23 April 2014

Please Don't Go, Stay with Me Tonight, Let Me Borrow You

Thomas Dutronc - J'aime plus Paris
, courtesy of le copain

It's one of those nights when you come home from a long, tiring day at work and all you want to do is sit back and wind down and savour the sublime beauty of leisure, preferably with a hot cup of fragrant tea, warm and delicious scented. And perhaps immerse yourself in a good read or film or the company of a loved one or Fashion Gone Rogue, languorously scouring for beautiful editorials. This is one of them,

Du Juan and Edwin K by Vincent Peters for Numero China. I found it particularly exotic and very sensual, a tad mysterious, placing emphasis on some of the many things I love about the Orient. I adore couple editorials — they usually speak volumes to me. Also because I garner ideas and inspiration for potential couple shoots with the beau, or l'amant. We've only done one proper one so far and it's been quite some time since. Every other picture has been self-taken — and with a trusty timer, if you're wondering.

Bonne nuit, my beauty sleep calls.


Image credits: Fashion Gone Rogue

15 April 2014

Tonight I Sleep with Your Cologne On, and Nothing Else

It's midnight. I dim the lights and slip into bed, moulding myself with the thick covers, warm and buttery soft. It's the very first night once again, and like all first nights, I long for your arms around me and the smell of your skin. I always feel a bit like the women you hear of in stories, books and film, women — damsels (in distress or not, is irrespective) — who wait for their partners to return from war or sea. A sailor, or soldier. You're both to me, strong in character with a wonderful eye for exploration.

I sink deeper into the covers, allowing them to envelop me entirely. You would tuck us both in with such care, pulling the covers over us, making sure I'm completely covered and no inch of my body is left exposed to the wintry (yes, it is as such when you sleep in my vicinity) chill of the air-conditioning. You would gently tuck my hair behind my ear with your fingers, and run those very same fingers through my hair, knowing the intricacies of my preference for such a simple action, because you know just how I like it and how it inevitably lulls me into a slumber if done right.

You would then look at me, into me, your eyes soft and warm like deep, rich pools of chocolate. Saying all things unsaid. You look at me like no one has ever looked at me before. And it is that very instance, when I feel like the most precious and cherished person in this world.

Your arms would wrap around me, warm and strong and protective, shielding me from the battles of the world, and I would melt into you. You would pull me even closer and bury your nose into my hair, breathing me in and sighing in sheer content. I would feel your lips there, soft like the inside of a rose, and you would kiss my head good night, nuzzling it a little before drifting off to sleep yourself. Everything else would then melt away, far off in the misty distance.

The sheets and pillows still smell of you, and I bury my face in them, getting lost in your familiar and comforting scent before falling into a deep slumber. Come back to me soon, dear boy. I miss you.


09 April 2014

Birthday Foxes & Gilded Opportunities

From my birthday soirée at SkyBar, with my foxes (sans Jade, who arrived shortly after) — it was a wonderful night of sky-high drinks, good company, and dancing until dawn. More pictures from the night later on!

And so the first quarter of the year has gone by, and what a phenomenal three/four months it's been! I can hardly believe it's already April — the fourth chapter of the year, and so much has happened since 2014 was ushered in with champagne and the promise of fresh starts and new beginnings. March was my birthday month and this year was inarguably the best birthday I've had so far, and for so many reasons — here's to turning twenty-three!

I've still yet to write about the things I've been up to since then but I've been so very busy, although I'd say it's the good kind of busy, in which I'm absolutely thankful for. That being said, I've been using these minuscule slots of highly-cherished time to write, and am planning to allocate more time for blogging as I still enjoy it immensely.

On another note, I'm also currently working on a number of personal projects as well as exploring and planning new endeavours for the future, both short-term and long-term, and am beyond excited as there's been a few opportunities that came my way which I've decided to take up — although I've decided not to disclose anything just yet!

So with all that said, writing the experiences down in this space will help me stay on top of things and keep track of it all. I promise I'll share more soon, and as always, thanks for reading and giving me even more drive to write! Lots of love,


02 April 2014

Private Lives

I love suggestion. I love the idea of exposing only a hint of a notion, and deliberately (or otherwise) covering up the rest. It leaves something to the imagination, leaving the mind to wander, and wonder. Like a brief but seductively insightful glimpse into something private, something usually kept hidden — into our private lives, our sanctuaries, those of which we deem as beautiful, sacred experiences not meant to be shared openly. It doesn't have to be a blatant display, but rather a subtle but tantalising slip of exposure.

I do see the beauty in both though, in how certain things are indeed meant to be kept private, either for the thrill of it, or for the liberty of having a space you can call your own, impenetrable by others, and also in being transparent, and sharing bits of your private life with strangers, others. Call it a tad voyeuristic, but that's how I become inspired by others — by getting delicious glimpses into their private lives, their secrets, their well-kept sanctuaries. And it makes them and the world around us even more beautiful.

That's how I like it. I like the suggestion, the suggestiveness, the quick glimpse into something you're not supposed to see, or perhaps even something you are actually supposed to see, out of sheer intention. I like the openness and the vulnerability and the transparency and the absolute liberty in it all. I find it beautiful, divine, breathtaking.

But it's not intrusion, mind you. It's something not to be interrupted or disrupted. It's something to be seen, savoured, and be inspired by, in all its radiant glory. A beautiful object, a beautiful experience, anything. The possibilities are endless. Something that tells you more about someone, or something. Slightly naked, not too overexposed. Sometimes it leaves you wanting more, sometimes it doesn't — because it's just right.

Just like that.


20 March 2014

White Orchids

Twenty-nine floors up in the gleaming marble grandeur of the Grand Suite's enormous powder room overlooking the sun-soaked, late-evening city skyline, the air is lightly scented, fragrant. There I preside, a woman in her boudoir, dolling up for the night, partaking in all that a woman does before a highly-anticipated date. Oh, you know the type. The type that sends delicious shivers up and down your entire body hours leading up to it.

We were back in the suite after a very decadent late-afternoon tea and chocolate buffet ever so tastefully laid out on the panoramic thirty-eighth floor of the hotel, getting ready for the night's dinner and drinks even higher up on the fifty-seventh floor of another sky-scraping tower. It was a special night, after all, and like all special nights, we wanted to make the very most of it.

I slip my dress on, a classic black number I love. I love how it fits, accentuating all the right areas. My heels are by the door, lounging languorously beside his black leather oxfords, waiting for the night to begin. I tiptoe slightly, leaning over the vast marble counter and look into the crystal clear mirror whilst applying just the slightest bit of gloss onto my lips. I run it ever so lightly over my twin bows, a soft, delicately tinted sheen trailing smoothly behind.

I shift my eyes back to the marble counter as I set my tube of lipgloss down, only to notice him standing by the entrance of the powder room a few feet away from me, his much taller frame leaning against the side of the cold marble wall, looking at me with warm, deep brown eyes, bits of an affectionate smile playing at the corners of his lips.

'If I could wake up to this every morning — you getting ready. Mm.'

It's always a beautiful thing to know someone appreciates you as much as you do them.