I learn something new in the process of adding another year to my life.

1. A kiss is not just a kiss - if there's no fire there, there's not gonna be sparks anywhere else. And I'm not even talking about sex.

2. Just because something looks good on paper, there's no guarantee that it will be good in real life no matter how hard I want it to work out. It doesn't mean I should go changing my checklist. Just that sometimes it's less about mathematics but more about chemistry.

3. It may eat into my wallet but nothing beats having my own place to call home.

4. It may eat into my wallet but nothing beats the thrill of a beautiful pair of shoes. (But don't I learn this every year?)

5. Even when I forget Him, He doesn't forget me.

6. Though I have a great home and a cool job now, what still makes me feel like the luckiest boy in the world is the people I have around me. I could be homeless or jobless but they would still make me feel like a million bucks.
(Though I wouldn't mind trading one of them for a million bucks. I'm kidding. ... I'd trade more than one of them.)

7. Though said people primarily consist of perem-bods and perem-gilz, pseudo-Ivy leaguers, Beyonce wannabes, cradle-snatching boyfriend-stealers and closeted-but-dont-know-it-yet Kayans who try my patience if not my sanity, I'm still the luckiest boy in the world.

8. Cindy, Linda and Nora Ariffin should go on vacations together more often.

9. I still feel like a teenager around my parents.

10. I still don't see myself as an adult. I feel I am eternally a boy.

11. The higher the pedestal, the further the fall: even heroes make mistakes.
Just because somebody makes a bad choice, it doesn't render them a bad person.

12. But when somebody is not my hero and they make bad choices, yes, they're bad people.

13. Difficult clients are not bad people. They're just the bane of my existence.

14. Speaking of bane of my existence... when some people just don't get it, they just don't get it, and I can't do anything about it. So they can come up with whatever fabricated excuse they want to tell people in order to make them feel good about themselves - it makes no difference to me.
(And for the record, I do know what I want. And no, you're not it. But I sincerely wish you the best out of life all the same, no hard feelings.)

15. It's really really sad when someone who should know better, doesn't. Not sad for me, but sad for them.

16. Age does not promise wisdom. That comes from experience, and more importantly, learning from experience.
(And it's really really sad when people who should clock in more experience than I have appear to have not learned anything at all. Of course, not sad for me, but sad for them.)

17. I am not judgmental. I am VERY judgmental (but with good reason).

18. I am still a geek at heart :)

19. Christian is the most beautiful boy in the world - EVER!
(Well, second only to AH).

20. AH still makes my heart go a-flutter, dammit.

21. I have seen enough mermaid gowns to last me two lifetimes.

22. Nothing is more disgraceful than 3 gigantic crystal bowls stacked on top of each other posing as art.

23. Taking your photo (without a measure of irony) in front of 3 gigantic crystal bowls stacked on top of each other could actually be more disgraceful than 3 gigantic crystal bowls stacked on top of each other posing as art.

24. Regardless of the predicament, there will always - always - be comedy.

25. Editor? Yes. Stylist? Sure. Amateur graphic designer? Perhaps. Die-hard shopper? Of course. But above all else, I still feel most comfortable just being a writer. I just wish I have the motivation and comfort to do it more often. Let's see if I'm motivated this year.

A.

Smurfs Wars

2010-01-15T19:35:00.001+08:00

Friday

What would The Smurfs be like if it carried a more mature story line, defined by love, jealousy, sacrifice and the quest for justice?

Brazilian artist Marcelo Braga has an idea for such a graphic novel. Though it still remains just an idea, he has drawn movie posters to illustrate the feel of such an epic. If you're interested in reading his plot for the story, go to his blog. If not, take a gander at the posters.

A.

"A breast with a boombox": Quotes on Madonna

2009-11-26T19:11:00.005+08:00

Thursday

The other day, out of randomness, I was moved to find this quote Tupac Shakur once made about Madonna. That pursuit would lead me to other quotes by other people. Some, I've read before, but the bulk I've compiled here are new to me, including words from a handful of the most unlikely of sources - who'd have thought that Confessions on a Dancefloor would become a favourite of Glenn Close's??

But to start things of, here's a quote from the lady herself, one that I find so hilarious and very characteristically Madonna:

(When asked what she used to draw as a kid)
"I used to draw people naked all the time in my art class and my nun teachers used to tell me I had to put clothes on them. So I just drew lines around their bodies. See-through clothes."

“Today is late Sunday and I just returned from the show of Madonna. And what did I see? A young 50 year-old dancing like a child, a queen, a teenager. It got me thinking about the fact that I believe we are aging differently from the previous generations. I remember for instance my parents at the age of 50 and they were already old, and more importantly they considered themselves as already old.”
- author Paulo Coelho, referring to the Sticky & Sweet tour. This was written on his blog and – to his surprise – prompted 152 responses discussing society’s perspective on aging

“The history of women in popular music can, pretty much, be divided into before and after Madonna.”
- Susan Sarandon

“Madonna is the speedboat, and the rest of us are just the Go-Go's on water skis.”
- Liz Phair

“She transcended being a pop star. She drew international attention and shone the spotlight on a level of racism and the need for greater education. I don’t have an agenda, Madonna doesn’t have an agenda. We aren’t politicians.”
– Ethan Hawke, on the plight of Romany gypsies that he and Madonna supports

"She's a manifester, if there ever was one. First-rate manifester. Madonna makes things happen. Put Madonna up against any twenty-three-year-old, she'll outwork them, outdance them, outperform them. The woman is broad. And, of course, here you go: I still love her. But she's retarded, too.
– Guy Ritchie, post-divorce

“I was letting people dictate who should be my friends. I felt like because I was this big Black Panther type of nigga, I couldn't be friends with Madonna. And so I dissed her, even though she showed me nothing but love. I felt bad, because when I went to jail, I called her and she was the only person that was willing to help me."
- Tupac Shakur

“I love her, I adore her and I respect her. I pity her for all the analysis she has to put up with.”
- Sinead O’Connor

“Working with Madonna is something to tell to your grandsons.”
- Daddy G. (Massive Attack)

“I don't think the music business, as far as females, would be anything without Madonna.”
- Mary J. Blige

“She's incredibly brave and she's got a real mischievous quality about her. I find her very compelling, really daring.”
- Björk

“I only met her once, at a premiere. I was waiting outside with a group of people, surrounded by photographers, and she was walking towards us. I said, ‘Madonna, come here,’ because she looked so alone, and we were photographed together. She was charming and very respectful to me, but you know, she looked very lonely.”
– Sophia Loren

“Madonna has made it difficult for the rest of us but even if I gave myself another five years I'd never be able to fit into that bloody leotard!”
- George Michael

“Madonna's the Queen of Pop, I'm the princess. I'm quite happy with that.”
- Kylie Minogue

“...I think Madonna might be the only person my girlfriend would forgive me for straying away just overnight with – because I think she'd do the same.”
- Damon Gough (aka. Badly drawn Boy)

“She's the perfect guest - but she did spill coffee on my white carpet by knocking a mug off a keyboard. I was amazed at just how well, using only a kitchen towel, she could draw the coffee out of the white carpet. The technique she had was to never rub, just to gently pad the carpet with the kitchen towel.”
- Stuart Price (producer, Confessions on a Dancefloor)

“I was trying to make a case for Madonna the other day, saying that she's to be admired for her longevity in a genre that has mostly been for younger acts. Men are able to sustain a career into their 50s and 60s and still present themselves as sex symbols. With women on the other hand, people say, 'Why doesn't she retire?' It's just so unfair. So I have to give props to Madonna.”
- Tracy Chapman

“I once had dinner with Madonna and I wasn't nervous but within about a minute I found myself talking about underwear.”
- Randy Newman

“After our kiss, Sean (Penn) texted Madonna and said, 'I just popped my cherry kissing a guy. I thought of you. I don't know why.’ ”
- James Franco

“[Madonna's] a talented tart.”
- Pat Boone

“She was doing a dance and she was naked under her coat. Over the course of the dance, she became inspired and opened her coat, and there she was. She has an extraordinarily beautiful body, like cut out of ivory. One day, when I'm old and I'm wheeled out on my porch wrapped in a blanket, if I have a beatific smile on my face, I'll probably be thinking of that.”
- Al Pacino

“Madonna as a talent? Superior to all; she is a classic. I wish she would sing the standards. That is what her voice is made for. When she would sing around the house, I would close my eyes and melt. I was so privileged to be there. She never knew how I really felt with her, and to put all the stories straight, those unauthorized biographies are all full of lies. You dummies, don't buy it. I was not her toy-boy, or a gift to her from her brother. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I love you always, lady.”
- Tony Ward

“I admire her so much. She’s like a breast with a boom box.”
- Judy Tenuta, comedienne

“The thing that was imposed on me from the outside was crude and vulgar and distressful to me, and disturbing - that big tits, blonde hair, Diana Dors, blowsy kind of thing. (But) I think Madonna got it right. Madonna claimed it for herself, and I've always admired her for that. I loved that 'Sex' book she did. I thought it was fantastic, because it was a big two fingers up, 'This is my sexuality, it's not what you put on me, it's mine'.”
- Dame Helen Mirren

“She's John Lennon and Yoko Ono at the same time.”
- Jean-Baptiste Mondino, photographer, who also directed Open Your Heart, Justify My Love, Human Nature, Don’t Tell Me, Hollywood

“When we had a break Guy asked if I'd like to meet the wife as she was in the car park and he knew I was a fan. So off we trotted. To be honest, I had the shock of my life. There she was in the back of her Range Rover administering a shot of B12 into the arse of Gerald Butler. Believe me. I was completely stunned to be quite honest, stunned - I mean to throw open the door and see that... I knew it would be magnificent to meet her because she's cult - I mean like Elvis - but the last thing I expected to see was her giving Gerard a shot in his bare arse because he wasn't very well. She does it for her dancers, she's trained doing it, so she decided to do it for the actors as well. She was so cool. She just said to Gerard, 'There you go - bosh! That does it.' And while she was doing that she was talking to me about a load of books I should be reading. I was really thrown.”
- actor Tom Hardy (RocknRolla)

“The album that I have probably played to death though is Confessions on a Dance Floor, it’s just such a joyful album for me all the way through you know…genius, I love it and I think she is a remarkable person, a strong woman and that's empowering… I have Confessions playing a lot in my dressing room, you know, singing and rolling my arms to Hung Up gets me in the mood to go shout at people as Patty Hewes.”
- Glenn Close

“It was terrifying, It was like kissing the Eiffel Tower in terms of how famous she is.”
- Mike Myers

“Do I think she's a great performer? Yes. Do I think she's a great actress? No.”
- Jennifer Lopez

“I’ve always said that Madonna has gotten a bad rap. She was the only actor who knew what she was doing in ‘Dick Tracy’. She was my favorite in ‘A League of Their Own’. If I had something right for her, I would totally cast her.”
- Quentin Tarantino

“She's the only person I've ever approached - she had such an impact on my life as a kid. Our family had handled my mother's death in a traditional, never-speak-of-her-again kind of way… (Madonna) was on television talking and singing songs about how her mother had passed and how sad she was. And it dawned on me ‘Oh, that’s what happened to me, my mother died’. And it makes you terribly sad and that’s why I’m so unhappy and it’s okay to talk about it and it’s okay to grieve and I should be sad and I should be upset and I should be allowed to go through these things. So I did go through that process because of Madonna, because I saw her talking about it and singing about it, I was able to understand what happened to me and work through it and use my experiences in my favour to give me a lot of what I draw from when I act.”
- Ellen Pompeo

“I proposed to Madonna three times, but she refused all the time. Always in very a polite way. She's the only woman I would ever have married. I find her attractive sexually.”
- Jean-Paul Gaultier

“Meeting Madonna for the very first time was a shock. She was a myth to me. She was the first poster I hung on my room's wall when I was 14. And then I found herself in front of me, shook her hand. Only to mention that the laminated jacket we made in twelve different versions for her last tour ended up being one of the season's best-sellers would be enough.”
- Frida Giannini of Gucci

“I caught Madonna live in Miami last year. It was a kick-ass show; truly amazing. Her stage presence left me speechless, I just loved it.”
- Michael C. Hall, referring to the Sticky & Sweet tour

“You can't imagine how small she is... really small! But she is a sex bomb, believe me.”
- John F. Kennedy Jr.

“I'd like to fix her a big plate of spaghetti.”
- Tori Amos

A.

2009-11-16T19:15:00.000+08:00

I stumbled upon this website while doing research for work. And now I can't get enough of it. So I thought it'd be a cool thing to share.

COLOUR LOVERS is very self-explanatory: it's a site for people who appreciates colours. And be you clothes whore, graphic designer, magazine reader, photographer, painter or whatever, at some level or other you have an affinity for shades and hues, bold or otherwise.

Like most sites, this virtual avenue gives you access to interesting blogs, forums, news and interviews in reference to Colours, whether it's colours in photography, art, interiors, lighting, culture, fashion trends and even music. But unlike most informative sites, it's also very interactive.

Once you register and become a member (or "lover"), you get to play around with the colour features on the website. This among others allows you to choose your favourite colours, and even give names to colours that are without names yet. The fun part for me though is having to create your own Colour Palette.

It's like working on colour swatches for a design project. Here's an example: I was inspired by this picture...

...to create this Colour Palette...

...that I went on to call the "Westwick argyle". And from there I created this plaid pattern:

Or how from this...

... I came up with this...

Alice with flamingo palette

... to create this...

And within just one hour, 20 other members have viewed the pattern! So the site is about the sharing of ideas and inspiration through colours. It can also give quite the ego boost when other members commend you on your creation, heh.

You don't need to create Colour Palettes based on pictures as demonstrated above. Perhaps inspiration will come from the mood you're in, or a fun vacation that you just can't forget, or the weather outside.

It sounds simplistic and maybe I'm just the kinda fella who gets excited about the most inane of things. Still, this website connects you to other creative minds and as someone who is always on the lookout for inspiration or ideas, Colour Lovers is genius. Its features are very straight-forward and user-friendly. Plus, the Colour Palettes or Patterns you create can perhaps then be adapted in the real world as the colour scheme for your bedroom, or business/greeting cards, or the core patterns for your next spring/summer wardrobe. Users are even allowed to save the patterns they make in a variety of sizes, so you can actually print them out - nifty, no?

You'll be amazed at the myriads of ideas people come up with, and the combination of colours that you never thought possible - the possibility is really endless!!

So if you have the time, check it out. And, of course, have fun. If you do decide to open a profile there, let me know. I'd love to see the designs you come up with :)

A.

A Celebration: Why I love Madonna

2009-10-30T18:58:00.000+08:00

This is going to be long. Very long.

* * *

The year was 1985. It was one of those mundane afternoons and somehow I was alone in the living room, propped in front of the television. Which was rather odd because for me to be watching TV in the afternoon would mean it was a weekend and by right the whole family should be home. Perhaps I had ten minutes to myself before anybody else came into view, I don't remember.

What I do remember is watching this blonde coquette in a bright pink strapless gown surrounded by a throng of gents who were so transfixed by her that they couldn't help but to shower her with jewellery. I didn't really bother understanding the lyrics so I had no idea what she was squeaking on about. I was just mesmerised by the whole imagery but above all else the song, a catchy little ditty about living in a material world and being a material girl, snared me.

Though I didn't know who she was at the time, for weeks I would start singing my own version of the chorus: 'cause we are living in a world of joy, and I am a material boy! The song added a bounce in my steps. I was 8. My piano teacher had insisted, “That's not how the song goes!” but what did I care?

And that in itself explains but a fraction of why I love Madonna. She taught me not to care about what people say. Just go on doing what I want as long as I'm enjoying myself and if there's a catchy song to sing while I'm doing it, then by all means, sing and dance to it.

* * *

I grew up listening to bits of Bee Gees, The Carpenters, Air Supply, Azlina Aziz, Francesca Peters, Sheila Majid, Sudirman, Noorkumalasari, Rahimah Rahim, Anuar & Elina. Out of all of those, my favourite was Boney M because their songs made me wanna dance. I didn't know what Ma Baker was doing with her guns or why Daddy was so cool but when noone was around, I'd play that cassette and just dance.
At the age of 10-11, when we followed Pap to Buckinghamshire as he was doing his law degree, I started developing interests in more current artistes because it was what kids at school talked about. And being 1987-88, 'current' meant the Stock, Aitken & Waterman stable. I went wild for Kim Wilde, Mel & Kim, Rick Astley and Bananarama. I would memorise Bananarama steps and then teach them to my girlfriends at school.
Madonna was always in the background but I wasn't truly invested in her yet. La Isla Bonita and Who's That Girl? were big hits then and I liked the songs but I was more interested in Michael Jackson. Nonetheless, I got into Cherish when I was 13 for the very same reasons that Material Girl hooked me. It was 1990 and music had only started to become an integral part of my life with the purchase of my first walkman. I didn't know about Like A Prayer then since the video was banned and I didn't really listen to radio 'cause Mom was in charge of the boombox. But Cherish was regularly aired on TV and that sparked a deeper interest in the singer, partly because the video was directed by Herb Ritts, one of my favourite photographers (it was my fantasy to pose with Cindy Crawford for Herb - that was the year I started reading fashion magazines).

Later that year, that spark of interest turned into a blaze of obsession: Vogue (below) was introduced to the global consciousness, and my life changed.

Who could resist the music video? Shot entirely in black and white, as polished and slick as the stylised choreography, I hadn't seen as spectacular a music video as Vogue. It depicted a confident woman who pulled off various looks and outfits (or lack thereof) with great panache, so confident that she didn't need a bra for her lace blouse. That the video coincided with a cultivated interest in fashion and magazines perhaps influenced the love for the song and video more.
Defined by gorgeous men, mad choreography, pointy boobs and buoyed by one of pop's most delicious raps, Vogue the video was so groundbreaking that by end of the year, Smash Hits called it “perhaps the best music video ever made.” Still, though the video was brilliant, the song on its own was equally excellent and I just had to have the album.

So one night, as the family went out shopping in Wisma Saberkas, I asked Pap if we could drop by the cassette store. I persuaded him to buy I'm Breathless (I think it was RM12.90) and that became my very first album.
We played the cassette in the car on the way back home and when Madonna's voice came on He's A Man (Gun In His Hand), I went all giddy inside. The songs were not contemporary pop by any standards but I loved them. Everybody else though, was sceptic. By the time I'm Going Bananas came on, Mam went, “Are you sure this is Madonna??”

The second we got home, I ran to my room, placed the cassette into my walkman and rewound it to the start again. And here's the kicker: strange but true, at that time I had fallen in love with music from the 30s-40s, the mob era. I think it was due to some gangster movie I saw on RTM, but I didn't know where I could find those kinda songs. Perhaps I tapped into the same zeitgeist as Madonna did for lo and behold, that was exactly the sound of I'm Breathless. I flipped! That week, seeing as the album sleeve came without lyrics, I started going through the cassette line by line and wrote what I deemed the lyrics were. Even when it didn't make sense, I tried to make sense of it (for the longest time, when Madonna sang “Life's a ball” in Vogue, I thought she said “flexible”). Naturally, I'm Breathless remains one of my all-time favourite albums. I can still listen to it from beginning to end without skipping any tracks.

Vogue too easily became an anthem for gay boys across the globe and I'm sure this is true regardless of geography: learning the choreography was not only imperative, it was a rites of passage, the true test of a Madonna fan back then. That song made me realise my love for dance. Madonna made me realise my love – and natural talent – for dance.

And the Madonna momentum didn’t slow down. During the release of I'm Breathless, Her Majesty embarked on the mother of all concerts, the Blond Ambition tour.

Costumes by Gaultier

Dubbed by Q magazine as “non-stop sexual cabaret”, the concert was an eye-opening, jaw-dropping visual extravaganza characterised by elaborate sets, pointy boobs (again), simulated masturbation, a now-iconic braided ponytail and the joy of dance, dance, dance. Rolling Stone proclaimed it “the best tour of 1990.” Though TV3 would go on to air “safe” segments of the concert, a friend somehow found a bootleg video of the concert so we passed it back and forth between each other to learn the steps.

Her image for The Immaculate Collection

A few months after, The Immaculate Collection was released and became, yes, the mother of all greatest hits albums. The album proved to me Madonna’s uncanny knack for a solid pop hook. Though her producers changed over the years, the sound and emotion was still unmistakably Madonna, song after song. The cherry on the cake was that the image that followed this release - a brazen, sexy, slick yet dramatic Madonna – was all captured in black and white by the fantastic Herb Ritts. Growing from strength to strength with each track, the album plays out a sonic celebration of the singer’s artistic growth, with not a weak spot in sight. It’s such a solid album that today, The Immaculate Collection remains the world’s biggest selling compilation by a female artist. Ever.
Along the way, TV2 would air a censored Dangerous Liaisons-esque version of Vogue at the MTV VMAs, still one of her best performances to date. I studied them all. Dance steps from Blond Ambition would go on to become my workout routine: during Matriculation 1 in Kulim, Kedah, when other boys were out in the fields, I would go to this vacant room above my dorm, put The Immaculate Collection into my discman and have my own little Blond Ambition Tour. Dancing to me grew to become sacred: it's one of those personal times when I feel truly alive, when I don't care about anything, when I really allow myself to get lost in the moment. It really does free me. And dancing to a Madonna song wasn't just about dancing – it was also about drama, about emoting through music. About finding emotional closure or celebration through song, if you will.

Naturally, I started working my way through Madonna's extensive catalogue: the Who's That Girl? soundtrack, True Blue, then the sublime Like A Prayer. It was the best time to be a Madonna fan, when Her Majesty was at the height of her career, when nothing she did could go wrong, a reality further supported by the explosive documentary Truth Or Dare in 1991. I also began collecting magazines with Madonna in them. Even when there was only a paragraph mention of her in Smash Hits or TopTen (or Teleskop), I'd buy it. I had a life-size poster of her performing La Isla Bonita on the Who's That Girl? Tour on my bedroom door, and years later one from the Vogue video decorated my wall during Matriculation 2.

I grew to know the woman behind the myth. Her work ethics marvelled me: regardless of how late she partied, she would wake up at 7am every morning to start her day. Her determination inspired me: She was a straight-A student. She came to New York with nothing but 30 dollars in her pocket and a heart filled with ambition, and she ate out of trash bins before becoming the world's biggest superstar. She was a hardworker, a creative force and an underrated talent. She made me think I could make something great out of my life regardless of the odds as long as I believe in myself.

And little did I realise, my love and respect for this artiste became somewhat legendary. At the end of 1991, my fellow Form 2 prefects asked me to perform Vogue at our retirement party – it was the only entertainment that night. When the St. Thomas Red Crescents had their annual Talentime in 1992, our school sent three entries: two group performances, and one reserved for me alone to reprise Vogue, which was also my impromptu performance for the close of our Astronomy course.
My dear friend Abu refers to my mother as 'mak Madonna.' When I turned 20, my good friend Mail and the guy whose room was next door to mine gave me a magazine dedicated to the singer as a surprise birthday present – they weren't even my regular 'lepak' gang. When Evita came out, Arin, Zaqrul, Alek, Bob, Shaz, kak Na, Sarah and even Andee offered to take me out to catch the midnight premiere of the musical, never mind that Bob couldn't stop laughing every time the Malay subtitles translated “Buenos Aires, big apple!” to “Buenos Aires, epal besar!”
When my flight to catch her Drowned World Tour 2001 in California was detoured due to September 11, the CEO of the company I worked for then came up to me during a company BBQ to ask how bummed I was over it.
It was through Madonna that I became great friends with Muzamer, my senior in MRSM Muar, who performed Vogue with me and three of our girlfriends during our Talentime (quite the scandal by MRSM standards. And we won, of course). Madonna also brought me closer to Emi and Doreen when we became classmates in MARA Language Academy because they loved her too. Neyna and I bonded through Madonna.
See, Madonna was not just some celebrity I greatly admired. She became an integral part of the pop culture that defined my formative years.

* * *

One of my favourite comments about Madonna is that “she is interesting because she is interested.” She introduced me to Tamara De Lempicka, Frida Kahlo, Keith Haring, Walt Whitman, Paulo Coelho, Jean Paul Gaultier, subjects of interest that would lead me to Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, Salvador Dali, Modigliani, Pablo Neruda, Rei Kawakubo. I dare say, if it were not for an interest in Madonna, I would not have fashioned a deep interest in art, being a Science student and all.

Lempicka's art featured in the 'Open Your Heart' video

And then, there was the music. Apart from knowing her way around a pop song, the woman sang about Life. Whether she was extolling capitalism (Material Girl), singing about abuse (Live To Tell, 'Til Death Do Us Part), teen pregnancy (Papa Don't Preach), family values (Keep It Together), dance, pain, love, loss, joy, empowerment and despair...good God, did she understand despair (“I'm the Queen of Despair, read my lyrics!”). Never mind that the first half of her catalogue saw her voice sugarcoated with the magic of studio stardust. To me, she sang with gusto, squeezing out every raw emotion from out of her. She sang it from her heart with convincing grit to melodies that were melancholic, defiant or breezy, but always danceable. During the tumultuous period that was the teen years, I retreated to her songs when I was hurt, when the weight on my shoulders became too great a burden, or when I just wanted to die already.

* * *

Admittedly, I'm more of an ardent follower of her earlier stuff. It became harder to appreciate the music after Evita. I still get excited over new albums, but she just doesn't sound the same. Before, I would never skip any tracks from her albums, but now? As triumphant as Ray Of Light was, I could never grow to like Little Star. Music was cool but it had more overrated clunkers – Amazing (a lesser cousin of Beautiful Stanger) and Runaway Lover. American Life had some of the most grating lyrics of her career (“Stupider than stupid”? Seriously?). With age, motherhood and Kaballah, she found herself to be in a position to preach through her songs and took that position too seriously (even in a near-solid dance album such as Confessions On The Dancefloor) which was fine in the beginning but after a while, enough already!
Her lyrics now tend to try too hard to sound symbolic or poetic, coming off as tiresome as the yoga poses she kept pulling off in her videos. I mean, yes, we know you can put your feet behind your neck, but how is that relevant to the whole Sorry video (or 4 Minutes, or Die Another Day)?
After Evita, her singing became very technical, and let's not kid ourselves, she's not the greatest singer out there (though I preferred her version of the Evita songs more than I do Elaine Paige). I just miss the times when she belted out pop tunes with enough character in her voice. I now feel like she's turned into a robot, with or without the vocoder.
Video-wise, she has become lazy. And Madonna is a video artist, so I look forward to be impressed visually. The last time that happened was the original video for American Life and Hollywood. Videos from both Confessions and Hard Candy had the potential to be great but were ‘okay’ at best, and downright uninspiring at worst.

Clips from the 'Hollywood' video (left), inspired by photography by Guy Bourdin (right)

Maybe it's mid-life crisis but ageing has really affected her. She's become obsessed with trying to look/act young and relevant as opposed to just not giving a damn about proving herself. I mean, she's bloody Madonna, she's proven herself enough already! For a woman who insists she doesn't like to repeat herself, she has fallen victim to exactly that: Give It To Me saw her dancing around in a studio before crashing down on the floor in an exhausted heap. Celebration showed the same thing. In Hung Up, the camera was obsessed with her ass; in Celebration, her crotch. In Truth Or Dare, she read a poem dedicated to her assistant, a gesture she repeated in I'm Going To Tell You A Secret. My point being: she's become predictable.. formulaic.. and, as much as I hate to say this, ‘safe’.

Hard Candy was perhaps her most disposable album to date – it sounded less like Madonna, and more like the producers she worked with. The fighter imagery wasn’t well thought out either. That said though, she is still a phenomenal performer. It is through her concerts that she demonstrates why she's a solid artist, pulling of new dance moves inspired by butoh, tecktonic, flamenco or line dancing to produce concert setlists that even those half her age would find themselves struggling through.
But music-wise, there are still marks of her creative genius… until she goes and records something as throwaway as Revolver and I can't help but think: “Why is she trying to be Britney or Rihanna? Hasn't it always been the other way round??”

Still. In spite of whatever qualms I have for the woman, I love her. I believe she puts the ‘art’ in ‘pop artiste.’ She still pushes buttons and challenges perception. She still breaks records and she's still in control (unlike Mariah, Whitney, then Britney, Madonna has never gone to rehab). When her contemporaries – Michael Jackson, Prince, George Michael, Lionel Ritchie, Whitney – have yet to see their careers blaze again like they once did, hers is still burning bright. And in spite of the public’s constant assertion that Madonna’s the inferior singer or artist, albums the likes of Like A Prayer, Ray Of Light and The Immaculate Collection will find pride of place in any Top 50 or Top 100 Albums of All Time list by Rolling Stone, Blender or Q magazines while albums by Whitney and Mariah hardly (if ever) make the cut.

So when her latest Greatest Hits package, Celebration, came out, I’m moved to write down my thoughts on this woman. The task to compile all her greatest hits is an impossible one because 1), she has too many and we’re bound to overlook chunks of it, then 2) she has evolved time and time again that her sound has changed drastically from one album to the next that putting them all in one package will risk sounding incoherent. Which it does. This is a collection that will please – and astound - the general public, but not one that would please die-hard, analytical fans like yours truly. On the other hand, it’s not going to matter when I hit the ‘shuffle’ button on my iPod anyway.

* * *

Eugene once asked me what it was about Madonna that seems to fascinate gays. Without skipping a beat, I found myself answering, “Because she's got balls.” Hah! But honestly, being gay has nothing to do with me liking her. I just love a good pop song and I like to dance to them, and more often than not, she delivers the goods. It doesn't hurt that while she's doing that, she tells me to believe in myself, to express myself, to accept the fact that sometimes we get pain but we need to find the strength to stand tall nonetheless. And that it's never too late to try something new. And that image is everything - one has to look fabulous.

My greatest Madonna experience is easily having to watch her perform live on the Re-invention Tour '04 with Lynn in San Jose. Though I've yet to meet her (heh), I was fortunate enough to be able to work with one of her choreographers, Norman Shay, in 2007 - I was the stylist when he was performing in KL for an event.

When I was 14, a friend had asked, “What would you say or do if you were to ever meet her?” My nonchalant reply was this: “I would kiss her royal tootsies.” And mark my words, I still would.

The Abomination: Pavilion Crystal Fountain

2009-08-11T02:45:00.010+08:00

The first time I saw this.. this.. abomination.. my immediate reaction was, WTF?!?

To borrow something from a dear friend of mine: at what point in their lives did the people responsible for this giant piece of crap wake up from their sleep and go, "Bowls! Bowls would make a beautiful fountain in front of Pavilion!"

From a design point of view, it's all wrong, be it in terms of scale, colour, and most of all, context. It has no relevance to its site. What sense would three oriental bowls make in the commercial street that is Bukit Bintang? Its interpretation is too literal. Hibiscus flower, three bowls to represent the three main races living in unity, placed in an ascending manner to signify 'growing aspirations' bla bla bla.. With such a mindless interpretation, I am saddened by the reality that we as a country have not evolved beyond pretentious signs of progress or prosperity. What happened to critical thinking? Or thinking in general? And the hibiscus is said to symbolise opulence and passion. What passion?? I don't feel anything artistically passionate here other than a fervent commercial intent. This is not art. It's an insult.

How big of an insult? Try RM8 MILLION - are you freakin' kidding me?? The sorry excuse of a 'sculpture' is apparently made of crystal - hence the hefty price tag - and was especially crafted in China for a good 18 months.

And the absurdity doesn't stop there:

In typical Malaysian fashion, the fountain is now the tallest crystal fountain in Malaysia, as approved by the Malaysian Book of Records. Wow. Surely the previous record holder is shitting bricks now that his millions were spent on something second-rate in comparison. I'm surprised the fountain didn't get a bonus credit as the country's Largest Crystal Bowl. And of course they want us to throw coins into the damn thing - they want their RM8 million back.

Yet apart from mediocre design and weak concept, I find the fountain's inexcusably bodoh attribute to be its purpose, as voiced by one Governemtn minister. To quote The New Straits Times: Describing the new sculpture as a key landmark in Malaysia, (the minister) says it could stand tall among other world-renowned iconic fountains such as the Trevi Fountain and Four Rivers Fountain in Rome, which are popular tourist attractions.

Are you effing kidding me?? Can you hear the Romans - and the rest of the world - laughing at such a grandiose delusion? [Trevi fountain pictured below]

"With the installation of the Pavilion Crystal Fountain that reflects our
nationalistic ideologies, now there's one more reason to visit Malaysia."

But of course. This is why people visit Malaysia. To throw coins into our fountains. I can just imagine Middle Eastern families and backpacking South Americans excitedly planning their next visit to KL when news of this new fountain gets out. How their friends would envy them when holiday photos are shown of them posing - in great wonderment - by the Pavilion Crystal Fountain. 'Take that, Trevi!' the photos would say.

Oh, kill me. Kill me now. We can't even compare this to Singapore's majestic Fountain of Wealth (below) yet we have the audacity to rob Rome of its fountain-loving tourists? In the words of the city's happy community: Feeeeliinnng...!

See, bad design riles me up, especially when it's public design or public art. To think that for a second there I thought nothing could be as hideous as that banal pitcher plant fountain in Dataran Merdeka. Then this monstrosity cropped up to prove me wrong.

I mean, how difficult is it to commission one of our local artists to create a sculpture/fountain at a tiny fraction of that RM8 million? Or to get a design firm to execute something contemporary to complement Pavilion's structure, similar to Kuching's very own Hornbill Fountain (below) maybe?

And I love Pavilion. How it upsets my stomach that from now on, whenever I make my trip there, I'd have to puke first before I walk in.

A.

P.S. A friend made too viable a postulate: the Pavilion fountain could have very well been design by the same architect/designer Ayah Pin used for his Sky Kingdom (below). That explains it, no?

Of prose and cons: "Scum"

2009-07-16T18:44:00.005+08:00

I have not written a poem for too long a time and I just happened to chance upon this little something while I was clearing the room that is to be my study.

I laughed when I reread it because it took me to a time some 5 years back when my then hopeful heart suffered the painful stab of deceit. Too naive for my own good back then, I didn't quite know what I was getting myself into; ensnared by a pretty facade that in reality was nothing more than plastic. Duped by whom I thought to be a gentleman but in reality was closer to a coward. Played by an opportunistic scumbag.

And how I have learned.

That's all in the past though because we get along okay now. I harbour no ill will -- I just simply accept him for the plastic that he is :)

"Scum" (2005)

Cast away the mask, will you?,
don't fool me with pretence.
I'm grappling for some logic here
since nothing makes much sense.
I've lost all shred of dignity,
abandoned each defence.
Mistaken what is casual
for something more intense.

Wipe away that smille, will you?,
it hardly looks sincere.
Its sweetness tastes like venom now,
its charity a sneer.
That warmth you safely hide behind
is meaningless, I fear.
Whatever cause for liking you
now lost to me, my dear.

Peel away your arms, will you?,
just free me from your hold.
Your act is uninspiring,
your tenderness feels cold.
The whole routine of playing nice
gets tedious and old.
Mocking this demeanour
I am struggling to uphold.

Played me all you could, eh dear?,
so cunning was your art.
Ensnared me with your gentle ways,
you fooled me from the start.
Ignored me so conveniently,
how swift your change of heart.
To lose concern with how I feel,
to leave me ripped apart.

Have you lost your balls, my dear?,
amid all this debris?
Too empty is your soul to care,
too blind your eyes to see.
You're not the man I took you for,
that man you'll never be.
I doubt that you're a man at all
for you're just scum to me.

A.

Falling down ain't falling down
If you don't cry when you hit the floor
It's called the past cause I'm getting past it
And I ain't nothing like I was before
You ought to see me now.
- Alicia Keys, "Lesson Learned"

Sneak Peek: Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland (out 2010)

2009-06-22T20:37:00.007+08:00

It's still a long way to seeing Tim Burton's interpretation of Lewis Caroll's classic fairytale on the big screen. But howsabout some sneak peeks, eh?

Here's my girl, Anne Hathaway, as the White Queen:

Heavenly.
And here's Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter:

Scary.
Then Matt Lucas of Little Britain as those portly twins..

Uncanny resemblance one might add.
Alice is played by Australian actress, Mia Wasikowska.

But what of the fiercest character of them all? One has to ask, who makes a better Red Queen?Helena Bonham Carter:

Or John Galliano??

Can't wait for the movie. Calloo callay!

A.

my Man: Ryan Reynolds on FOUR(!) Entertainment Weekly covers

2009-06-22T20:14:00.002+08:00

I have no shame.

I strongly believe that in some parallel universe, Mr. Reynolds and I are destined for each other. It was a crush developed back in the Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place days, then progressed to unhealthy measures with Blade: Trinity (hubba hubba) before evolving into genuine respect and admiration with TV movie School of Life. Then The Nines came along, proving that the guy is one of the most hugely under-rated actors of his generation, and my respectful fixation was sealed.

Or maybe it's just my thing for tall guys, heh. With abs of steel. And dry wit.

Anyhoo, feast your eyes on these:

Sigh.

And inside:

This is about damn time too. The Sexiest Man Alive cover should be next. Mark my words.

But yeah, sure. It's easy to fall for the cobblestone abs and boyish smirk, but I know very few actors who can do drama, romantic comedy, goofball comedy and action just as effectively as Ryan. Hugh Jackman comes to mind, and maybe Will Smith. I guess Ryan should try a musical next.

But my man is as comedic a writer as he is an actor. Read one of his articles for The Huffington Post here.

A.

Love - who's to say?

2009-06-01T19:38:00.000+08:00

May 27, 2009

prelude
“Do you think I can make a good boyfriend?” he asks.

The conversation thread of the night had followed the common pattern of work-life-relationship, so I'm not surprised by his query. I am surprised though, by my decision to go diplomatic.
“You're only as good as your expectations,” I hear myself say. “See, each relationship is unique. I mean, what I look for and expect in a relationship is perhaps different from what you look for. The question is, are your expectations similar to your boyfriend's?”
“Heh,” he chuckles,”you are such a politician.”

“Okay,” he continues, not letting the subject slip off too easily. ”when we were together, did you think I was a good boyfriend?”
Oh, fish kebabs, I thought. My smile is pursed. His are eager, innocent even, complete with twinkle in the eyes. “Well... we broke up didn't we?” I offer.
He laughs, “Hahaha! Yeah, I guess we did.”

“But I'll tell you this though,” he picks up again, “since I'm being honest, and I think you have a right to know anyway...”
“Yes...?”
“I did really love you..when we were together.”
I didn't see that coming at all. Some significant level of affection, sure, I felt that when we were together. But 'love'?
“Oh,” is my response. Huh?, is my reaction.

Funny how some people find courage only after the relationship is over.

* * *

I can't remember the last time someone told me straight to my face, without obligation, past or present tense, that they love me. With enough honesty for it to actually carry weight. And without me secretly thinking, 'Uh huh. Yeah, sure you do.' It's a cushy feeling to hear someone say it.

Almost with every guy I've been with, I would always pose them the question: do you know the difference between 'cinta' and 'sayang'? People use the word 'love' with such wild abandon that they strip it off of its romance. That being said, 'cinta' is different to each individual so any effort to give it a universal definition would be like wearing nipple tape: pointless.

I have a friend who takes 4 weeks to fall in love – if it doesn't happen then than it's never gonna happen, he says. One other friend can take a weekend, then falls out of love after 3 weeks only to fall in love again with a different guy another weekend. Some other people take a lifetime to fall in love. So who's to say that each form of love is not genuine?

Then, throughout my very laughable history in couplehood, four guys I've dated had vehemently insisted, in one form or another, that they were “so in love” with me only to not realise that they were actually in love with my sex than anything else. Whatever trace of smart conversation or common sense dissolved once I answered their carnal calls of the boudoir (or living room, or washroom). Every date after became grounds for sexual innuendo while each persistent phone call, text message or instant messaging gave way to curiousity over whether I was naked or not at the other end of the line. Every one of them. Every phone call. Every message. They didn't understand that their being 'in love' was in actuality being 'in lust.'

But again, who am I to say that their feelings weren't genuine?

So I haven't the faintest idea how people would define or understand love. But I do know my thoughts on it.

Now, I can't remember what it was like the first and second time I was in love. But that third time... that has taken pride of place in the annals of my three-decade history.

It was 1997, what I now refer to as my Black Period, the year when I turned anti-social and became a recluse. The day I realised I was in love was a Saturday because I didn't have classes and the lads in Kota Bharu didn't have classes either. Handphones had just started to infiltrate everyday life back then but never one to conform, I was the guy with plenty of loose change in his pocket. It was late afternoon and I had just finished calling Zack in KB from a public phone in Desasiswa Bakti. And as with every chat with Zack, I was left feeling fantastically buoyant.

It was a glorious day. The walk from Bakti was met by a bright island sun and calm sky as the breeze shook leaves from the trees lining the path along Cahaya, where my quarters resided at the very end of the path. As I turned into that path, two girls were having difficulty starting their motorcycle and had asked for my help. Unfortunately, Arin had yet to teach me how to ride a bike let alone start one.

After several failed attempts with that ignition-pedal-thingy, I left them with an apology. After a few feet away I laughed to myself, at my own incompetence. And it was a year when I rarely laughed, so coupled that with the buoyant mood I was in, and the gorgeous summer day, I suddenly felt a swell in my chest. Then, out of nowhere, his face played in my mind.

And my heart just stopped. My feet had ceased to walk and there I stood in the middle of the street, physically stunned. I felt great ache under my ribcage. It felt as if a phantom hand had reached into my chest and gripped my heart, slowly - ever so slowly - tightening its hold. I couldn't breathe. I started gasping for air and almost doubled over.

Seconds felt like eternity as my visions blurred but then as sure as it began, my heart picked up again. The ghostly hand had loosened its grip, finger by finger, bringing my heart back to life steadily and surely. I felt as if my senses were heightened. Like the time when I got high on some really good stuff. Blurry images sharpened to reveal a shower of leaves falling around me still. I could see every fold and every leaf vein and branch above me in their brilliant shades of green and yellow like never before. Sunlight never looked and felt so beautiful.

I started breathing again. And all that time, his face was in my head.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. What the hell had just happened? And I couldn't shake off his face in my head either. But then, it all made sense.

Good God in heaven, I have fallen in love. With him. And I didn't see it coming at all.

* * *

Nobody is greater a cynic than I. Perhaps my naturally expressive nature or overtly creative imagination exaggerated what science or medicine could probably explain better with regards to what happened that day. But it's a feeling I have yet to experience again.

And that experience helped me understand my take on love. There's this saying that I hold to heart: “Love is giving someone the power to destroy you, but trusting that they won't.” It's all about trust, and respect falls into my equation too. To me, love doesn't happen at first sight. Love does not have a calendar. Love doesn't involve multiple sex partners. Love isn't about whether I'm naked at the other end of the line or not.

Love is about accepting someone for who they are, not who you want them to be. And about being who you are, not who you think your partner wants you to be. Love is about wanting to go the distance without asking for something in return.

The kind of love I look for is one that catches me off guard, one that could stop me in my tracks. One that could jolt my heart and make me see the beauty around me in a new light.

The kind of love I look for is genuine. By my say. But what do I know?

* * *

epilogue
“So what you're saying is,” Alek voiced one night, “if by some miracle, or in a parallel universe, he were to suddenly turn around and say, 'Oh, aku buta selama ini. Ziz, you're the one!'; that would be it huh?”

I don't understand why Alek conceives my life to be all about drama when he's the one who is more prone to exaggerated dramatisation, as he was demonstrating then. There's a drag queen in there somewhere.

“That would be it,” I echoed. “I would drop everything, regardless of who I'm with. Unless, of course, I'm with Ryan Reynolds..”
“Oh ya, of course,” he intoned sarcastically before turning his head to the side, muttering, “and that's another parallel universe...”
“Oh shut up!”

“But, man... so all he has to do is say 'yes' and your life would be perfect then, huh?”
I nodded.
[Cue more dramatisation] “An asteroid could be on its way to destroy the earth, or you lose your job and live on the street..tapi happy lah kawu?”
“Yup.”
“Wow,” Alek concluded. “Bodo kawu oh?”
“Kimaaaaaak!!”

“You know it's never gonna happen, right?”
“You never want me to be happy, do you?” I accused.
“No lah,” he said, adopting a softer tone infused with mockery. “I don't want you to get hurt bah.”
“Yeah, I know,” I replied, “but what we have now is fine with me. He loves me in his own way, to the best of the capacity that he allows. You know?”
“Yes, now I understand” he said. “Both of you are bodo.”

*images are art work by Steve Walker at http://quest.sasktelwebhosting.com/

A.

styling: Laura Laine for Muse magazine

2009-05-08T12:32:00.009+08:00

A colleague of mine introduced me to the works of 24-year-old Finnish fashion illustrator Laura Laine.

Whimsical yet hauntingly beautiful, her drawings are just spectacular on their own. But when paired with irresistible fashion products in a fantasy editorial for Italian fashion/art mag Muse? Sublime!! I can look at her drawings over and over again, at the waves of hair and fabric, eyeing her precise attention to detail.. hypnotic is what they are.

and here's one wearing Balenciaga from a few seasons back:

Scoot over to here for more.

A.

Ibrahim Hussein: of an untimely passing and timeless passion

2009-03-26T18:02:00.013+08:00

It was a Monday when I finally managed to meet up with my friend, architect Zaini after weeks of rescheduling. We were in his office, dreaming out loud about starting up a project together, aimed to merge the world of interior design with the world of fine arts. One name dominated our conversation: Datuk Ibrahim Hussein.

The last time I met Ib – as he was affectionately called – was last November at the KL6 showcase of the Malaysian International Fashion Week. The artist and his lovely wife Sim were there because designer Melinda Looi had created a collection inspired by Ib’s signature lines (a collection that had me half excited, half cringing; right pic).

The couple were by themselves in the empty lounge area, away from the crowd downstairs, so I was more than happy to have them to myself. ‘Cause you see, I love Ib and Sim. They were my favourite couple ever. They had always been a down-to-earth pair, engaging and funny and had a zest for life that had always left me feeling inspired.

So after that Monday with Zaini, I figured it was time to arrange a meeting with Ib, just to catch up as well as to share with him what Zaini and I had talked about. But truth be told, I believe one of life’s greatest treats was having the pleasure of being in the company of Ib and Sim. I love listening to their stories. And to me, Ib and Sim embodied all that I value and respect in Love. To watch them was to see Love at its best. It was endearing and genuine an experience to behold. Jenjen and I once agreed that if we were to fall in love (not with each other, of course), we’d want it to be just like Ib and Sim.

Little did I know that on Friday evening of that week, Gramps would call, bearing grave news. “Have you read the papers?!” he began.
“Nope,” I answered. “Been a busy few days. What’s up?”
“Ib….. [static noise].. day..”
“Hey, E. You’re breaking up. I can’t hear what you’re saying...”
“Ibrahim Hussein. The artist,” he reiterated. “He passed away yesterday.”

* * *

23 August 1999. It was a good decade ago when I first stepped into the Ibrahim Hussein Gallery and Cultural Foundation in Langkawi. The trip was organised by my design lecturers and as a late bloomer of the local arts scene, I didn’t know much about the artist back then. This attractive woman, Sim, had welcomed my little group into the building and proceeded to give us a private tour. The more she spoke, and the more paintings I saw, the more I became enthralled by the artist’s sheer genius. Ib’s signature lines gave depth to form, evoking emotional response through precise details. To think that I was never that big a fan of abstracts or mixed media.

Lucky for us, Ib himself had dropped by the gallery later that day (above pic). He was delightfully unassuming, soft-spoken but animated. It was like hanging out with a favourite uncle. And as eager students are wont to do, we bombarded him with questions about his work, his inspirations, his philosophies. I had asked him this: what is the secret to your success? “There is no secret,” he replied. “All you ever need is passion. As long as you are passionate about what you do, as long as you’re sincere and willing to work hard for it, success will eventually come, in whatever form. But you have to have passion; and, you know, have fun while you’re doing it!”

At that time, I thought I wanted to become an interior designer and believed I was passionate enough about it. But with Malaysia still affected by the Asian economy crisis the year I graduated, seeking a place in a design firm was beginning to feel like a lost cause. So after seven months of unemployment, desperation made me abandon my supposed passion to instead accept a position as a corporate ant. What followed was the most uninspiring year and a half of my life as the corporate culture ate away at my soul bite by bite. But it was peachy an arrangement: the pay was good, the bonuses better. [left pic, "Alé - Alé (1996)"]

And I could still very well be stuck in the rat race today had it not been for a near-fatal car accident in 2002. I had suffered temporary memory loss and the car we were in was later declared a total wreck. It was truly by the grace of God that my friends and I survived it. It was a miracle. That tragedy was my ultimate wake-up call. It made me rethink what I wanted out of life - and no way was I going to die an Agency Development Executive from Prudential!! So I asked myself: what is my true passion? Long story short, I resigned from my job and eventually realised that what I’ve always known, what I’ve always wanted to do, is to write. So I became a writer.

I was lucky enough to have been employed as a writer for an interior design magazine some months later. It felt as if the cosmos was in alignment with my dream. Then, in my third year as a writer, I was assigned to write about an exceptionally striking contemporary home near Bukit Pantai. Its owners? Datuk Ibrahim Hussein and his wife Sim. It had warmed my heart that they were still the same fantastic couple I had met some five years before. And thanks to the assignment, I was privileged with having to spend more time with them, talking about art, Langkawi, design and architecture, the places they travelled to, their “friend, Andy Warhol”... After the few afternoons I got to spend with Ib, I began to realise that apart from his remarkable art, it was his personality and his approach to life that inspired me. [right pic, "Cambodia (1998)"]

One afternoon, Ib had asked me about how I got to be a writer so I recounted to him the tale of my accident.
“That is really fascinating!” he reacted. “So you have found your passion?”
“So I have found my passion,” I nodded.
“Good for you!” he declared, offering that signature smile of his.

That was when I started to regard Ib as one of my personal heroes. If I were to ever attain even a sliver of his level of success, I hope to be possessive of his brand of humility, warmth and zest for life. His untimely passing is a great loss to all and my heart and prayers go out to his lovely, lovely wife Sim and their daughter, Alia.

Datuk Ibrahim Hussein(13 March 1936 – 19 February 2009) Potrait by wazari

Now, it is not my intention to craft a sombre entry. On the contrary, I believe that in death there is still, ultimately, life; the joy that it brings, the beauty that it inspires, the opportunities that it promises. Datuk Ibrahim Hussein’s life as a painter was not without its hardships but his journey taught me that even when the going got rough, there is still so much to look out for in life, as long as you have passion for what you are doing.

Life is short. If you’re doing something, be true to yourself and be passionate about it. And as Ib once advised my 22-year-old self, just remember to “have fun while you’re doing it!”

Here’s to my hero. Amen.

A.

Birthday 2009 - part 8: gift from the parents

2009-02-05T03:55:00.003+08:00

From sister Marge:

Feb 1, 2009
Been having really shit personal problems (as per usual) so forgot your birthday. Sorry. Looks like you had a pretty good one nonetheless :)

And Pap is in town -- finally -- but he will be staying at the hotel for a month while I get the apartment ready in time for him to move in. And though it's been years since he did so, he got all smiley as he presented me with a box.
"Since it was your birthday, so I got you this when I was out buying a new bag," he said.

I have not worn a watch for all these years, thinking that one day I would get to wear the Baume & Mercier Pap once allowed me to wear as a teen. But that was stolen more than a year ago so I never did wear another watch because the ones that I do like, I can't afford - yet.

But this (left)? This is a beauty!! All I can say is: I thank God for giving my dad a sharp sense of style. I believe that's where I got it from. As for the more flamboyant side of my style sense, that's all Mam.

Speaking of which, we called her during dinner.
"Did you get the watch?"
"Yes, Mam, I did."
"Do you like it?"
"I really like it, thanks!"

The last time the parents gave me a gift to commemorate a special occasion was perhaps a pen or mobile phone (that belonged to Mam) when I graduated. That and a laptop. And now this, this is the kinda timepiece that I would probably get for myself. Unpredictable, classy, distinctive. So this is pretty cool. Way cool. 32 is a good age alright :)

A.

Birthday 2009 - part 7: party #3 at Delicious

2009-01-31T10:57:00.003+08:00

Zai roped in Ezwan, Zaki, Neyna who was in town for his dad's medical procedure, Mijie and Adly for the dinner he organised in Delicious, Bangsar Village II. Guy and Yanie couldn't make it and I invited Fari and Kast -- who was coincidentally in town -- along. A small crowd, because one, I didn't want it to be too big a party, and two, because Zai didn't have all the numbers of my dearest (sorry, Jas!!).

'Twas a simple gathering of fabulous peeps peppered by Ezwan's bimbo moments and Neyna's loud personality. And then there were the gifts:

Ezwan got me this (left) a couple of weeks back when we were checking out Bimba & Lola in Pavilion. I have a lot of bags already but I've always been on the look out for something resembling a traditional briefcase. And when Ezwan saw this, we went all gushy. The corduroy pattern reinterprets the look and the colour is just alluring. And it comes with a shoulder strap to turn it into a messenger. I love!!

Kast and Fari got me this cutie (right). Though I don't associate myself with stuffed toys anymore, this one is just so adorable. I'm guessing he's a bear but the ears look like they belong to a mouse. I am calling him Bolhassan for now because I like that name for some reason. He looks kinda sad, like he has issues. Which is part of the reason why I can relate to him hahaha...

Mijie excused himself in the midst of dinner to drop by Dude & the Duchess to get me these (left). I've been eyeing these since they first came out but thought they were a bit much to spend on something I won't be wearing as frequently as most other items of clothing. Rather unconventional colours, but hey, it's me we're talking about here :)

I really didn't expect Zaki to get me anything because he's not wired that way and I'm okay with that. So it was cool that he still got me these. Simple gifts but I gotta tell ya, I love socks (right). I can never get enough of them particularly because my shoe collection is expanding now and I need more socks to mix and match with. These are cool.

Sometime halfway through dinner, Zack called. Remembering the rather uninventive text message he had sent, I chose to be difficult.
"Give me one good reason why I should be talking to you right now...," I began.
Then out came his voice, "Happy birthday to you, happy bithrday to you..."
I could tell he was smiling the whole time, and when that was done he switched to 'Allah selamatkan kamu.' Sigh. I melted there and then.
"Sorry lah, I've been busy," he explained later. I could never did get mad at him for too long.

There was another message or call I was hoping to get before the night gave way to a new day. True enough, at around 11:55pm, Guy called.
"So you had a good day?"
"I was wondering when you would call!" I hollered. "You almost missed it by 5 minutes."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. And Zack called me earlier and made up for a lousy SMS by singing me birthday songs. I was hoping you would be more creative."
"Great. You're pressuring me now. Surely nothing I can do can beat his singing?"
"Good point. So are you going to tell me your leaving my sister for me kah?"
"Iye deh! Funny lah you."

I really have a soft spot for Guy. We met exactly 14 years ago, on my birthday, at the airport where we ended up sitting in the same aisle on the plane, then lived in the same dorm, mucked about in the same class for two years in Muar followed by another three months in an English academy in Cheras before meeting up with each other again during matriculation in Kulim, Kedah, followed by those crazy years in USM, Penang. As far as best friends go, he is my most constant. We were in the same debate team, briefly 'formed a band' together (hyuk hyuk) and get up to crazy things that I don't do with my non-hetero friends.

"Oh hey, before I forget," he said as we were ending our conversation, "happy birthday, Ziz."
"Thanks, Guy. I'll catch up with you soon yeah?"
"Alright. Goodnight now."
"'Night."

A.

Birthday 2009 - part 6: FB shout-outs

2009-01-31T01:09:00.001+08:00

On January 29, 2009

Toge (Jakarta/photographer friend) - 1:46am
HAPPYYYYYYY B'DAY...........................................................MWAH MWAH

Zai (BFF/USM,Layang Sari/roomie) - 7:52am
hAPPY fABULOUS bIRTHDAY hOMMIE!
bEAUTI-FOOL aLWAYS!
gOD bLESS U!
XOXO
aLWAYS hAVE aLWAYS wILLZ.

Neyna (BFF/KL-Kuching/sisters/ex-roomie) - 8:27am
I just want to wish you a happy b-day, may you are blessed with so much love, endless prosperity, eternal success and peace & happiness always...Stay gorgeous & stay fabulous!

Aidot (USM,ex-classmates) - 8:34am
Happy Birthday Aziz! That's right; I still remember yours is 1 day after mine! May you have a great day!

Yanie (USM/KL, partner-in-crime) - 8:42am
Darling...Wish you Happy Birthday yang ke-23! Erk!! I Love you..Muah Muah Muah....My Parents dah tgk gambar you...They like you so much..approve..so anytime you blh masuk minang i!!! Hahahahhahaha!!!! ;-)

Fari (BFF/KL, sisters) - 8:56am
Babes!Happy Birthday! ur fancy oven cum foam machine tu dah siap pasang ke?hehe

Jerry (KL) - 9:09am
Happy Birthday Dear. May you achieve as many goals and look fabulous doing it at the same time!

Kri (BFF/Kuching, sisters/photographer friend - might steal your boyfriend) - 9:49am
another year, another birthday. have fab one then.xxx

Milin (USM/KL, photographer friend) -10:05am
Happy birthday Aziz!!!Wishing you happy days all thru the year.. murah rezki and dirahmati Allah selalu :)

Azman (KL) - 11:01am
Happy BIRTHDAY!!! Here's a toast for many great years to come!Enjoy your day.. :)

Lucy (BFF/JAZINO/Penang, fellow supermodel) - 1:28pm
HappY bDaY C... God GivE You anOther woNdeRful yEar..EnjOy yoUrseLf anD looKInG foRwarD foR oUr tRiP toGeTher..

Ghea (BFF/JAZINO/Lucy’s alter-ego) - 2:10pm
hAppY bDaY to ThE mOsT lucKieSt Kid in ThE woRld

Sya (USM, ex-classmate) - 2:24pm
yello... happy birthday aziz! :-)

Mazri (Dubai/USz/best friend with benefits hehe) - 2:31pm
Happy Birthday dearest!!! May you age gracefully :-P Senyum sokmo!

Nazim (USM/KL, partner-in-crime) - 2:37pm
happy birthday Ziz!always keep that smile k...

Rizal (USz/Doha) - 3:18pm
Happy birthday.. mabrouk!!!

Ezwan (BFF) - 3:27pm
Panjang umurnya..panjang umurnya..serta muuuuliiiiiaaaaa....serta muuuuliiiiiiaaaaa...

Aidid (Dubai) - 3:46pm
Happy birthday Aziz.. semoga lagi tua lagi handsome

Kast (Kedah) - 5:07pm
darling, happy birthday to you!
here's a poem i picked up from d net especially fo u.
I’m wishing you another year
Of laughter, joy and fun,
Surprises, love and happiness,
And when your birthday’s done,

I hope you feel deep in your heart,

As your birthdays come and go,How very much you mean to me,

More than you can know.
By Joanna Fuchs

Sham-sham (KL, ex-colleague turned partner-in-crime) - 5:52pm
happy birthday azizah and where the party at? Xoxo

Zack (BFF/LOML) - 11:13pm
HAPPY BDAY CAYANG

Emma (USM/Layang Sari) - 11:35pm
I hope its not too late to wish happy birthday! Hope you had a great day today

Elymaton (USM/Layang Sari) - 11:43pm
Salam... happy birthday & many happy returns!mmuuaaahhhhhh!!! XOXOXO

Jiman (KL) - 11:55pm
Like oh am gee!! Like seriously, have I like forgotten to, like wish you?? Like I really should already right? I mean, like, duhhh! But like, I kinda hope it's not like, too late or anything. So anyway, like happy birthday to you. Here's wishing you all the love, and success, and wealth and health, and laughter and like, all good awesome stuffs! Like, cool. Take care okay.

On January 30, ’09

See Ming - 5:48am
Happy birthday!!!

Lan (USz) - 10:43am
babes, happy bday. i cant believe i missed it! :D anyway, u had fun i'm sure. when's our private session again - dinner i mean. hehe. btw, remind me to get the toy story book from you when i see u. cheerio.

Happy 32 bday to one of my best supermodel pal. Stay gorgeous and al the best to you.. love, Linda E.

Sam (Kedah) - 11:09pm
aziz, happy birthday to u dear, many happy returns =) .. mwah

Birthday 2009 - part 5: when the SMSes start coming in..

2009-01-30T04:03:00.004+08:00

Neyna called sounding chirpy and all, which was a good thing 'cause it forced me to wake up and get ready for work. She's a God-given, that girl. Checked my phone and no messages came in. The phone was obviously all jammed up due to Yus' texting. Sigh.

Got to the office and logged on to FB and Asri ping-ed me:

10:52am
ajiz :D
don’t shoot me if I got this wrong .. isn’t it your birthday today?
10:55am
haha
yesh it is :)
10:55am
ahhh ... happy birthday then :D
10:55am
thanks, big guy :D
10:55am
actully my wife reminded me .. hehe .. yeah i know .. its pathetic :P
10:55am
haha, cemane dia tau plak?
10:56am
zack was mentioning it to her

I was in a jolly mood to be productive so got some work done. As the day was coming to an end, messages backlogged from last night started coming in simultaneously. Got off early because I was psyched about cleaning up my new apartment and even went out for a swim in the pool. Zai was planning a dinner with a group of friends to celebrate later this evening so I went to get my hair cut. Told my barber to go all punk with my head but instead of the usual rectangle in the middle, he asked me to try something a little more unconventional, shaving off my sides in a circular kinda cut, leaving a somewhat aerodynamic centre. I like it.

Then my phone came to life and the messages started pouring in.
[NOTE: message - person (affiliation)]

Though the first official SMS that came through the night before was Ezwan's, judging by the time it was sent, this was the actual first SMS sent to me:

Happy bday - Nas (ex)
I didn't expect him to remember, so as succinct as the message was, it warmed my heart a bit. It could've been more personal but I wasn't surprised that it wasn't. Sweet still nonetheless.

Happy birthday to u, happy birthday to u, happy birthday to aaaziiizzz, happy birthday to u!!! - Nisa (USz)

Happy bday! - Zack (LOML)
I did not expect this one to be impersonal, so I was a tad pissed by that...if anyone was supposed to make me feel special, Zack was it. Bastard.

Hapi birthday my fren.. ;-) wish u panjang umur murah rezeki - Milah (Agensi Milah)

Happy birthday u royal gorgeousness!have a good one today! 32 is such a beautiful number so enjoy it. speak to u later k. lots of luv xxx - Kri (BFF)

Happy birthday! muah :)
xdpt ku merik bingka kinek tok, kch banjir lagik. Kelakku molah bingka Oreo. My new recipe! - Epen (JAZINO/BFF)

Aziz, happy birthday!!! Semoga panjang umur, murah rezeki & bahagia selalu. - Sarah (USz)

Mmm.. Let's see.. Happy 32nd birthday. May your dreams come true & may you find happiness always. Wekkk.. Skema tak? Hahaha... - Yus @ Awang (BFF/USz)

Happy bday dowh! dtg umah k sabtu tok. - Yus @ Adly (BFF)

Happy birthday 2u, Happy birthday 2u, Happy birthday 2 Aziz, Happy birthday 2u! Best wishes & hope that u have an enjoyable celebration. - Joe (HC)
This was from a colleague of mine - easily the message I least expected, if expected at all.

Wishing you a wonderful and happy birthday today! :-) Is it your birthday??
I guess it is your birthday, so.. Happy birthday sweetie!!! :) muahs! - Andre (MP)

Happy birthday! - A-ah (sister)

Babe, happy birthday! I've transferred to the new phonw but didn't transfer the birthday reminder! Happy birthday again! - Zaki (USz, BFF, ex-roomie)

Happy birthday toots! And happy moving house - Viv (Hyper gang)

Z! I'm driving! Happy birthday bitch! - Geek aka. Sam (Hyper gang)

A.

Birthday 2009 - part 4: party #2 at home

2009-01-30T02:25:00.003+08:00

Yus was the first to call. He phoned at the very stroke of midnight, which was also the very moment Zai and Mij broke out into song.
"Berapa orang yang nyanyi tu??" Yus asked.
"Dua orang!"
"Hahahaha! Bunyi macam ramai je! Well, happy birthday, dear.. nak aku hantar SMS ke? Well, since ko selalu post kat blog kau, aku hantar jer lah yer? hehe"

To my surprise, Mij and Zai had bought an ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins and somehow managed to smuggle it into the house without my knowledge when Mijie dropped by earlier. It was a banana strawberry Oreo cake. Tasted a tad..peculiar.. but it was sweet all the same.

Zai decided to record the celebration and Mij was trying his best to be butch -- needless to say, to laugh-out-loud results. Having to laugh my ass off with close friends is the perfect way to celebrate, if you ask me.

Mul went out to see dek Ya at the clinic because his back was giving him trouble again but they came home together to join the 'party'.

Zai presented me with this:

I knew what was inside because I picked it out, heh. But to take effort in wrapping it up and all, that was golden, but then again, that's Zai :)

I was thinking about getting this for myself but Nora then offered to get it for me as my b-day gift. I know I have quite a number of zipped-up jackets already but this one was different; more biker jacket, less structured and brimming with attitude. The striped lining sealed the deal for me.

Then my phone beeped and I thought it was Yus with his text message.

Happy bday! Hope im d 1st 2wish! Have a great one babes. may Allah bless u alws..lots of love.. - Ezwan (BFF)

I felt all mushy inside :) And then I realised something.

Though it works perfectly most times, my phone would start misbehaving the moment Yus or Nas tries to text me. I have no idea why those specific two are singled out, but such is the fact. And seeing as Yus' message never came in, I thought, Shit. Now all the wishes people are sending me this very moment are going to get clogged up and I'll only get them tomorrow noon.

Oh well.

I feel great though. And I thank God for that :)

A.

Birthday 2009 - part 3: cards and gifts from the 'family'

2009-01-29T02:52:00.001+08:00

This was the card the 'family' got me:

The messages:

ZZZZZZ! Oops, fell asleep there. HAPPY B'DAY Ah Boy! - E

Love you really! Happy 22nd... - Lena

Z BABE,
Happy sweet 18 again...how many sweet 18 ar?
Love, J

Dear Miranda,
Happy birthday!! - Weelie

Much love - Ro-ro

Z Darling,
There's noone else I'd rather have as a lesbian lover!
Love ya, Jen-jen

Happy birthday ya beautiful bitch. - Sam

They got me the dress shoes, of course.

This was from Francis:

Birthday 2009 - part 2

2009-01-24T10:53:00.009+08:00

Seeing as everyone will be taking a whole week off for Chinese New Year, the Hyper family arranged to celebrate my birthday a week earlier. They took me to Tamarind Hill on Jalan Sultan Ismail. To think that before the turn of the new year we had off-handedly decided to make do without the usual birthday circus in favour of more intimate functions with close 'family' members in the comforts of someone's home with home-cooked meals. Yeah, sure.

Still, Tamarind was niiiiice...

The stairs leading up to the restaurant (left pic) brought about a romantic vibe, it felt as if it took me outside of the city and into a fantasy plane. You know, after having to tackle KL traffic, to suddenly find yourself walking languidly up a set of stairs amid lanterns and candles.. it's almost magical like.

Inside, the ambience was intimate, warm and soothing (below). Didn't feel like we were in the dead centre of KL, almost felt like we were on holiday. Food was generally delectable though we all thought the tom yam could've done with a little bit more kick. The chicken with century egg and duck with pomelo salad were especially tasty.

The dressing theme for the night was Cluedo -- we had to dress up in monochromes referencing the boardgame's central characters. I had a choice between red or white but there was no way I was going to be Mrs. White, so... Did try to get hold of red pants and found a pair of fancy striped city shorts in Pavilion but the only sizes left were fat. Which was a good thing because the restaurant didn't allow shorts in, and you gotta wear a shirt with a collar too. And it was MY birthday dinner after all so I was forgiven for not going scarlet top to toe.

And this was what the gang got me:

A gorgeous pair of black patent shoes to go with my tuxedo! Woooohoooo..! And I get to switch between a choice of black or blue laces. You gotta love versatility. The blue makes the shoes pop out more. I like :)

Gerry was in the middle of a shoot and wasn't able to make it, but he did text. Ben, who I was supposed to end up snogging (purely for kicks, mind), was a no-show too but he did call so that was sweet.

Dinner was followed by 2009's first karaoke session at Pavilion but the night felt incomplete because they didn't have the song that inadvertently became my signature number: Karyn White's Superwoman. Apparently, the first time I sang it, it was so convincing and emotive that it caught everyone by surprise -- even Gramps commented on how my vocal lilts and afflictions were spot on. My reasoning? "I have issues!"

Indeed.

A.

via SMS:
Happy big b day aziz! Sorry cant make it. Just finished la. Gong xi fatt chai ya. Catch u soon! - GrrGrr, photographer friend

Of table manners and Birthday 2009 - part 1

2009-01-22T20:32:00.004+08:00

There was a lot to do before the Chinese New Year holidays hit so I was proud of myself that I managed to squeeze in two photo shoots into my schedule before the week ends.

I roped in Ya to help me go collect products on Tuesday, finding our way to the newly revamped Bangsar Shopping Centre (outside looks cool, inside still pretty much the same), then Taman Desa and eventually Pavilion to collect products (below) consisting of crystals, glasses, plates and other pieces. All fragile and rather heavy.

The first shoot was for HC, and I called it Table Manners. It was to be a product shoot consisting of tableware involving three different settings. To make things easier for me and Chris, I had decided to use my rented apartment as the location. Zai really spruced up the place throughout our stay here so there were more than enough corners for me to manipulate.

So Setting 1 was by the blue wallpaper we put up for Raya, just outside my room, with the old table Ya brought in from his old place. This was to be a romantic and somewhat decadent setting:

Setting 2 was against the beige wall in the living room anchored by a white tablecloth covering the coffee table. I wanted to create a clean atmospehere for a breakfast setting and borrowed stainless steel with porcelain toast rack, teapot and cup & saucer:

Lastly, for Setting 3, I used some gold damask I got from Kamdar and stuck that to the wall to mimic wallpaper, then placed the loose top of the rickety table we use in the kitchen on top of the coffee table. This was for a more opulent setting, and the light blue tabletop gave a great contrast to the gold wall:

The second shoot was for SP, and so I won't have to borrow from too many brands, I chose to feature drinking vessels. Since SP is more high-design and high-concept, I wanted the spread to be clean but art-sy. I envisioned the featured goblets to be surrounded by lesser glasses that are smashed, cracked or shattered. Thinking that concept might require more work and mess, in the end we kept it simple by just playing with the strong backlight then added character and whimsy with some food colouring.

The result? A spread that was a cross between Mondrian (three basic colours) and Pollock (a whole lotta mess). It was the juxtaposition of organisation and chaos. One of my most favourites shoots yet!

Chris and I finished in 6 hours for both shoots. That's what I love about working with Shooter. We relate to each other on an aesthetic level and play off each other when it comes to ideas. And because of that, we works really fast because we both know what we want the end product to look and feel like. It's a partnership, which is an important golden rule for such a job: Every stylist has to have a photographer he can work brilliantly with -- and vice versa.
It's but a bonus that we've become good friends too. Since he was unable to join my birthday dinner tomorrow, Chris bought me tiramisu cake as well as a card and gift.

The card:

The gift:

The cake:

A splendid way to wrap up a tiring day, I would say.

A.

Dying for Deadpool

2009-01-19T05:09:00.010+08:00

Comic books used to be one of my great indulgences. I used to be a really big fan of the X-Men but keeping up with the various story arcs and titles can take a lot of of ya. Back in the day, comic book stores were abundant, but eventually they would close down or move elsewhere so I would miss out on a few issues and lose the plot subsequently. Which is such a bitch. Ditto when favourite titles -- Generation X in particular -- go through too many writers and pencilists/inkers that it's original magnificence is later tarnished by moronic plots and characters. So after a while, comics became too tedious an effort to bother with.

So thank heavens for movie adaptations. I grew up with some of these characters so when I get to see familiar and favourite characters come to life on the big screen, I sometimes get all nostalgic about it.

But movie adaptations at times have their drawbacks: damn you, Brett Ratner, for butchering what could've been a masterpiece trilogy!! I also blame Halle Berry for making the 3rd instalment of the X-Men movies the disappointment that it was. But I won't go into that.

Fortunately, things won't stop at X3. It warms my heart that we will get to hear and see more of Marvel's multitude of mutants. Another X-movie will be out this year i.e. X-Men Origins:Wolverine. And it looks better than X3. Way better.

Now, apart from seeing the X-Men saga unfold again on the big screen, Hugh Jackman alone is as good a reason as any to get my butt on to the movie theatre seat. Or so I presumed. Jackman may very well get top billing for the movie but chances are I'll be getting myself wet over somebody else: Ryan Reynolds. Whoa mama. My numero uno fantasy man. He'll be playing the wise-cracking mercenary Deadpool (right pic), which I personally feel is spot-on casting.

But I'm not here to share with you my fantasies (well, not now anyway). What I do want to share with you superhero/X-Men fans is this, something I came across just yesterday:

The movie looks good already, no? If you've not seen the trailer, scoot over to this

link and be prepared to be blown away. The special effects and action sequences look jaw-dropping -- and Gambit makes his screen debut (finally!). My girl Emma Frost aka White Queen will be in it as well. Movie will be released on May 1st, 2009.

And since I'm all self-indulgent like:

Those arms, that face, that bod. Sigh. Hubba hubba, come to mama.

A.

the new love of my life

2009-01-16T02:38:00.009+08:00

A while back I made it known that the love of my life is my new apartment. I think I spoke too soon because as of now, I am enamoured once again. My heart is such a fickle bitch, I know.

Behold:

Tadaaaahh!! What's better than a new apartment? A new apartment with gorgeous kitchen cabinets!! The second I laid my eyes on them, I felt a swell in my chest and a tear coming. Thing was, since the contractor took longer to complete them due to a slight miscalculation coupled with a plumber who has yet to make an appearance, I just wanted it to be over and done with already. So I expected nothing more than functional doors and ample storage space. I just didn't realise it could be this beautiful. Especially since the schematic drawing looked like this:

But Izad -- the contractor -- did such a good job at Lan's place, I had complete faith in the guy. I always root for those who do it old-school anyways.

I insisted on black and white though Izad suggested that wooden hues were the more popular choice. But my instinct said to "go with Chanel." The result? Très Chic!

That gaping hole at the bottom is where the oven will go. I may not be a culinary genius just yet, but dammit!, I will BAKE! I vow to be the best darn master-baker this side of PJ!! ;p

Well, to be honest, the oven was partly for sister Farah because she likes to experiment with baking.

The faucet needs to be moved, hence the need for the plumber, where ever he is...

And of course, the second part of this tour leads you to:

Every clothes horse's fantasy: the walk-in wardrobe!!

Pants and shirts on one side, shoes and jackets on the other with upper storage for whatever else. Since my precious shoe collection is still growing, this will do for now. Not-so-precious shoes can be kept outside.

Bags can go in the various pigeon holes along with folded tees (colour coded, naturally) while shorts, accessories, 'delicates' and junk can hide it the drawers.

I've asked around and normally kitchen cabinets would cost you around RM6-7K to get done. Mine was about a little over RM5K -- and to think that Izad wanted to throw in a free hood and hob too, so that's a freakin' bargain! But I have my eyes set on another brand so I declined his generosity.

Seriously, if you need a new set of cabinets, by all means, please use my contractor. He delivers within 2 weeks of agreement and took but two days to set everything up for me because he prefabricates everything in this workshop first. The workmanship is meticulous and him and his crew leave very little mess behind. He's a God-sent. Ask me personally for his number - leave your email in the Comments section and I'll get back to ya.

A.

Fashion at the 66th Golden Globes - the oohs and the eews

2009-01-12T21:49:00.011+08:00

Chose to skip work today because I fell sick so thought I might as well tuned into the Golden Globes. And here are my personal hits and misses.

January Jones in Versace. It's quirky and unpredictable yet have a modern feminity to it. I love the blue and the uneven pleats that help to adjust an otherwise boring silhouette. Gorgeous hair. It's like classic Hollywood meets avant-garde Hollywood. And something about the whole dress, hair and make-up looks very ice queen like, and that appeals to me.

Oh mama!

This is just chaaantek! Contemporary elegance that is ultra-feminine as only Oscar de la Renta knows how juxtaposed beautifully with an inner strength like only Keira Sedgwick knows how. The colour is just rich and the details of the bustier and belt complement each other, and Keira's hair is one of the best of the night - she hardly needs accessories because she is just stunning. Probably my second most favourite look.

Oooooh, magical!

I like it that Drew Barrymore was bold enough to settle for this hairstyle: it's fun, it's memorable, it's Drew. Only someone with her child-like personality can pull this off, then paired with such a dreamy, flowy, girly gown by Dior, it's a refreshing take on red carpet dressing. The punch of red in the form of her purse makes for a stunning accent but I'm thinking if she added a slim belt also in red, that would've amped her wow factor.

Ooooh sexy!

Kate Beckingsale in J. Mendal - simple yet sculptural. Almost architectural an hour glass dress - which explains why Shukri loves it :) Love the slick hair, the bracelets and chandeliers. Simple, chic, sexy.

And my most favourite of all:

Melissa George. Not sure whose dress this is by - is it Marc Jacobs? I'm loving the black lining because on closer inspection, the lines resemble hand-drawn marker drawings, giving the elegant dress an off-beat aesthetic. The metallic bits are innovative - it's a sophisticated yet young dress.

And now for the Eeewws...

Seriously? Seriously??

J.Lo is trying too hard in Marchesa - she's obviously trying to stay relevant by reenacting her Versace-Grammy moment. It's like she ripped off the curtains and tried to pull them off as couture. Not flattering, but rather trashy. Eew.

As for Eva, this is predictable. Always with the tousled hair that I feel don't reallt go with the dress. Speaking of which, those extra fabric appears like fashion vomit. Again, eew. Hardly flattering.

But the biggest faux pas, and obviously so:

Renee Zellweger. Honestly, the Herrera top is quite chic, but it doesn't go with the fishtail skirt. Had it been just a pencil skirt or a slimmer long skirt, maybe it could've worked. But then again, that hair. She should've gone with a slicker 'do.

This is similar to the time Charlize Theron wore the green Dior with the big bow for the Oscars or when Nicole Kidman wore that gold-sequined flapper dress: a celebrated actress known for her can't-do-wrong style trying something extremely experimental.

Maybe if the hair was different, this could work still. Oh well.

The very first one

2009-01-10T22:07:00.003+08:00

It was supposed to be just another Saturday spent in the Curve. We browsed through magazines, bought some clothes and was about to meet up with Ezwan for some coffee. Ezwan was already settled at the café and never one who likes to keep people waiting I walked several paces ahead of Zai and Adly who were more leisurely with their Saturday stroll.

I realised we were walking against the rush of people so as I was trying to locate the café, I suddenly found myself stopping in mid-traffic. There. he. was. A vision of beauty walking pass my right. My legs were suddenly rooted to the spot, and my heart flipped, not believing what I saw. Is that who I think it is?? It can't be! I spun around, catching the back of his head as he was talking to his friend. I felt my mouth move, calling out his name but the words formed were without sound. I figured it was because my heart had flipped and somersaulted too high that it was then lodged in my throat.

I found myself turning to Adly and mouthing the guy’s name over and over again.
“Isn’t that…?” Adly asked excitedly.
Yes. Yes, it was. It was the very first boy I had fallen for.

* * *

It was the first day of primary school and Pap couldn’t stay with me for registration because he had to go and send Farah to her school for her first day as well. So I was left on my own. Puan Ngo looked at me and asked me nicely to go find an empty seat. Never one to be naturally sociable, I felt odd and extremely out of place. I thought I didn’t know anyone at that time until this boy, Man, whom I had befriended on the last day of kindergarden, waved my way and called me over. “Hey, you can sit here!” he suggested.

Man and I had gone to a co-ed kindergarden together and on our last day there, we played tag with a bunch of other kids. Funny thing was, when I was ‘it’ I ignored everybody else and all the girls who would’ve been easier to chase because I was only interested in chasing Man around the playground.

Man was a jolly kid. Dark skinned, bushy hair, chubby cheeks, toothy smile, concerned eyes. As I took the chair next to him that first day at school, he turned to me and introduced me to his cousin, who was sitting on his other side. I turned to face the boy…and my heart melted. I was seven.

He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. I was just so taken aback by the sheer purity of his face. Fair skin, high cheekbones, sharp nose, prominent jaw line, floppy hair and perfect symmetry. He looked like an angel. He was handsome, but in the pretty sense normally associated with Middle Eastern masculinity. And there was this air of sophistication about him. In my then young, innocent eyes, he was royalty.

So the boy became my very first crush. I cannot say if I was ever in love with him because -- let’s be honest here -- what would a 7-year-old know or understand about love? But a crush is more short-lived in nature and I was into the lad for years to come. Perhaps what I felt was some kind of an infatuation, I’ll never know. I just knew that looking at him or talking to him got me all giddy.

When I was nine, Mam thought it was time I had a birthday party. So I had invited the lad over, handed him an invitation card and all. But he never came and I remember feeling somewhat gutted by that. But then again, a lot of other friends couldn’t make it as well because unlike the bulk of kids from St. Joe‘s who stayed in Kuching North, my family resided in Kuching South. That’s like staying in Subang but going to school in Bukit Bintang with the majority of kids staying in Ampang and Keramat. So I wasn’t too dejected.

Then I had to move schools but before long found my way back to St. Joe’s again. And whenever I saw him afterwards -- by then already in our early teens -- my knees would go weak. He still looked like who he was when I first saw him, only naturally the features were more mature. And man, he was fit!

But that’s all history now. Prior to Saturday, the last time I saw him was 4 years ago at the Rainforest World Music Fest. I was hanging out with my third-nephew when a coupla guys came by to see him. The apple of my eye was one of them. “Hey, you know him, right?” my nephew had said, and the best I could muster then was, “Uhm. Hey.” This was then followed by my head thumping itself on to a nearby tree. “Look at them,” my friend Shukri had commented, “They’re like the cool kids and we’re the social outcasts.” Even then at the age of 28, my life had felt like a scene from The Breakfast Club.

We were never really great friends, him and I. Just kids who went to the same school and shared the same friends, and occasionally conversed with one another. He was a cool kid, something of a ladies’ man. I remember him having a great laugh, one that was hearty with a little huskiness in his throat. And he had eyes that twinkled, but that could be just me being biased.

I figured I'll probably bump into him again in Kuching one day. But he was here, in of all places, The Curve! And when I saw him that Saturday, he was still the same guy. The beauty of his features were still there -- the cheekbones, the jawline, the chin -- and he was lean and looked well put together. He looked good lah. Since I’m being biased and all, it is of my very personal belief that no guy has ever come close to his beauty -- not then, not now. His face is like perfection with nary a bad angle. I’m not a fan of perfection, but with this one, I surrender.

“Why didn’t you say ‘Hi’??” Adly demanded.
Because he would make a blubbering idiot out of me. He would make me feel like I’m 7 all over again. It’s not like I still have the hots for him or anything, but… I don’t know. Sometimes a fancy or a fantasy is better left as it is, for fear that knowing them better would spoil the make-believe of it all. In a world defined by harsh realities, we need the occasional outlet to be able to dream. I mean, I have no illusions about ending up with him or anything - the lad is straight, after all - but it’s kinda cool to still have a soft spot for him.

But here’s another thing: like most everybody else, I have been somewhat jaded by the whole mating game, or the prospects of relationships and couplehood. I’m not exactly the wide-eyed dreamer I used to be. But as cynical as I tend to come off as now, it feels greatly refreshing that some where, out there, someone still has the capacity to stop me in my tracks. It’s a yummy feeling. It feels great to be able to feel like I’m 7 all over again.

A.

measuring 2008

2009-01-02T03:58:00.017+08:00

“525,600 minutes
525,000 moments so dear
525,600 minutes
How do you measure - measure a year?”
- Jonathan Larson’s ‘Seasons of Love’, RENT

My 2008 in numbers:

At least 500 cups of coffee
At least 125 packs of Dunhill Lights 14

311 editorial pages
33 photo shoots
RM1.4 million in ad revenues

3 pregnancies
3 births
1 hospital visit
3 cases of slip discs
7 deaths
2 funerals
9 times cried in the 24 hours after Din passed away

15 Birthday parties, lunches, dinners, suppers
7 reunions
1 farewell party
4 karaoke sessions
7 pairs of new shoes
1 pair of Bottega Veneta
2 cans of lychees
1 Brazilian wax

5 people I was involved with (none bloomed into relationships)
3 engagements
5 weddings
7 break-ups
4 divorces

1 meltdown
1 hatchet buried

After the brutality of 2007, Life really went out of its way to give me a break last year. I dare say I worked my hardest and because of it I experienced what was the most comfortable lifestyle I’ve yet to taste. Money was generally okay, work was fantastic. And though I was contemplating a return to the convent after the disastrous end to that relationship in 2007, I didn‘t (Shukri would be proud). Sure, I wasn’t my predictably secluded, celibate self but I wasn’t as big a slut as I could be or as my natural sexuality would lead some people to believe either.

The year began with a kiss, and it ended with one too. But if I were to measure the past 12 months as how Larson prescribed i.e. to measure in love, then zero would be the times I was in love. Maybe I came close once, though my logic tells me it was just a heightened, accelerated form of adoration. Not to say I was adamant about being in love last year. To be perfectly honest, I was too comfortable with how Life was playing out that unlike years past Love factored little in the general equation of things in 2008.

And I’m not saying that to make myself feel comfortable or anything, but that was really how I generally felt throughout last year. Any measures of love could only be derived from the poor unfortunate souls who had to regard me as their friend. My family, my glam squad, my posse. Ezwan, Zaqrul, Alek, Asri, Dzul, kak Na. Zaki, Zul, Yus, Kairul Nizam, Lan, Mahadzir, Mazri. My lesbian lover Jenjen, Hun Sung, Ro-ro, Viv, Shooter, and yes, Gramps. Zai, Neyna, Fari, Wawa, Lucy, Abu, Adly, Mijie, Farah, Marge, dek Ya, Aida and yes, Shukri, heh.

And Halimuddin. I still cannot believe he is out of my life. He’s still too great a loss. When I was staring at his lifeless body in the morgue that Wednesday night, I expected him to suddenly wake up and laugh at us and announce it was all a joke. Because it just didn‘t make sense. One day we were laughing over breakfast, then the very next day, he died. For the few weeks, even months, after he had passed away I would find myself tearing up while waiting for the bus, or in the LRT, or in the shower, even when I was pooping. Once while watching TV, I excused myself from the living room to cry in the bathroom because I was reminded of him.

Halim was like a younger brother to me, much like Yazid. He was probably the only friend I could never say “no” too. He was the most foul-mouthed, most animated, innocent little angel with an uncharacteristically strong grasp of vocabulary - which was why I could relate to him so much, haha. Even in anger and sadness, he would turn to comedy. He was one of my most trustworthy best friends. And man, could he make me laugh. Nobody could produce as strong a comic effect at the mere utterance of “cipap”. I love that boy, I do; and I still miss him tremendously.

Another unexpected thing happened in 2008: I forgave. It was a long time coming but since the wound was cut so deep, the healing process took longer than I would‘ve preferred. Maybe because being in a more stable state of things, I finally found clarity. So I forgave.
But however I measure it, thank you, Allah, for what was a great year. I wouldn’t have been able to go through it without You.

Life is good, God is Great.
A.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred hinutes
How do you measure - measure a year ?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife

In - five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?

How about love ?
How about love ?
How about love ?
Measure in love
Seasons of Love
Seasons of Love

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Journeys to plan
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure the Life
Of a woman or a man ?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died?

It’s time now, to sing out
Though the story never ends
Let’s celebrate and remember
A year in the life of friends

Remember the Love
Remember the Love
Remember the Love
Measure in Love
Seasons of Love ...
Seasons of Love

"The undisputed first Malay supermodel!!"

2008-11-11T17:48:00.005+08:00

Someone came across my 'Supermodel Reunion' entry a while back and was kind enough to send me some praise. I think he was doing some research on Nora Ariffin and in his efforts, stumbled upon my writing. I say that because the guy has just started a website devoted to "the undisputed first Malay supermodel."

So since he was so nice, I'm going to do my part to help promote his website. So if you wanna learn more about the Singaporean lass, please go to www.nora-ariffin.com.

That's Nora on the very right

The first Asian model to be the face of Chanel Allure.

Golly gee, I have another fan. And finally, not the kind that would send their dirty gym shorts to my office or leave lewd MMSes on my phone either (whoever you are though, please don't stop because it makes me feel important).

A.

A most poignant argument

2008-11-11T12:53:00.004+08:00

Tuesday

I am quite indifferent when it comes to gay marriage - I'm neither for it nor am I against it. Since it bears no true significance in this country or its politics, I dare say it doesn't affect me.

I'm sure that statement alone opens up a whole room for argument. Because legalising gay marriage is not just about getting a certificate that allows you to live together, it's also about attaining access to the very things heterosexual marriages are privileged with. You know, such as shared legal rights to property, joint adoptions, joint insurance policies, next-of-kin status for hospital visits or medical decisions, etc etc.

The thing is, I know gay marriage will NEVER be legalised in Malaysia. You can fight and scream all you want, it's not gonna happen. But coming from someone who has learned to adapt as a matter of survival, what you can do is work your way around it. The way I see it, in the Malaysian context, if two men or two women decide to be eternally committed to each other, they should go ahead and do it. Call it a commitment ceremony or whatever, have the whole shebang of a grand affair, recite your vows in front of your loved ones and celebrate it. You don't need the government to approve it - in my books, as long as those that count bless it, then you're married in their eyes. It's not the peachiest of solutions, but hey, short of moving to a country that embraces same-sex marriage, it's not that bad a prospect either.

As for argument from a religious point of view: it's between God and you. Berani buat, berani tanggung.

Now, you may think that this whole disclosure is prompted by the controversy over Proposition 8. Well, okay, that's partly true: I don't really make it a habit to follow politics, especially when it's not even our own so by right, I am not emotionally invested in whether Prop 8 doesn't come to pass or not.

But I am invested in arguments, and I was just significantly moved by one Keith Olbermann. A heterosexual news anchor and political commentator, he delivered a strong argument regarding Prop 8 on MSNBC's Special Comment.

You just have to watch it. It is the most beautiful, most poignant argument I've ever heard that it almost brought me close to tears. I said 'close', because I don't like crying. His points made sense, and it gripped me. Judge for yourself:

A.

I think it's about Forgiveness

2008-11-06T18:27:00.009+08:00

Thursday afternoon

I’m thinking this was a long time coming.

But pain or scars in whatever shape or form, heal at their own pace. Some people overcome the pain swiftly, others – that’s me – take longer. Partly because along with that pain, there were layers of betrayal, lies, disappointment, dejection, anger... rage. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Which was why getting over it took too long a time, because I looked the idiot more than anybody else. And I hate looking the idiot.

When we were watching the Sex and the City movie some months back, my friends said India.Arie’s rendition of The Heart of the Matter was my song. At that time, they were referring to my supposed fictional alter ego, Miranda (left), because it was her song. But whether life imitated art, or art imitated life, the song became my own soundtrack.

About a week back, I came across a picture of the Ex, by accident. As I looked at it, I smiled and felt... nothing. No rage, no disgust, no hate. So that was when I realised it.

I’ve forgiven him.

My cold, cold heart has finally given way to warmth. And I say this with great conviction, with nary hint of sarcasm: I truly wish him all the best in his life. In fact, I wish he finds great joy and contentment. And I will cease to call him by any degrading moniker that I have assigned him. Clean slate.

But I'm in no rush to tell him that :p

yusli: finally?
me: yeah.. I mean, I'm not gonna go up to him and shake hands and say "water under the bridge" ke apa
me: but I hold no grudges, what's done is done
yusli: understood :)

Jen: good on you, hun.. sounds like the poison has worked its way out of your system.

Indeed.

The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, I'm learning them again

I've been tryin' to get down
to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore

All the people in your life who've come and gone
They let you down, you know they hurt your pride
Better put it all behind you; cause life goes on
You keep carrin' that anger, it'll eat you up inside

I wanna be happily everafter
And my heart is so shattered
But I know it's about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore

I've been tryin' to get down
to the Heart of the Matter
Because the flesh will get weak
And the ashes will scatter
So I'm thinkin' about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if you don't love me anymore
Even if you don't love me anymore

- from "The Heart of the Matter", Don Henley/India.Arie

So that’s that :)

And while I'm singing this note, a very witty, charming man shared this with me earlier this week:

"Out with the negativity, in with the love!"

Corny, but true.

So here's two snaps for love, beautiful people!

Of feeling high and feeling low..

2008-10-16T00:37:00.006+08:00

Wednesday night

About an hour ago we had just wrapped up Jenjen's b-day bash at my current fave spot, The C. Club. I'd like to say, had I was left in charge of the guests list the dinner party would have been a classier affair. But who am I kidding? Our guests were a truly well-mannered bunch. But the posh venue turned into a fancy diner that fell prey to hooligans - us. Jen, Roro, E, Hun and I (and Auntie HL) couldn't help but to be our unabashedly loud selves. I'm thinking 'titties', 'man milk' and sexual connotations of the brand 'Lalique' shouldn't make up fine dining conversation. You really can't take us anywhere. Anywhere!

Heh. I love those guys.

And we had our very first 'family portrait'. Hun and I have agreed that it was something we must do on each birthday.

Jenjen also motioned for a review of the privilege we bestowed upon the birthday person to be able to say whatever he/she feels like saying on his/her birthday with no restrictions or objections from other parties. Meaning, come your birthday, your word is gospel. It's been our tradition for the past 2-3 years. But that privilege will only take effect on your actual birthday. Since the party was way before, and she won't be around next week, Jenjen could not practice the privilege.

It was a great night, one I managed to endure in spite of three hours sleep in 36 hours (and counting).

But then this happened.

Dammit. I truly feel sad about this. I was so sure that they would stick it to the end and prove naysayers wrong. Sigh. I feel so sorry for the kids, but mostly for her. It's like the crashing down of a real-life fantasy: the foreign land, the fairytale wedding, the country manor, standing by her man through all his projects... it's now all dust. It's just so depressing.

And the media is going to rip her to shreds. For being too ambitious, too hardworking, for trying to stay legitimate and sexy at the age of 50 yet still not being able to keep her man.

The only way I could view this positively is if she were to start writing her songs of despair again. And emote. Like A Prayer part II perhaps?

Sigh. I feel so sorry for Rocco.

the new Love of my life

2008-09-27T20:21:00.002+08:00

Saturday

I am sooo in love right now. Seriously. I am in a heavenly bliss, an emotional high that enraptures me so, I feel like crying. And I've not felt this for quite some time now.

I bought a unit in Sterling, Kelana Jaya some years back. I was supposed to move in before Ramadhan but since my deadlines have been madness then, I had to postpone that desire. And I've been to my unit a coupla times but always with somebody else and it was all business.

So today I went there - alone - just to check out the wiring for my lights and fans and air-cond. And when I walked through the front door, it hit me: oh my God. This is my house. Mine.

It was a bit emotional an experience being there on my own, thinking about the many years that it took for me to get here. Though I've been renting for 8 years now since I moved to KL, the one place that I seriously called home previously was my shoddy flat in Brickfields, mainly because I had the place to myself, no roomies. It was incredibly small and I had to share the bathroom with my next door neighbours. Kinda like a dorm. But I had my own kitchen. And rats. There were lots of rats. The only real assets I had then were a folded mattress, a table fan, a minibar and a patio lounge chair, all bought from Carrefour. It was my true beginning as a KL-ite, a struggling artist of sorts trying to make it in the world of publishing.

And 6 years later, I finally have my own home. I feel so grown up. I am deeply in love with it. As with everything, I'm picky and to find a mid-range high-rise that I would love wasn't easy. But this? This is fantastic.

Here is one of the main reasons why I bought the unit. Most mid-range condos in KL express lousy layouts: normally the first room you encounter after walking through the front door is the dining room or kitchen and only after that would you find the living room. I think that's stupid. Any architect who designs that way should surrender their useless degree.

I mean, if you're having a dinner party, you wouldn't want your guests to see you sweating in the kitchen before they even get to sit down in the lounge. So this (above) was what attracted me to my unit: after the front door, you get a full view of the living hall, with no trace of where the kitchen or dining is. And it stretches right out to the balcony.

I'm imagining dark grey walls (Night Jewel 1 by Dulux) with white dado rails and panelling and expressive wallpaper. Plus, rich wooden flooring.

This here is the other clincher: split-level layout!! Another rare find in high-rise units in KL. I want my home to be an exploration of spaces. A spatial adventure of sorts, if you will.

That's the front door. The wall next to it offers a setting for a transitionary space, or a smaller sitting area. The steps lead into the dining and kitchen. Right next to the door is maid's room. But I'm turning that into 2/3 walk-in wardrobe then 1/3 storage space. So I won't have to bother fitting a wardrobe in my bedroom.

This is an alternative view, from the kitchen looking into the living hall (far left). That's the door to my master bedroom. The second view is the hallway leading to the other rooms.

Because I've stayed in units where the heat was unbearable, I purposefully chose a unit with a North-South orientation so I wouldn't get direct sunlight. And true enough, I was at the house at 12:30 noon and even with all the doors and windows closed, the interiors felt cool.

On to my master bedroom. A tad small for my preference but I can live with that, especially since the whole house is mine, heh. Can't make my mind up yet on how I want it to look. But yes, wooden flooring throughout. Tiles tend to make me sick. Really. I have sensitive feet.

And the attached bathroom. Not really loving the shower head but not hating it either. It's effective for now.

Here's the spare bedroom. My sister insists on giving her one room to decorate. She wants an English country theme. The thought of it still makes me cringe.

This is the other spare room. I'm turning it into my Miranda Priestley office, heh. The nook is where my work desk is going and I'll prop up a sofa-bed by the windows. This is where I'll sleep should the parents and sisters come over.

This is the balcony. Yes, the view sucks but the other alternative was looking into the public swimming pool area, which is more distracting a choice for me, or the highway, which is noisy. If my unit were higher, I'd get a better view but I didn't like the idea of paying more - with each floor, I have to pay additional RM1,000. Boo. But then again, I purposefully chose a ground floor unit because it saves me the trouble of waiting for the lift. The ground floor gives me 20 seconds walk to the pool area and moving furniture will be easier. Nothing's perfect and I'm not one to really appreciate a good view.

Here's my front door - just looking at it gives me goosebumps! And the other picture is the ridiculously spacious hall leading to the residential units. And that glass wall area? That's the lift lobby. Fancy huh??

The bonus to this place is the landscaping. Check out the swimming pool area. Nice. And the location. The arrestingly iconic commercial precinct Paradigm is a stone's throwaway, what I anticipate to be something akin to Pavilion (but I could be wrong). Giant is just opposite that and if I'm loyal to my company, I plan to cycle to work (it's that near). Unless that other job offer pans out positively, which is cool because it's only in Uptown.

This is leading to the pool area (above). Public tables and chairs fitted with chess boards are sporadically placed throughout the compound, as are exercise contraptions and reflexology paths.

The pool. Sigh.

A cascading water wall, which you encounter upon entering the condo premise.

And I will looking at light fixtures come Monday. I've decided that once the lights are in, I'll just move right in and get my contractors to go and do their work while I'm there. Won't bother me one bit, 'cause hey, I'm in love.

Flashback: superdupermodels reunion in Vanity Fair Sept '08

2008-09-18T08:11:00.003+08:00

I can hardly contain myself.

This recent discovery is bringing back a whole lotta memories of a group of boys who wished they were a group of girls in a little town called Kuching. We were turning 13, having just survived UPSR, making our way to secondary school. I can't quite recall how we first got together but we did: me, Jay, Abu, Epen. We were never formally introduced to each other and were all in different classes but shared the same friends. I guess we just gelled.

Saturdays were usually our time to hang out, when we would find a vacant spot or empty classroom to do whatever we felt like doing. That included organising impromptu beauty pageants (even back then we were such queens), talking about boys, learning choreography and whatever else little boys get up to (heh).

Different as our personalities were, we shared one thing in common: a passion for fashion. I'm not quite sure how that started but Fashion TV played a significant role, I guess, and eventually we started buying magazines. For the life of me, I don't know why but I found myself gravitating towards Cosmopolitan and I remember some issues of Harper's Bazaar or Elle or something but not quite sure if anyone actually had Vogue. So somehow, suddenly, we began discussing designers and supermodels.

And it was the right time too. It was the Era of the Supermodels, the glamazons who ruled the runways, magazine covers and print campaigns. We learned the designers (Oscar de la Renta, Westwood and Versace were favourites back then) and got acquainted with Cindy, Linda, Naomi, Claudia, Christy, then Kristen McMenamy, Nadege, Vendela, Yasmin Ghauri, Niki Taylor, even Tengku Azura, Nora Ariffin to luminaries the likes of Steven Meisel, Herb Ritts, Peter Lindbergh, Mario Testino. We organised impromptu photoshoots around Kuching (and eew, the pictures were horrendous!) and taught ourselves to sketch clothes, and practised fashion poses and catwalks - by age 16, I already mastered the Vivienne Westwood gallop. We even pretended to fall like Naomi did circa 1993 (below)!

Years rolled by, I went to MRSM (where I managed to impart my knowledge of fashion to unsuspecting innocents) then new designers and newer models arrived on to the scene - Stella Tenant, Carolyn Murphy, Kate, Jenny Shimizu, Michelle Hicks, Shalom Harlow, Tyra Banks, Sophie Dahl - but none fascinated us as much as the Originals. So much so that we had assigned each other a supermodel counterpart: Being the serious over-achiever, I was Cindy (berangan!!), Jay with his lanky limbs was Linda, Abu and his dark skin, fiery temper and drama was fittingly Naomi and Epen... regarded as a late bloomer of sorts, Epen was Nora Ariffin (hehe). It was a great fashion fantasy of mine to do a shoot with Cindy, photographed by Herb Ritts. And when Herb passed away in 2002, I was devastated.

Sadly, as we know it the Era of the Supermodels is no more. But the girls remain in our hearts as our friendship grows from strength to strength. And we still get a kick out of seeing them headlining some of the big campaigns out there still.

L-R: Nadege, Shalom and Stella.

Then a coupla days back, I chanced upon this:

I have neither been keeping up with my Vanity Fair nor my fashion blogs updates as of late. Which only made my recent discovery even greater a surprise because of it. I flipped through the pages and saw this:

Clockwise from top left: Cindy Crawford, Stephanie Seymour, Christy Turlington, Linda Evangelist, Claudia Schiffer and Naomi Campbell wearing Dolce & Gabbana

And this:

My girls wearing Prada!!

Then this:

The Originals in Atelier Versace.

I was gobsmacked. I couldn't believe my eyes and was all giddy! My first instinct was to text Jay, ordering him to go and get a copy. His reply:
Copy that. So its like kita pun reunion la. Kita kan the fabulous four. Best zaman ya oh? I sik sabar nak carik trus isok.

We.. I mean.. the girls look phenomenal still. Or perhaps I should rephrase that. The main difference I feel about supermodels then and now is that Cindy, Linda and co. were undeniably women, strong young women. This new breed - Natalia, Stam, Gemma, Liya etc fabulous in their own right - they're more like girls (save for Kate and Giselle).

Wow. I should get copies for Abu and Epen.

A.

The saddest birthday this year

2008-09-10T17:38:00.000+08:00

Sigh.

That's a very heavy sigh by the way.

It's Halim's birthday today. He would've turned 29. To be honest, I've been dreading this day for the past week. In this group, the birthdays that I make a point to remember are Mazri's and Din's. And it just feels so empty now that he's not around.

So at noon, I texted this to a coupla friends:
12:34pm
Happy birthday, Che Din... :-(

The replies:
12:01pm
:'( How come this happened to us?..

12:47pm
tsk tsk... I miss him :-((

1:00pm
I don't want to remember and please don't remind me again :'( I want to think that he's still around. Usually, I will give him my wishes when I see him. So let me wait until I see him again to give him my wishes.

I didn't expect that last one to respond that way. I guess it just goes to show that though it's been four months, we're missing him like crazy still.

But this was even more unexpected:

5:07pm
A little after 11pm tonight will be Che Din's anniversary. Today... I just feel so sad right now.

Part of me sympathises, part of me... just can't bring itself to sympathise. I still don't know how to see the predicament. I know how Din would want me to view it, but... I'm too bloody judgmental I guess.

I really really, truly, deeply miss you, Lim.

A.

Preview: Comme des Garcons for H&M Autumn '09

2008-09-10T15:55:00.015+08:00

When H&M began collaborating with Viktor&Rolf in 2006, I thought it was to be the start of a new agenda i.e. steering clear of sure-fire mainstream designers the likes of Karl Lagerfeld and Stella McCartney to instead recruit more avant-garde designers for their fall collection.

But last year, the clothing giant roped in Roberto Cavalli for their annual fashion collaboration, so I thought, "Naaah.. a company like H&M cares about maximum profit. They wouldn't dare work with someone with too left-field a style that the masses might have trouble embracing."

Clockwise from far left:
Karl Lagerfeld for H&M in 2004; designers Viktor&Rolf seen here posing in an ad with the sold-out USD350 wedding dress they designed for H&M in 2007; Roberto Cavalli collaborated with the clothing giant in 2007.

Oh me of little faith...

But before I elaborate, a brief history: before the age of the internet, magazines and Fashion TV were my only access to fashion news, and one of my fashion bibles back then was Couture. It was cheaper than Vogue, was published twice a year and reviewed all the designer shows of each season. The mag featured commentaries on trends and new faces and over the years introduced me to the next wave of models the likes of Shalom Harlow, Michelle Hicks, Stella Tennant and Carolyn Murphy, as well as designers I was just beginning to learn about: Sonia Rykiel, Hussein Chalayan, Dries Van Noten, Yohji Yamamoto. This was a time when Gucci and LV were not yet the uber-brands that they are today and Burberry Prorsum, Alexander McQueen, McCartney and Viktor&Rolf were still non-existent labels.

I had a particular fondness for the Japanese designers because when we started talking about fashion, it felt kinda cool to be able to pronounce their names to my friends: Ya-ma-mo-to. Hun-ya Wa-ta-na-bey. Ee-say Mi-ya-kay. Ken-zo Ta-ka-da. And of course, Rei Ka-wa-ku-bo.

I have been worshipping Rei Kawakubo since 1993-4. That was the year when she first presented a Comme des Garcons (CdG) collection defined by an explosion of colours. Previously, she was known for only designing in black, or red ("Red is black," she explained). But colourful or not, her designs were my first introduction to avant-garde fashion. She continues to just blow me away. Her style is non-conforming, rebellious. It appeals to the street chic side of my personae, or that part of me that views fashion as a cerebral sport, or something. Some people dare say 'frumpy', but I say Kawakubo has a wicked sense of aesthetics.

And now she's designing for H&M. Bloody 'ell - why can't we have H&M in KL already???!!

Sooooooo chantek... sigh

That jacket dress is sooo editorial.

I want, I want, I want!! That shirt looks so comfy too.

I am LOVING that suit!

Sigh...

A.

Of fasting and good-for-nothing colleagues

2008-09-04T22:39:00.005+08:00

The first day of puasa felt rather uneventful. I was (am?) still trying to catch up on lost sleep, a problem that’s not going to be made easier come Ramadhan, to be honest.

Clocked in a total of 6 hours of sleep for Sunday, 2 hours for Saturday. That’s 8 hours in two days, so I needed to make up for the other missing 8 hours (ideally, I need 8 hours a day to function well). Which was why I got up at 2:30pm on Monday, the first day of fasting. Sheesh.

Then a dear friend of mine insisted that there was a great Ramadhan bazaar near Cineleisure that someone had told him about. So we walked our way there, passing the mini-bazaar that was propped up in front of my apartment. And nopes, no bazaar. So we walked all the way back to Pelangi. Since it was Ramadhan, I didn’t blow my fuse. And it was such a pleasant day for a walk anyway.

And no, I couldn't find a single popiah (left pic) in any of the stalls. As long as I have popiah to break my fast with, I won’t need to eat anything else.

I only had my popiah craving sated on the third day of puasa when my housemate Zai bought some from the pasar Ramadhan near the Masjid Jamek LRT station. On the second day of puasa, I broke my fast in the office, then stayed until 6am so had my sahur in the office too. Honestly, I’ve been trying to close the magazine for the past 4 weeks that all I seem to be thinking about is work. I hardly notice my stomach grumbling.

Speaking of which, my junior writer - whom photographer Ahmad dubbed Cleopatra - has been testing my patience. I just realized that she has zero knowledge in design and even less talent in writing. Aiyoooo…!! She is the epitome of impossible.

We assigned her this comprehensive 16-page feature but 4 weeks ago I realized it was too heavy a task for her so I told her I would help her out with it. In the end, I took over the assignment because it was a client-driven feature and I was afraid her questionable work quality would upset our clients.

The concept involved having to come up with 16 interior design concepts to suggest to our readers, based on our client portfolios. So I compiled all our clients’ products and placed them in a public folder for everyone to gain access to, then roped in my other Assistant Editor to help line out each design concept. I later passed 8 concepts to Cleopatra, showed her an example of what the text should sound like, even picked out products for each of her concepts. All she had to do was write them in the next three days.

It took her 5 days to write 8 concepts. I finished my 4 concepts in one day. Then again, she took one whole week to write a straight-forward 1-page write-up so I should‘ve known better. But then again, on top of her feature, I had a 4-day photoshoot to execute, two articles of my own to finish. Which is why I’ve been working until the wee hours of the morning for the past 4 weeks. So she shouldn’t have any excuse to be late with her articles when I have more workload but I meet my deadlines all the same.

Worse, after she sent in her text, I had to give them back to her because it lacked depth. After her second effort, I find myself having to cut out half of what she wrote - she mixed the clients up, quoted the wrong names, and showed a serious lack in common sense: You do not fit wood laminates in a bathroom! Hello??

See, I don’t care if you’re lacking in knowledge or talent. As long as you show true commitment, then I wouldn’t be in such a hissy fit. If you know you suck, you should spend more time getting the article right. And don’t be afraid to ask. But if you’re lazy, and not proactive, then don’t bother calling yourself a bloody journalist.

And to think, out of all of us, she’s the only one with a background in journalism.

Everyone has been complaining about her and they’ve all agreed that I would be the best candidate to take her aside and talk to her about her pathetic work quality. It’s like playing mentor to an intern, yet she’s been with the company before I came into the picture.

I would probably forgive her a bit if she for the very least showed a respectable sense of personal style. No such luck. Sigh.

A.

Merdeka 2009

2008-08-31T17:33:00.000+08:00

Lucy:
8:50pm
Happy independence day to all good Malaysians... from Miss-Malaysia-Galaxy 1991... Lucy Jane Idris :-D

Wawa:
8:53pm
Selamat menyambut hari merdeka! Frm Seripah Shawna Wan Jamal! Usahawan wanita berjaya cawangan Kuching 1993 :)

Mon:
9:12pm

Happy merdeka & selamat berpuasa beautiful.. From Miss German-Galaxy 1990, Monica Gabriella. Muah!

Aboo:
10:00pm
TQVM frm Miss Josipon 90-94

Heh, I love my girls.

Spent the bulk of today hanging out in Bangsar with Nora, Kri, sister Farah and Guy. We had banana leaf for lunch, then checked out the new collection from D&D followed by a survey of the mini furniture showcase in Bangsar Village. This was then followed by tea and coffee at Hiestand where Guy then started a debate on commerce, inflation and the economy.

Found out later that my party people all had plans to go out tonight. Call it the last hurrah before Ramadhan. Since I missed the last few outings, I was pretty game for this one. And sure, a little motivation didn’t hurt :-)

I can tell you this though. I’ve said it before and I'll say it again: I’m a sucker for physical comfort. There’s a sense of security afforded from it. It need not be deep and profound, it just needs to be. Even if it’s fleeting or superficial.

“Kau over kan?!” Ezwan cried out through the car window.

Yes, yes, I can be...

But ooooh, what a night! Great music, great crowd. To quote Nan, “Berbaloi sangat bayar 50 ringgit! Tak ramai orang!”

Normally the place would be body-to-body packed. But this time round, we had plenty of room to breathe and move. It was pretty cool when before the night ended they played the national anthem and we (well, most of us) paid our respects by standing still and singing along.

Thing is, patriotism comes in all forms. To me, whether it's something as indirect as recycling or not littering in public, to attaining national or international recognition in your respective field, as long as your helping your country out, that's patriotism. Sure, we complain about the goverment or the attitudes of some of our people, but it doesn't take away the fact that we love this country or make us love it less, right? Well, that's how I feel about it anyway. I for one just cannot imagine ever living in another country for too long a time.

Still, it was kinda pathetic that hordes of KL-ites were lining the streets around Suria KLCC, waiting in anticipation for the fireworks display that never came. People started revving their motorcycles and honking madly in frustration when by 12:10am, not a spark was seen in the KL sky. Idiots. You're being a nuisance by turning two-way roads into temporary parking spaces. Get a life for crying out loud.

See? I'm complaining about my fellow countrymen already. But I love them all. Well, okay, maybe not all of them... :o)

Remembering Emi and Din

2008-08-19T21:58:00.002+08:00

Tuesday

I seem to be thinking about Din a lot this past week, even more so today.

Perhaps because Puasa is near. Prior to this, my Ramadan would feel incomplete without breaking my fast with Din a coupla times. And of course Puasa leads to Raya, and my Raya would be incomplete without me bringing back kek lapis for him. He would insist on that so I’d give him half of whatever my aunt baked for me and keep the remaining half for whoever else asked for a piece.

So I don’t see the point of lugging some kek lapis in my luggage anymore.

Or maybe it’s because I find myself having to pass by his office earlier. That was where we saw each other off for the very last time, the very day before he passed away.

Or maybe because I’ve been seriously lacking in sleep and when that happens, the exhaustion has a habit of pushing my mind into sombre territory.

I do believe that the best way to deal with the loss of a friend is to celebrate their life, not mourn their death. Emi was a free spirit who introduced me to the magical sounds of Tori Amos. Din was the quick-thinking comic whose unimaginable grasp of vocabulary makes me laugh to myself whenever somebody utters the word ‘insinuate’. Heh, just typing that out got me chuckling still.

And fittingly so. With regards to both Emi and Din, the memory that comes to mind whenever I think about them is the way they laughed. Emi’s was always head-thrown-back hearty and unashamed. Din’s was usually a snigger or a chuckle, but when it was big, it was infectious but soundless.

Still, I cannot help but feel empty when I’m reminded that I can’t experience their laughs again. But I take great comfort in the fact that because of the abrupt nature of both of their premature passings, I was lucky enough to be able to talk to both of them days before they died, and that after a lengthy period of personal turmoil, both of them seemed to be content and have made peace with their respective demons. For their last few days, they were both happy. So thank you, God.

Here's a thought: Can you just imagine what a complete mess I would be if Ezwan were to be taken away from me?? I would die, I would just die. Just the thought of it shakes me at the very core. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about such things but I believe by thinking about it, I remind myself to never take the people I care about for granted. Because I lost two already. It’s just easier to say than to practise constantly, so it’s good that I remind myself now and then.

Al-fatihah to two fabulous friends.

A.

Love. Pain. Same difference.

2008-08-18T04:39:00.009+08:00

Too early Monday morning

I’ve lost count of how many nights I’ve spent in the office until the wee hours of the morning. It’s already almost 5am on a Monday – meaning I’ve been working almost all of Sunday. And I worked until 3am on Friday and until 6am the Friday before that. Yet I don’t mind it. Nobody forced me.

Taking a break from work, I browsed through some random scenes from OZ , that HBO drama series about prison life. He has always been easy on the eyes but now I have even greater hots for Christoper Meloni. Yum. Yum. Or better yet, to quote my good friend Zai when quoting me: “Bak kata kawan baik mak, Aziz: mmh mmh MMMPH!”

Hear that? That's me drowning in the celestial pool of his eyes. (crikey...)

Sigh.

Going through the whole Beecher/Keller drama, sometimes the part of me that’s used to abuse wonders, why can’t I be in an honest but tumultuous relationship like that? I mean, I don’t mind physical hurt when it’s the manifestation of strong, sincere longing and passion for one another. At least it’s honest. People communicate in different ways. And don’t anger stem from the very same place as compassion?

Yes, this is the disturbed side of me speaking, but who’s to say that one form of a relationship is healthier than another when, bottom line, those involved are in love with one another? At least it’s not deceitful (Lahanat), or pretentious (Ka'ar), or lustful (Ady), or ambivalent (Nas), or selfish (all four). It is what it just is.

I’m too poetic for my own good. When other people are pining for the romantic, I want it to be epic. Maybe I just understand pain better than I do anything else. Love. Pain. Same difference.

See, this is what working too hard and sleeping too little does to you.

"Fear not love loosen its hooks
From its sheath and capture you
In its painfully seductive grasp.

Fear not the blood
That oozes from your wounds
And holds your patience to task.

Fear not the tearing sounds of passion
As they rip apart the feelings at the start.
Fear not the fainting pulse of heartbeat,
For that, that is the very best part."
- OZ, Season 4.3, ‘Bill of Wrongs’

A.

Surely whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him or her I shall follow,
As the water follows the moon, silently, with fluid steps, anywhere around the globe.
- Walt Whitman, 1819-1892, 'Vocalism'

Slap me!: on absent assistants, discounted Diesels & tantalising tiles

2008-08-12T20:10:00.006+08:00

Tuesday

Whenever I hear Take That’s “Relight My Fire”, I’m reminded of Yus. I can even imagine placing him in the video, since he has the wet-dream physique to do the raunchy video justice.

There’s an ego brush for ya ;o) (you know I love you, Yus, hehe)

It's that time of the month when I am in dire need of an assistant, an Andrey-ah I can send out to pick up products and tall iced soy caramel macchiatos.

Raking my brains for concepts for next week’s photoshoots has finally born fruit. Since the previous cover proved to be the most disappointing (I blame trying too hard to outdo myself.. and lack of interesting blurbs), I’m going back to what I do best - styling products. Something fashionable, but still tongue-in-cheek. I picture about 20 product shots, all styled, two different concepts, in one days. And one elaborate cover shot. Quite ambitious a vision, but we’ll see how things work out.

I am also in dire need of some cash. I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't have spent RM240 on those pants. But then again, they’re Diesel. And 60% off. And every time I look at them, I go mushy inside.

I should really find the time to take out my floor plan and get someone to help with the kitchen cabinets already. Good news though: I've found the perfect tiles for the kitchen walls and floor, and my client is willing to give me discounts. Also found the perfect light for the living area and bedroom and turns out, another client distributes them. For once, I’m more than happy to service my clients.

So if you catch me complaining about my work, slap me.

Then again, don't. Because I just might enjoy that.

God bless all,

A.

"Life is a drug and I am the addict."
- Emi Farah Idrus, 29 January 1977-28 February 2003

Puddle Muddle: of being a snob, fan club president & over-50

2008-08-10T19:51:00.003+08:00

Monday

Apparently, I was invited to a shindig that I knew about only in passing but nobody actually sent out an invite – neither in writing nor through word of mouth. Maybe it was a telepathic invitation, and since I’ve been mentally muddled up these past few days, I’ve failed to pick up the signal.

Muddle puddle, puddle muddle…

I did however see the pictures from said gathering and in my muddled mind one thought pushed its way to the front of my forehead: Yegads! Thank God I wasn’t there!

The bash consisted of a young crowd - or maybe I should say young-ish crowd - where young adults used the occasion as an excuse to dress like college kids (to be fair, some of them were college kids). Beautiful, questionably fashionable peeps of whom I’d probably be able to carry a conversation with but 5 of them (primarily because they’re cool friends). With everybody else, I’d have to put in effort to even bother.

(God, I’m making myself sound like a bloody elitist.)

I’d like to go as saying that age has made me a cranky old fart but honestly, I’m just never one to be the least bit gregarious in a social soiree. Sam and Kri have every right to either call me an uptight bitch or an anti-social snob for that. But in my defence, I’m as selective with a crowd as I am with my friends (or boyfriends. Or more precisely ‘lack thereof’). So, over-aged teenagers with a misconstrued sense of style hardly qualify as mental stimuli. True, I’m a retard in the presence of strangers but I truly find it difficult to chat with someone when we have little common ground beyond a shared sexuality to tread on. And it’s really tiring being sociable. That’s a territory I happily leave to Shukri and Sam, the social butterflies that they are.

Geez, maybe I am a snob. But you know what? I can live with that.

You know what I can’t live with though? People who overstay their welcome.

I had a discussion about this with my friend Stew the other day. I argued that as host, I have to accommodate my guests. He on the other hand insisted that like most people, I got it all wrong. It’s the guest who should be more sensitive to the host. Because being a guest is a privilege but it’s not one that is open for abuse. And it is the host’s territory, so the guest should abide by his whims and fancies. The privilege offered is not one to be taken for granted.

Here’s another thing you shouldn’t take for granted: friends. I marched my way to Dataran Merdeka for the bulk of my Sunday to yet again watch the guys interpret their version of a girl’s game.
“You’re here for Sonique?” Ka’ar asked. “You’re always here for them.”
“Well, I am the president of their fan club, so...”
“They have a fan club? How many members are there?”
“Oh, just the one.”
Heh. And dammit!, Ka’ar looked better than the past few months. I swear he has an inflatable stomach.

Speaking of being president to a fan club, Mazri was there. To think I bothered convincing myself that the reason I was feeling somewhat sticky then was because the heat was getting to me - Hah! Well, one thing for sure, every time I see Arie and Mazri (and that slight chance to catch Yus before he falls back to enemy territory), my heart flips.

I may not have a love for the sport, but one aspect of the local men’s netball fraternity (sorority?) do fascinate me: the politics. The behind-the-scenes scandal and the drama of the sport could feed the plotlines for a long-running Spanish soap. More so than any other team, Sonique has a rather lassez faire attitude towards the politics of the sport. Which is why I don’t mind being affiliated to them, because it’s the best vantage point from which I can play observer and silent commentator. But as a team, Sonique’s a great bunch. Now, whenever they huddle up before a game, I feel a tear welling up as I’m reminded of Din.

And they made it into the finals too, where they eventually went home second. We celebrated with a sumptuous dinner and we even ordered arwah’s favourite dish, ayam goreng masak kunyit. God, I miss that clown.

A.

Overheard at the tournament:
“Sesiapa yang berusia 51 tahun, angkat tangan!!”

Texted over to Yus:
Why didn’t you raise your hand just now?

Pukey kau…!! hehe

MBPJ Open '08: Sonique post-Din

2008-07-21T22:03:00.005+08:00

The only reason I was ever willing to sacrifice my weekend to see Sonique in action was because Din had always insisted on it.
“Ko dah tak lepak ngan kitaorang sebab [si lahanat] tu ker?”
“Takde makna nyer! Aku nak retire dah dari Urban...”
“Oh ok. Lupakan volleyball! Tapi netball ko datang lah sokong kitaorang.”
“Eee, netball?? Perlu ke? Geli aku dengar...”
“Alaaah… datang laaah..”

I had always assumed my presence at their matches was purely as the role of spectator and occassional cheerperson. But it wasn’t hard to see that Din would just light up when he saw me – and he had that same effect on me too. Our friendship was one of mutual admiration, unwavering trust and emotional support. And comedy. We believed in great comedy, even in our angriest times. So if anything, I was always protective of Din.
"Tadi sebelum ko datang, aku rasa stress je," he would say. "Tapi bila ko ada, aku rasa tenteram.”
“Ye lah tu…”
“Aku cakap serius ni!"
“Ye lah, ye lah. Aku datang pun sebab kau, bukan sebab orang lain tau.”
“Thank you,” he would smile. “Kalau ko takde, aku rasa lain macam jer.”

Ten weeks had passed since I buried him, and the last time I saw everyone was ten days after the funeral. The only guys I truly kept in touch with since were Kairul Nizam and Mazri. Without Mazri, Arie was my only real connection to the team now. He was the one who had to tell me that one of my dearest best friends had died and he was also the one to invite me back to lend some support to the team. It was to be their first match since Din collapsed in front of them during a training session.
“How are you, my brother?”
“Hey..! I’m good good. Happy belated birthday!”
“Dah lambat dah lah!”
“Belum cukup seminggu lah, so boleh wish lagi. Happy belated birthday!”
“Thank you, thank you. Aku nak tanya ni, weekend ni ko ada apa-apa plan?”
“Tak, why?”
“Kitaorang ada tournament...”
“Oh, ok... so nak aku datang support lah?”
“Ye lah. Walaupun Din takde...”
“...for old times’ sake? Demi Din?”
“Ha’ah.”

So Saturday, when I got to the sporting venue in Kelana Jaya, the guys were already warming up for their first match. After not seing them for so long, it felt like a reunion of sorts. I have to admit, seeing Arie was like slipping into a warm blanket. I do see parallels between my friendship with Arie and my friendship with arwah. Like Din, he’s a good kid. A less troubled kinda a good kid. And like Din, we went through the same rough patch so have been supportive of each other because of it. I guess to some extend, Arie now filled the void left over from Din’s passing.

The guys were generally hopeful, though they were without some of their stronger players. Prior to the game, they gathered around in a circle then asked Sarah and I to join them. Fighting back tears, Arie asked that we recited the al-Fatihah for Din and there and then, I felt a weight in my heart as my own eyes started to water. The thing is, Din's absence will always be felt. He was the comic centre of any given situation, the loudmouth even. I love that boy, I really really do still. So this was to be a tournament played in his honour.

Though their main focus was to get into the semis, Sonique being Sonique, their means seemed to threaten the fruition of that end. The thing about Sonique was, they were known to be an emotional team and in terms of performance was an inconsistent team, hardly the most committed. When other teams attend multiple training sessions a week for months prior to a tournament, Sonique had only clocked in one friendly match just the day before as a training session for this tournament, the Majlis Bandaraya Petaling Jaya Open 2008 (MBPJ '08). Still, they have solid players with unique chemistry. And somehow luck was always in their favour, which further contributed to their unpredictability. That worked to their advantage most times – Sonique more often than not would make their way to the final four showdown, and could even make it to the final two. If anything, theirs was a team with the least direction because they functioned without a captain, and sometimes without a coach.

That Saturday, Shahril was nervous having to step into Mazri’s shoes and be one of the main shooters. Apart from Mazri, the team was also without Yusman. Plus, previously lesser teams have shown tremendous improvement in skill. So, with unfavourable odds against them, the natural thing to do was to just go out and play, to give it their all. But I had my doubts.

Oh, me of little faith...

The lads were AMAZING! In spite of the odds, they played one of their best set of games to date. Shahril, playing main shooter for the first time, was at the top of his game and the others were equally sharp, with nary an emotional outburst expected of them previously.

There’s one thing they did always have though: heart. They pulled each other together. So after a rough start, they won their first match. Then another. And another.

With only Sarah and I shouting by the sidelines, they didn’t necessarily have the strongest fanbase. But they persevered. It helped tremendously that they had Royale rooting for them too.

Again, luck came in the form of a little controversy that helped to push Sonique into the semis. But not to take it away from them, these lads still performed remarkably. Yusman was there to help them on the second day when they were up against Legend in the semis. Then, for the first time after a long time, I felt a swell in my chest: pride. Watching them play, I was just so proud of them. They lost eventually but they put up a really strong fight. They were playing at one of their most physically strong and mature state of mind.

We were ecstatic. And kudos to Royale for winning the championship for the third year running – and deservedly so too (okay, I admit, their victory tasted all the sweeter to me, heh). Worth sacrificing my weekend for, that.

On another note though, as much as I hate to admit it, there was someone I couldn’t bring myself to see in the same light ever again. It was one of those cases of ‘..and just when you think you know someone, you don’t.’ (And no, it’s not who you think it is, that’s too obvious) I knew about it for too long a time now. But it’s a good thing, I suppose, because I would rather see people as they truly are, behind the mask as opposed to the superficial facade they present to people. And with things the way they are now, I don’t have to pretend to be warm towards him as I had to before. It’s no big loss, but I just have to remind myself to just extinguish whatever anger I have towards him because what’s done is done, right? I can still afford him some level of civility, to not appear too obvious in front of everyone else.

Sigh, being the keeper of secrets is such a burden.

Speaking of seeing people, Yus was not around but I got to see Sab (it’s always nice to see Sab) and Fahmi, and Koi. I guess the cherry on top of a very good day was when a friend called to report what he saw when he was out for dinner:
"Which one?"
"The one that I hate."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. He went up this seedy motel in Bukit Bintang, carrying what seemed to be a small, generic plastic bag, like the kind you get from a convenience store."
"Iiinnteresting..."
"Pathetic kan??"

Well, well, well. What's the matter, X? All the money in the world not enough to make up for failure? Tsk tsk.

A.

Sleep-deprived but standing: of strong arms, a heavy heart and peace of mind

2008-07-20T20:06:00.001+08:00

This past weekend has been a flurry of activities, of wants and needs, of highs and lows, of hollowness and hilarity, of fleeting moments and permanence.

After Thursday’s lacklustre event, Friday night saw me getting reacquainted with an old haunt: Frangipani.

I’ve not seen the club’s new interiors and since Shukri wanted to take Shaun out, it was good reason as any to check out the joint. Kh was there, Zk was there, Che Li, Zn and a whole lotta other people were there. As always, it was fun seeing Zn and we got talking about his art. I was tired and sleep-deprived, to the point that before the end of the night I felt my legs give way from the persistent grooving.

Shaun and Kri – and Amy Neraks – provided great comedy while a beautifully fit species of a man with a killer smile and sexy moves allowed me a brief moment of heaven.
“Tall guy in front of me is sooo fine…”
“I know!”

It's funny how someone's back can look just as enticing as his front. And I do like a guy with strong arms who smells good :-)

Aaanyway... Prior to our outing, Fari – with the approval of Kri – asked me to call up my dear dear friend D who it seemed was in possession of some information requiring my utmost attention. Let's just say it was mildly.. affecting.. news, something that I had always assumed but never truly digested until it was forced in front of me to prod at. It made me feel kinda queasy but it didn't seriously upset me. It bugged me a tad, but if anything, it further justified the end that I've been wanting to work towards for the past coupla months now.

But yeah, them strong arms... and broad shoulders... and charming smile... heh.

Now, where was I?

Frangi was followed by late supper and reminiscing on Eternal's first collection of singles. Bumped into D, who was apologetic as he recounted what he shared with me earlier. All I can say is, I'm glad I've learned from my past horrors and I'm even more glad to have friends like Fari, Kri and D to play guardian angels.
"After you do it, can I splash acid on his face?" Kri asked.

"Oh, please, there is no need to be dramatic," I ventured. "I've not exactly been the most well-behaved myself. I might have not gone so far as to consummate any of my vague liaisons, but the truth is, I may as well have. So I'm not too bothered by it. Besides, the issue between us is something else entirely."

It was about 4am when I hailed a cab to go back to Ezwan's. See, Kairul Nizam called me some days back, asking me to lend some support for their team Saturday morn. It was their first tournament after Din's passing, who was previously the sole reason I willingly sacrificed my weekend to watch boys play a girl's game. In fact, he died on a netball field, during training.

With Din gone, my only true ties left to the team are Arie, and Mazri. And I could sense from Arie's voice he made the gesture for old times' sake, equating my continuous support for their team, Sonique, as something of a tribute to arwah.

Since Sarah was the team's only other dedicated supporter and she lived just behind Ezwan's, I figured it best to bunk over. Since I had to get up again at 7am, I was planning to just lie in bed and wait for the sun to rise. Still, I think I dozed off for a good one hour before my alarm went off.

Since the game merits an entry of its own, I will say this here for now: I've been to several of their games but this was the first time in a long time that I felt a swell of pride watching the boys play. In spite of it being their first outing since Din's death, plus their lack of training and absence of key players, the boys played splendidly.

Though I made plans to have lunch with NAS, thinking I wouldn't really be in the mood to eat then, I went ahead and joined the guys for lunch in Jaring. Got home around 1:30pm, had a brief nap and got up half an hour later when the lad called.

"Tidur ke?"
"Ha'ah. Why?"

"Muka you ada kesan lipat lagi."

Since I was already full, I ordered a sandwich for the sake of giving me something to do while he ate. As always, the conversation was sparse, like skimming the surface - the weight in my head plus the sleep that I missed hardly encouraged verbal contribution on my part.

To me, it didn't feel fun anymore. For some time now it was becoming more of a convenience, not so much a connection. And apart from the momentary joys that the arrangement brought now and then, I just wasn't feeling it. I could go on in this limbo, but I now couldn't see the need for it.

"I actually have something to talk to you about..."

"Oh? Pasal apa?"

"Well.. uh.. can you park your car somewhere, or something?"

There was no other way to say or do it then to just be straight about it. So I did what I had to do. It sucks, but we just have to do what we gotta do.

"What are your feelings about this?"

Silence. "Well, I guess I have been emotionally passive... maybe I've been too cautious..."

He couldn't even see me eye to eye, something that told me his guards were up and he was going for the defensive. And there was this one time when red flags went up, convincing me that I was doing the right thing. For both of us.

"So you're okay?"

He gave a small nod.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm okay."

Of course, you're okay, I thought. We didn't touch, barely looked at each other.
"Okay. So... goodbye... and, thanks..." My words left me and I got out of the car, without a hug or a kiss or anything. It just felt unreal. I blame it on lack of sleep.

I crashed straight into bed aferwards, embracing the pleasure of finally being able to surrender to slumber. Then the phone beeped.

5:11pm

I dunno what to say...

Then I felt somewhat guilty because I didn't give him the slightest of hints about my intention, catching him off guard like that. In my groggy state, I replied:

5:12pm

You're a nice guy, but we're just not suited for each other. And sincerely, I wish only the best of joy for you. Do take care.

5:13pm

Dun worry... I can deal wif that. I do understand.

"You need a man, not a boy," Kri would say.

"Stop it." I responded. "Whatever the issue, just let me go on record as saying that he is a nice guy."

Only thing is, as all writers know, 'nice' is a four-letter word. If you can't say anything else beyond that, then you're pretty much at a dead end. And where would that take you?

* * *

"I did it," I said out loud, as Ro-ro maneuvered the car along Jalan P. Ramlee. "We broke up."
"Aaaww," Jen voiced, offering a hand on my shoulder, "You okay, hun?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright."
"How did he take it?"
"He was quiet most of the time, which was a bit disappointing because for the very least, I'd like to know his thoughts on it. But he said he was okay."
"How do you feel? Do you feel relief?"
"Well... it's just something I had to do. And honestly, I feel a tad sad, which is something I didn't expect to feel."
"But why?"
"See, we sorta got together on New Year's, right? So to a degree, he was symbolic of what this year was about for me. About change, a new leaf, of greater things... like it or not, he was a part of my life for a good part of this year, and I owe him that. But now that he's out of the picture, it just feels... sad."
"Well, hun, if there's no chemistry, there's not much that you can do about it now, is there?"
"Yeah, I know. I mean, I don't regret it and I know that I won't feel sad about it for long. It's just, 'oh well...' You know? But I do feel slightly guilty..."
"Why should you feel guilty??"
"Because I didn't give him any hints about what I was about to do..."
"True, but you shouldn't feel guilty about it, you didn't do anything wrong."
"I guess. Maybe it's just a reflection of the kind of person I am, you know? I mean, contrary to what you people make of me, I'm not entirely a cold-hearted bitch..."
Silence.
"Erm... hello??"
"Oh, no, no, of course not!" Jen enthused dramatically. "A bitch, you? No lah!"
"Yeah, you're all warm and fuzzy inside," Ro-ro piped in. "Nothing cold about you at all!"
"Oh shuttup!" I replied above their laughs. "Useless, both of you."

Thus was the running joke of the night. Our brand of humour tends to veer towards self-deprecation but that night, whatever likely or unlikely statement I voiced, them two biatches would deliciously and mockingly disagree.
"You, a slut? Not at all!"
"But there's nothing lesbian about you, Z! Nothing at all."

Life would be so dull without such amusement :-)

I was taking Jen and Ro-ro to MP, their first time there, and we all dressed up for the occassion. Jen and I concluded earlier that it was best for her to dress for 'fashion' as opposed to for comfort's sake, because the 'happy' crowd respected a girl with style and thus would not mind her invading their premise. As expected, compared to the other jeans-clad girls walking pass us, Jen was the fiercest in her sack dress and opaque tights.

We were meeting other friends there and even bumped into Malaysia's Worst Stylist. E was there, Zk was there, and the Original Strong Arms was there too, hehe.

Unfortunately for everyone though, about an hour after our arrival, the club came to a quiet and people started making their way towards the exit when officials claimed the place to be operating without a license. When the wait seemed fruitless, the three of us decided to go back to Jen's since Ro-ro felt a need for a little more alcohol and we complemented his thirst with a couple of Ramly burgers.

Ro-ro declared he was going bulimic when I justified his strong memory with the sly, "Well, you know what they say. Elephants can remember..." which then led to a mirthful discussion on butter, supermodels, Tall-Dark-and-Handsome (henceforth, TDH), Mancini's Baby Elephant Walk and Disney's Fantasia. Got home around 3:30am, would have to wake up early again on Sunday for another round of men's netball seeing as the lads managed to get into the semi-finals.

Event: For Him with Private Structure showcase (aka. the most badly-organised event EVER!)

2008-07-18T02:14:00.007+08:00

Thursday night saw me dragging my ass to a men’s underwear show that a friend insisted on checking out. It was for Private Structure (pic below) and the invites said the event was between 9pm-11pm, held in SPACE in Asian Heritage Row.

All I can say is, what a bloody waste of two hours of my life!!! Clearly those who ran the show were amateurs – either that or they were so full of themselves that they had little concern for their guests. Or professionalism. I had a mind to write to Private Structure to complain.

When we got there, a group of people were already standing outside the club at 9pm but not a sign of activity was evident. We saw banners and posters but the doors of the club were closed. There was no representative, no PR guy or even security personnel present to inform the guests where the actual entrance was, or even if the event got cancelled (some of us were beginning to think so) or just slightly delayed.

Now, number one rule of event management: if you send flyers saying it starts at 9pm, the doors should thus OPEN at 9pm! The damn show could begin an hour later for all we care, but those bloody doors should welcome guests in at 9pm. No excuses. Amateurs.

So everyone was left standing outside the club with no hint of what was going on. In the end, some of us hung out at the nearby mamak to have dinner. I was actually hoping that the doors would remain closed so that I could then cajole my friend into skipping it altogether. A little over an hour later, the doors opened so we checked our names on the guests list. We got in with nary a fanfare but unfortunately, some guys were denied entry because they came wearing shorts and club policy dictated that shorts were not allowed into the premise. Which calls to mind another golden rule: know your venue. Most guests were first-timers to the club so again, I fault the organisers because it was their duty to tell guests how to dress accordingly.

The invites said that the event would finish at 11pm but as badly organised events go, the fashion show only started after 11pm. What is wrong with these people?? Have they no respect for other people’s time? Stick to your frigging schedule, dammit! Who did they think they were, Marc Jacobs?? They don’t even have a miniscule of his clout to merit a delayed showcase.

It takes two seconds to slip on a pair of briefs, so why the bloody delay? If I was made to wait more than two stupid hours for an underwear show, I expect elaborate angel wings. But with good reason, Victoria’s Secret this wasn’t.

See, I wouldn’t throw a fuss had the invites stated “Time: 9pm-12am”. But when you say “9pm-11pm”, that means you end – not begin – at 11pm. Stupid organisers. I didn’t even bother checking out the chunks of meat when they began parading on the stage about a quarter past 11 because I got so turned off by such lack of professionalism from the organisers. Besides, the lads who came for the show gravitated toward the stage like moths to a flame, creating a human wall that blocked views for anyone standing just 5 meters away. I just sat myself on one of the bar stools and hoped everything would end by the time my cigarette finished – no such luck. Sigh.

Maybe if this were 10 years ago, a more naïve me would get excited over the show, but come on. What’s a mediocre men’s underwear show compared to the high I get out of a Dior or Chanel showcase (for the very least, they provide hors d'oeuvres, drinks and goodie bags... and actual fashion)?

The event was sooo bodoh. Still, all was not lost. For the very least, the venue was gorgeous (pics below). Space is characterised by smooth concrete floors that rise up to morph into bar tops, seatings and tables, complemented by metallic upholstery. It’s raw chic meets fashion-savvy spaces defined by generous u-shaped sofas, silver-sequined cushions, circular archways and neon pink/blue lights. Even the washrooms are ultra-cool. I was already imagining a fashion shoot in my head.

(pictures of Space taken from yapthomas.com)

So I guess it wasn’t a total waste of two hours of my life.

2008-07-17T18:51:00.000+08:00

I meant to write this a month back but I’ve completely forgotten about it.

It was a Wednesday and I was out all day picking up products for my photo shoots for the day after. When I got back to the office around 6pm, the door to my department was already locked and everyone had left for a party one of the our magazines was throwing that night. Thing was, I couldn’t just go home because my stuff and keys were still in the office.

So there I was with tons of shopping bags and boxes at my feet with noone around to help me. I was tired and couldn’t wait to go home but my notes for the shoot were locked inside and I had some work I had to finish before I wanted to call it a night. I had told my team earlier that I would be coming back but I guess in the excitement of that stupid stupid event, they rushed out and forgot all about me.

In the end I had to leave everything in our stairwell and took a cab all the way to Sri Hartamas, where I was told the event venue was held. I trekked around the area for a good half an hour trying to locate the club but couldn’t find it and to make matters worse I couldn’t call anyone because my phone died on me. I asked around and to my dismay, I was told that the club was actually in Mont Kiara, not Hartamas. Sheesh.

So I had to hail another cab and turned out it was the same guy I came to Hartamas with. “You got lost?” he chuckled. And how I wanted to wipe the smug look on his face with my foot. So he took me to Kiara, dropped me off opposite McD’s because I was told the club was ‘somewhere’ near there. I couldn't find it still so I walked around and asked for directions again and one guy said, “It’s not here, it’s in Sri Hartamas.” I thought, You have got to me kidding me!

I walked around again for a good kilometre or so, navigating my way by instinct and what little info I’ve gathered from people I bumped into. And it needs to be said that I was wearing my leather oxfords. Bloody ‘ell.

I was about to give up and call it a night until I thought ‘Maybe I’ll go in the opposite direction of what the guy earlier had told me and see where that takes me.’ And sure enough, there it was. (Stupid, stupid people who couldn’t give directions!!!)

So I borrowed my boss’ office keys and hung out for a while to catch my breath. When I got back to the office, I then had to transfer all the products (2 small boxes, 2 medium-sized boxes, about 12 paper bags) in the stairwell into our meeting room. My feet were killing me and as I walked to my cubicle to gather my things, I thought out loud, ‘This has been a fairly inconvenient turn of events. I’m stressed and exhausted and about the only thing that could stop me from murdering someone now is if that package from MTV is on my desk right this second…’

Lo and behold, this was on my table:

And this was where it came from:

Good thing noone was around because I practically screamed out like the loon I tend to be. And here’s what was inside the package:

Though I already own some of these, 3 of these CDs I’ve lost, 1 is badly scratched, and apart from the DVD, 2 of the CDs here I have yet to go and buy. So all and all it was worth the RM50 or so of text messages I’ve sent for a good two weeks to MTV with the hope of actually winning this very very cool hamper.

So regardless of how the day went, I’m a happy boy. Thanks MTV for not making a murderer out of me :p

A taste for time: watches by Issey Miyake

2008-07-17T12:33:00.000+08:00

The reason why I don't wear watches is because I've not found models that I really really like. Well, actually, the models that I do really really like I can't afford. Like the Christian Dior Dior Christal in black. Though I'm more Chanel than Dior, the bezel for the Dior Christal intrigues me and I prefer its strap compared to the J12. Nonetheless, I do love the J12; I just love the Christal more.

But if I were to be really serious, I'd opt for Louis Vuitton LV Tambour. It's more of a gentleman's watch, elegant and just oh-so-chantek without trying too hard. I love the Tambour Essential Medium Quartz (can't find the pic but below left is the closest) with brown dial and leather strap (£1,270). The sports version with the rubber strap in black is quite fetching too (below, right) and costs £1,860. I don't see the point of wearing a chronograph so I like my watches to be simple, but somewhat expressive, timeless but contemporary, an uncomplicated, original design. With the Tambour, its the conic shape of the case I admire most, but the contrast between yellow and brown/black and the sleek numericals are great complements.

However, I've come across a new collection of watches that strikes my fancy, from one of my most favourite designers in the world: Issey Miyake. The collection is sleek, clean, understated but powerful, in an array of greys and blacks that epitomises chic sensibility. In other words, they're bloody gooorgeous!!

Among my favourites are the TWELVE range designed by Naoto Fukasawa (left). The designer wanted to create something minimalist but strong so he erased all markings and numericals from the face, leaving only a 12-sided crystal glass to function as hour markers. It's striking in its understatement. I believe it's something Ezwan would love. I'd go for the model with the stainless steel case.

Then there's Shunji Yamanaka's OVO (below), or 'egg' - the centre represents 'the source of life'. Now this, this is sublime. It's organic and futuristic, ultimately high design. The time is displayed via a 3D configuration designed by Yamanaka, what appears to be a living blob that morphs as the time passes. The model with the luminous green dial is my pick though the all-black number is elusive and sexy.

But if I had to choose, out of all the products, I'd go for the TO collection (right pic) by Tokujin Yoshioka. Unlike most watch designs, this timepiece truly embraces and expresses the material it is made of. It's like fashionable hardware, akin to wearing a piece of metallic scuplture on your wrist. The hour and minute markers consist of simple rotating discs. The TO is revolutionary in its simplicity, silently echoing equal measure of strength and elegance (you know, kinda like me :-p). And it comes packaged in a round aluminium canister to allude to its metallic muse.

Each Issey Miyake model costs around £300-400. Find out more about existing collections from Issey Miyake here.

Fall from grace: Rachel Smith vs Crystle Stewart

2008-07-15T14:49:00.024+08:00

Tuesday

You can always rely on Americans for two things: consistency, and great entertainment. And as yesterday's Miss Universe 2008 pageant proved, they didn't disappoint.

Who'd have thought that when Miss USA 2007 Rachel Smith surrendered her crown to Miss USA 2008 Crystle Stewart (pic below), she would pass on her bad luck along with her reign.

Stewart prays, "Oh please, dear God, don't let her jinx me! Oh please oh please oh please..."

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, it's this: last year, Smith tripped and fell hard on her ass during the evening gown portion of the Miss Universe competition. This year, oops, America did it again, only this time by way of Stewart.
Now, anybody working a stage or runway worries about tripping. And it's not neccessarily a bad thing. Naomi Campbell tumbling down for Vivienne Westwood circa 1993? Iconic. Jessica Stam for Chloe Fall 2006? Tragic.

And since everyone's blogging about the incident already, I'm just going to take a different slant on things. Blame the Olympics fever or whatever, but here goes:

Event: the Miss USA/Miss Universe Fall From Grace

The Landing

By any standards, this is epic. You don't need to view the video to realise the severe gravity of this fall. Observe how the hem of Smith's skirt cuts across the air, how her foot is sent flying as she tumbles hard on her rump, legs stretched out before her. Notice the hair sweeping across her face, and the strain on her lips and jaw. There is fluidity, and great exertion in her execution but, alas, nothing about the fall is graceful, so minus points there. But still, epic.
Points: 2.7/3.0

Stewart trips and lands in a sitting down position. This in comparison is rather uneventful. But what she lacks in drama, she makes up for it in grace - she maintains a good-natured smile, even laughs a little, so you cannot help but to cheer her on. If Smith's is a tragedy, this is light-hearted comedy. Only problem being, when it comes to falling down, we want drama. It has to be dramatic to be memorable. This isn't.
Points: 2.4/3.0

The Dismount

Shocked by her fall, like an automatic reflex Smith bounces back to her feet speedily. But it's too defensive a move, and too ignorant an ascent. Her face is fixed in a stoic response, acting as if the tumble never happened. Perhaps the result of too abrupt a fall, she fails to properly access her predicament. Though effective, her dismount is devoid of emotion, of sass. It's a very brief denial on her part (and we all know I'm an expert at denial).
The thing is, once you make a mistake, it's better to acknowledge it, even moreso when millions see you land on your heinie. Naomi laughed herself silly when she crashed, and Stam smiled to herself, obviously containing a chuckle. Smith takes her fall too seriously, and as a result comes off like a robot.
Points: 1.2/2.0

Stewart recognises the embarassment of her downfall but she chooses to laugh it off as she proceeds to pick herself up then clap her hands above her head to invite applause from the audience. She connects to her viewers, handling the situation with great aplomb. And she remains elegant - notice how she keeps her knees together as she rises, like a lady should. She turns a humiliating incident into something of an inside-joke. You go, girl!
Points: 2.0/2.0

The Recovery

Now this is when things start getting interesting.

Rachel gives us a few coquettish twirls and begins to take charge of the situation. She even cocks an eyebrow to the camera, and brushes her hair, as if saying, 'Okay, I tripped. But I came here to win this so I'm gonna give it all I got still. I'm not defeated yet.' So we see her effortlessly collecting herself as she proceeds with her walk - its well-poised, confident and classy. She appears to be just slightly affected by the fall still but she's working it with all that she's got left. Her smile radiates strongly from then on.
Points: 2.8/3.0

Unfortunately, the opposite can be said for Crystle. As she continues her walk, one can observe on her face that nerves are getting to her but she's trying to hide it. Her smile wavers from strong to uncertain, then flashing her pearly whites again but when her back is turned towards the audience as she nears the rear of the stage, that strong smile fades. Her strut feels rushed, and without realising it she hikes her skirt too high. Borne out of fear of tripping again, the act makes her lose her elegance - hiking the skirt only widens the high slit in the front - and we lose the appeal of the dress, which is what this portion of the competition is all about.
Points: 1.7/3.0

Difficulty

Hands down, Rachel is in a worse state, but her challenge only peaked after the dressing gown portion. Still, in preliminary rounds, she's been booed by the Mexican audience yet she perseveres, not letting the taunts get to her - this is a strong young woman. Amid all the heckling, she closes her question-and-answer round with "Buenos noches, Mexico" - here is a lady with real class. That alone justifies her position in the final five, in spite of her fall.
Points: 1.6/2.0

Aside from some distracting dancers prior to her entrance, Crystle have to deal with momentary darkness before the spotlight hits her. There must have been a bit of a delay with the light too because they had to announce her twice. And then she has those steps she has to climb down, that might have contributed to her fall whereas Rachel's runway is flat. Though Stewart's difficulties are more physical then social, when you have a billion pair of eyes on you, every little obstacle is magnified in its threat.
Points: 1.8/2.0

The Verdict

And the winner of who-deals-her-fall-from-grace-at-the-Miss-Universe-pageant-better is... RACHEL! (with 8.3 against 7.9)

Come on, her fall is more memorable and her recovery is just remarkable. She wins hands down - hah! Kudos to her :-)

Seriously though, I believe if Rachel played her cards right, she could've won the crown.. okay, maybe come second at least. She was asked by judge Tony Romo to pick one moment in her life she would relive. If she had fun with the competition and jokingly referred to her fall prior to seriously answering the question, I believe she had a higher chance at winning. That fall could've worked to her advantage.

And oh, since everyone's been talking about Crystle's tumble, nobody really focused on a a more significant development with regards to the pageant: Riyo Mori, Miss Universe 2007, is easily the most fashion forward Miss Universe EVER. Back in 2007, when every girl bared ample amount of skin to appear sexy in the evening gown round, Riyo came out in a billowy, long-sleeved printed dress by Gucci and worked the dress brilliantly. Then, while most winners would opt for a more casual gown when she has to pass on her reign to the new Miss Universe, Riyo strutted out in a sharp fitting tuxedo/jodhpurs ensemble (left pic) that was slick, sophisticated and sassy. I think she's the first Miss Universe to come on stage wearing pants. Girlfriend's got style!

You do not bail on your friends...

2008-07-09T18:15:00.006+08:00

Wednesday, July 9, '08

So last night, Kri and I was planning to take Fari out for a little birthday outing and since I had free passes for the screening of the movie 21, we made plans with Zai to meet up in Cineleisure at about 8:30pm.

Midway through the trip from Subang to Damansara, I foolishly made dinner plans with a fine specimen of a man (an old friend I've reacquainted myself with), thinking since we won't be talking in the cinema hall anyway, I could just let my friends enjoy the movie while I indulge in some nosh and witty repartee with my would-be companion. "You guys won't mind, right?" I asked.

Thinking that bailing out was an option, Kri then decided he wanted to catch Wanted instead since he saw 21 already. "What?" Fari responded, "And I skipped my (gym) class for this??"

I realised I was being selfish, but I have my reasons. But it's never right to bail out on friends, even more so when you're taking them out for a supposed birthday treat. Well, it turned out, karma decided to side with Fari that night.

The dashboard of the Citroen MPV we were in suddenly started blinking whereever there were lights to blink. Suddenly, as we were passing the notorious Kelana Jaya lake, our four-wheeled vessel stopped, forcing us to let it slide to the side of the road. And it refused to start then after. An LDP tow truck helped to pull the car to the Shell station nearby where it was safer for us to wait for help.

So I had to cancel my dinner (dammit!). Furthermore, I just realised today that the aforementioned free movie passes are for two Tuesdays from now, not last night.

It has finally happened. I've been hanging around them for too long that I have now become one of them: I am officially a perem bod*. Head, meet wall.

Lesson learned: never abandon your friends for men no matter how fun they promise to be.

The car was some fancy-schmancy vehicle that needed specific attention (something wrong with its wiring) so Fari could only send it off to their one trusted mechanic, who was all the way in Wangsa Maju. And there was some trouble with acquiring a tow truck so we ended up sitting by the curb near Shell for a good 3 hours. Bloody 'ell.

For the very least, I deserved that but all was not loss: us girls sat down for a sad makeshift picnic by the curb, drinking cola with chips, chocolate, ciggies and doughnuts. But it was a predicament that invited hilarity.
"This birthday is so sad..."
"No, Fari! Look at it this way - you will remember this forever. Because it's so silly!"
"Yeah. How many people can boast of such a celebration?? You'll look back on this and say 'Remember the time my car borke down?' It's hilarious!"
We toasted Fari's last year as a 20-something. And I couldn't help but to do drunk slut. I do such an over-the-top impression of a drunk slut.
"You!" I slurred, swaying from side to side as I flickered a finger his way. "You're a real friend, Fari. What would I do without you?? I LOVE YOU!" I exclaimed, pretending to fight back tears.

It actually turned out to be a great night. We talked about relationships past, present and possible future and reminisced about how we met, and who introduced who to whom, then bitched about friends and scandals and lesbionic escapades. There were quite a number of revelations that night too. I've never truly gave them a full report on 'manusia paling lahanat dalam dunia', and in true fashion, Kri did a Charlotte and said, "Urgh. God, I wish I won't run into him or anything. If I did, I'd go, "I curse the day you were born!!"

Friends. You gotta love them.

A.

*literally stupid woman

in memoriam: Halimuddin Sukaiman, September 10, 1979 - May 14, 2008

2008-05-15T03:39:00.005+08:00

Yesterday, Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Ko kat mane?

On the way pi ofis, dah nak sampai Masjid Jamek.

Aku tgh breakfast kat McD sebelah ofis kau ni :)

Ye ke? Boleh join tak?

Habis, buat apa aku sms kau??

Kejap lagi aku dtg, nak kuar duit jap. Duduk belah bwh tau, atas panas.

As with every time I see him, I get a swell of goodness when I see Din. Like Yus, and Ezwan or Zaki, I am very fond of Halim. And whenever we meet up out of spontaneity, he would give me his sideways smirk, a look made all the more comic by his sideways stare.

"Apa ko buat kat sini??"

It was out of coincidence that I found myself there: My boss had called me the day before and forced me to supervise a shoot in Bandar Baru Bangi today, an assignment that involved having to find my way to Bukit Jalil station by 8:30am. Since I got to Masjid Jamek earlier than expected, and seeing as we've not hung out since Mazri's visit back in mid-April, I figured it was time Halim and I caught up on each other.
The usual banter ensued, bitching about people who have irked him in one way or another. He was animated as ever, always the jester. What warmed me was that in spite of our time apart, the trust between us was still rock solid.
"Ni aku citer kat kau sorang jer tau, jangan citer kat orang lain. Aku serius ni!"
Needless to say, our conversation is never without laughter, interspersed with the odd serious talk on things we have no control over in life. Afterwards, once we were done with our cigarettes, we parted ways.
"Bye, yang."
"Ok, nanti-nanti kita lepak lagi. Jaga diri, Lim."

Normally, I would hug and kiss him like I do with all my dearest friends but since we were in the middle of the bustling morning crowd, I just shook his hand and patted his lower back. I made a mental note to spare some time to hang out with him soon, perhaps the week after to just chill and have a good laugh.

Today, Wednesday, May 14, 2008

11:29am Khairul Nizam called. "Apa mimpi kau call aku malam-malam buta ni??" I replied, assuming maybe he wanted to catch up on things since our chat the night before ended too briefly.
"Aziz..."
His voice sounded hollow and it was obvious that was crying. I imagined it to be some sort of personal crisis or other. "Arie... what's up?" I asked.
"Din dah takde lagi."
"WHAT??"
"Din... Din dah takde."
"Din 'Cik Din'? Halim??"
"A ah."

Then my whole body went numb. Din is dead.

* * *

1:58am
I still can't believe it. I saw him and yet I still cannot believe it...

2:05am
I know dear it's hard. I have no words to offer. it has not sunk into me yet because like u said, i cannot believe it too... He was my most loyal friend :-(
-Mazri

I love you, Lim. You were a phenomenal friend. Semoga Allah merahmati roh kau dan mengampunkan segala dosa-dosa kau.

I miss you so much already.

Innalillah hiwainna illahi raaji'uun...

A.

The Plan B Reunion BBQ

2008-04-14T01:14:00.004+08:00

Most Favourite Photographer in the World to Work with i.e. Chris, was in town so the Hyper bunch planned a Sunday BBQ dinner to celebrate his return. He said he will be working in KL again, so yay!

L-R: Chris; at the BBQ pit with Mary and Kelvin

Thing is, getting your ideas across to another creative mind is not easy, but Chris and I speak the same visual language. We have great chemistry together. Even when I'm at a lost, once we sit in the studio together with all the products out in front of us, magic happens. Here are some of the work we've done together:

"AT YOUR OWN WRIST"
This was a products shoot on accessories for men - a lot of bangles and wristlets, rings and pendants made of gold, leather, rattan, wood, onyx from Gucci, Asprey, Hugo Boss, Hermes etc. I knew I wanted something sculptural on a gold background, and as I arranged the pieces, the composition turned architectural and that was how Chris shot them, like they were mini buildings. The opening page (above, far left) came by accident - I erected the rings on their sides with the chain passing through them, kinda like a train. It didn't work visually and I was at my wit's end until Chris took hold of one end of the chain and lifted everything up. "Hey, that looks good!" I said, so that was how we got that shot.

"THE AFTER PARTY"
These were for products that featured prints, be them embossed, patched or painted on. The concept was to create an environment mimicking a house post-wild night, and the products were things guests left behind amid all the nocturnal chaos. Like clues found the morning after to suggest what might went on that night.

For props, Mary lent us her furry carpet, and I bought balloons, streamers and party hats, then used chinese tea in place of scotch whisky and Ribena for red wine. To clutter the table, we simply used our cigarette stubs and I crushed some Pringles for crumbs.

Chris' studio had a split-level, with three steps between the two levels. To create multiple settings, we pushed his red bath mat against these steps, creating what looked like a red-carpeted staircase (above, immediate right) where someone had dropped their wallet.

"TRAVELLING COMPANIONS"
This was a straight-forward products spread of some toiletries kit from Tod's and Aigner with grooming products from Lab Series, Biotherm, Shiseido, Aesop, Zirh, Murad, Clinique and Molton Brown. I wanted a somewhat gritty backdrop so we went to Chris' balcony, and laid everything flat on the rough cement floor, making sure to have a mix of smooth versus cracked floor areas for variety. It was Chris' idea to add the picturesque images of beaches in the background to further suggest the idea of travel.

* * *

The night of the barbecue - as all of our gatherings - were high on perverted humour, much thanks to Kelvin, and good food, courtesy of Chris. He marinated the chicken, stuffed some squid, got some otak-otak specially from Johore, and made mashed potatoes, tomato salad and some mushroom thing (more variety for Shuz, who is vegetarian).

Mary, wondering what the occassion was for, later asked, "Is this a Plan B reunion?"

It didn't occur to us at first but when we gathered the threads together, we realised she had a point - all of us more or less came from the same cloth. Eug, Jen, Johnnie, Sam and I were on the editorial team - writing, styling and, sometimes, even modelling (we were that cheap, hahaha). Choen, Mary and Chris photographed for us. Fang was featured in a spread for Nike. Kelvin did some articles and Jit performed during the mag's 1st year anniversary.

"You know, all of us together could come up with one hell of a magazine," Mary continued.
"Of course we could. But we're missing the one thing we all really need," I offered, "Money. Lots of it."
"And noone's gonna read the mag anyway, hahaha!" said Jit.

Good point. Collectively, we aren't exactly a mainstream bunch, which was why Plan B suffered an immature demise. But it was because we were a niche publication that we could push the envelope in terms of content and styling to offer something different to readers and our clients. They know we could put a new spin on things. So much so that when Discovery Channel's Ian Wright came down to KL, we were the only local mag given exclusivity to take him out of the hotel and shoot him for our cover. Ditto designer extraordinaire, Karim Rashid. Other times, we were the only local mag that dared to show only a pair of legs on our cover (belonging to the sexy VJ Sarah Tan). Check out our unofficial website here.

Here's some links to few of our fans:

Eye On Everything
Iced Tea Tragedy

So here's to one hell of a magazine.

A.

PS. And oh, Chris got me a very belated birthday present. It was a silver ring that has a rotating outer middle ring, kinda like the Keira rings from Asprey. So cool!

Taking back the night

2008-04-13T08:03:00.005+08:00

Oh my God, I can't believe it.

I must've been in some kind of a lull this past month. I mean, blame it on work, on grey areas, on the string of less than happy news concerning dear dear friends, but I have not been feeling this kinda buzz for some time now. I feel like I've been missing out on some serious, serious fun. I feel like I've been catatonic all this while.

I still can't believe it. I'm still buzzing. After 3-4 years of lacklustre venues and second-rate clubs, the KL night scene is alive again - we've actually found a club that we totally like!!

It felt like Velvet circa 2002, or Bluebar 2003 and Frangipani of 2004, times when we owned the night and the music. When we never stood by the sidelines - we were dead centre of the dance floor busting our moves. It hasn't been that way for too long a wait.

But last night rocked!! Best of all, my old partners-in-crime were there - me, E and Sm.
"Oh my God!!"
"I've not seen you for so long!"
"I know!"
U, Sk and N were with us too. Then another familiar face came into view, an old partner-in-crime from a different fraternity: Zaki :o)
"Oh my God, you came!"
"I knew you'd be here too! I saw your name on the RSVP list!"
Ae, Zm and Sh were there, then Nz, Az, W, Jm, and Ad... and to great surprise, Weechee and Chris too.
"Oh my God, Z!"
"Shooter! Wow, fancy meeting you here!"

It was like I entered a world where all my lost club friends were. No formulaic musical line-up. No drag performances to slow us down. And no wannabes dressing too hard to impress. The music was pulsing nothing but current dance remixes. We were dancing non-stop - it was that fantastic!

See, when it comes to the club scene, I am very hard to please. Because I have a great respect and love for music and dance. The dance floor is a sanctuary that’s supposed to transport us away from reality, allowing us to let loose and free our inhibitions, to be with friends and have the time of our lives like there’s no tomorrow. The dance floor is where our hearts beat as one. And last night, as I climbed the stairs down to the inner sanctum, I could feel it. The rush. After years of searching, we have found our dance heaven, a paradise tucked away in an urban cul-de-sac away from the horrid crowd of Jalan P. Ramlee.

It was like reliving our hedonistic heyday of disco. Of course, I admit I can at times get carried away when I'm on the dancefloor because as serious as this skin appears to the uninformed eye, there's a wild child inside. Sometimes when the times are too good, I tend to revert to my lesbionic tendencies, which isn't necessarily a bad sign, hahaha. I mean, 5 years ago I'd probably have my shirt off already and my tongue would be on somebody's pierced nipple. Aaahh, to be young again :-p

But this was a more sohisticated crowd, I'll tell you that. It was a grown-up club. Not to say that last night was without its dips in the pool of debauchery. I mean, someone was kissing everyone. Someone else was holding lit cigarettes and passing it to any lips he came across. And someone else was getting chummy with someone he probably shouldn't - or was that more or less what everyone was doing, hmmm?

"Can I kiss you?" "Oh my God, so-and-so is making out in the toilet so so-and-so nak pegi and ambush them, hahaha!" "You're a good kisser..." "He said out of all the guys he's been with, I'm the best rimmer!" "You suka kat whatsisname ke? But don't you have a boyfriend?" "This is just like old times!!" "I know!" "Go kiss him!" "Eee, tak nak lah!" "Eh, dah pandai minum sekarang?" "They're playing my song!" "Hey, it's your song!" "Oh my God, look! They're kissing!" "You fancy whatsisname ke? I thought you were seeing someone?" "Find a cute Malay boy for me lah..." "Oh my God, semua orang suka whatsisname ok? So kena masuk queue..." "I LOVE THIS PLACE!!"

Quite exhilarating night, for sure. I have to keep reminding myself not to get carried away too much.

"God, we are such sluts..."
"I know! Hahaha..."
"So, you enjoyed yourself?"
"Yup, best giler!"
"Well, we better enjoy it puas-puas sebelum adik-adik pindah sini."
"So coming again next week?"

Sure. Why not?

A.