In my shoes
My boyfriend offered to pay for a pair of Kate Spade ballet shoes for me. In true Park-Avenue-meets-Cher fashion, I chose the pair that’s PINK and SUEDE. These overtly happy shoes stay in the box, perfectly wrapped in their 100% cotton dust bags, and only go out when I need pick-me-uppers (Mondays and Fridays, usually). They’re my most treasured possession.
I am becoming chic. Let me phrase this more accurately. I am not just trying to become more stylish – I HAVE BECOME more stylish. This state of elegance is an actuality; it’s not just in my head.
I am still not fashionable, though. I still don’t buy the latest-“it”-things, and during lazy days, I still insist on using my dirty Lacoste sneeks with my jogging pants to work. But because I am now stylish, there’s an apparent difference. Even during those sluggish, unfashionable days, I wear a nice watch or diamond studs. My hair would be moussed away from my face, ala Grace Kelly. Somehow, overnight, I stopped looking like the college girl who has no money for lunch. I just woke up one day looking like a laid-back woman of leisure – the kind who wears cashmere tracksuits, dines in nice restaurants, buys art.
I don’t mean for this to happen -- it just does. For about 4 out of 7 days in a week, my stylishness shows. Mid-length shorts with Tods flats and Marc Jacobs top. Brown Prada driving shoes with a shirt that actually matches. Skinny bottom with a breezy Balenciaga tunic. Name the stylish ensemble, and I probably have it.
I owe my newfound stylishness to two things – my recent closet audit, and Gretchen Barretto. I threw out shirts that screamed COLLEGE KID and did a complete inventory of the ‘nicer’ things I own. When in doubt, I asked: Would Gretchen wear this?
After the audit, I realized that I actually have quite a few of those nice-classic-pricier clothes and accessories that fall under that "lazy but tasteful" category. I have forgotten about most of them because they’re stashed in the back of the closet. Hello, vintage Norma Kamali jacket. We meet again.
And that was how I became stylish overnight.
DISCLAIMER: Don’t get me wrong – I’m still a one-minute dresser. I still throw on the first thing I see. BUT because I rid my closet of ugly things, the first things I see now are actually NICE clothes. Ergo, whatever I throw on IS stylish.
Let’s move on.
F*ck you, Wagyu
Like any starved yuppie who deserves a nice meal every now and then, I've been dreaming of the elusive Wagyu steak since the day I learned to balance my checkbook. To reward myself after a week of hard work, I went to a New-York-joint-wannabe resto (name withheld). They serve Wagyu steak for the hefty price of P4,000+.
I nearly fainted. This is how much bottom sirloin of a fat Japanese cow costs? Invested in mutual funds at 15% PA, the money I am paying for this piece of acetabulofemoral joint would be enough to buy me a whole cow upon retirement.
Anyway, I went ahead and ordered it, and just prayed I would get my money’s worth.
Sure, it melts in the mouth like butter.
Sure, it tastes wonderfully different, like a mongrel cow.
Sure, it smells wonderful.
But I doubt that I’m forking over that much money for a steak again.
You’re overrated, Wagyu.
I would go back for the chocolate-mint dessert, though.
The week ahead
There’s so much I have to finish. We’re launching four more websites, taking care of client websites, supplying new services for an old client who came back from the dead. On top of that, I have to manage the company’s cash flow, review projections, manage my own investments, and even prepare a condominium unit we own for renting out. Oh, and I’m supposed to buy a notebook and a calculator for that three-day class I’m taking – accounting for non-accountants. That should be a shocker.
I’m also trying to get a personal project off the ground. Remember, I talked about launching a finance website for yuppie Filipinos? Well I haven’t gotten around to actually planning it. I have a domain name and all, but no outline, no content, no time to do anything else.
Now would be a good time to look at my happy shoes.
I am becoming chic. Let me phrase this more accurately. I am not just trying to become more stylish – I HAVE BECOME more stylish. This state of elegance is an actuality; it’s not just in my head.
I am still not fashionable, though. I still don’t buy the latest-“it”-things, and during lazy days, I still insist on using my dirty Lacoste sneeks with my jogging pants to work. But because I am now stylish, there’s an apparent difference. Even during those sluggish, unfashionable days, I wear a nice watch or diamond studs. My hair would be moussed away from my face, ala Grace Kelly. Somehow, overnight, I stopped looking like the college girl who has no money for lunch. I just woke up one day looking like a laid-back woman of leisure – the kind who wears cashmere tracksuits, dines in nice restaurants, buys art.
I don’t mean for this to happen -- it just does. For about 4 out of 7 days in a week, my stylishness shows. Mid-length shorts with Tods flats and Marc Jacobs top. Brown Prada driving shoes with a shirt that actually matches. Skinny bottom with a breezy Balenciaga tunic. Name the stylish ensemble, and I probably have it.
I owe my newfound stylishness to two things – my recent closet audit, and Gretchen Barretto. I threw out shirts that screamed COLLEGE KID and did a complete inventory of the ‘nicer’ things I own. When in doubt, I asked: Would Gretchen wear this?
After the audit, I realized that I actually have quite a few of those nice-classic-pricier clothes and accessories that fall under that "lazy but tasteful" category. I have forgotten about most of them because they’re stashed in the back of the closet. Hello, vintage Norma Kamali jacket. We meet again.
And that was how I became stylish overnight.
DISCLAIMER: Don’t get me wrong – I’m still a one-minute dresser. I still throw on the first thing I see. BUT because I rid my closet of ugly things, the first things I see now are actually NICE clothes. Ergo, whatever I throw on IS stylish.
Let’s move on.
F*ck you, Wagyu
Like any starved yuppie who deserves a nice meal every now and then, I've been dreaming of the elusive Wagyu steak since the day I learned to balance my checkbook. To reward myself after a week of hard work, I went to a New-York-joint-wannabe resto (name withheld). They serve Wagyu steak for the hefty price of P4,000+.
I nearly fainted. This is how much bottom sirloin of a fat Japanese cow costs? Invested in mutual funds at 15% PA, the money I am paying for this piece of acetabulofemoral joint would be enough to buy me a whole cow upon retirement.
Anyway, I went ahead and ordered it, and just prayed I would get my money’s worth.
Sure, it melts in the mouth like butter.
Sure, it tastes wonderfully different, like a mongrel cow.
Sure, it smells wonderful.
But I doubt that I’m forking over that much money for a steak again.
You’re overrated, Wagyu.
I would go back for the chocolate-mint dessert, though.
The week ahead
There’s so much I have to finish. We’re launching four more websites, taking care of client websites, supplying new services for an old client who came back from the dead. On top of that, I have to manage the company’s cash flow, review projections, manage my own investments, and even prepare a condominium unit we own for renting out. Oh, and I’m supposed to buy a notebook and a calculator for that three-day class I’m taking – accounting for non-accountants. That should be a shocker.
I’m also trying to get a personal project off the ground. Remember, I talked about launching a finance website for yuppie Filipinos? Well I haven’t gotten around to actually planning it. I have a domain name and all, but no outline, no content, no time to do anything else.
Now would be a good time to look at my happy shoes.
posted by Ingrid C. at 1:48 PM
4 comments
