under the blanket

Off days have gotta be the most precious things in working life. I love the feeling of waking up late, meeting up with old friends for lunch, breezing past office drones in Shenton Way while wearing my flip flops, catching a cheap mid-day movie on my own, and basically having all the time in the world for me to fritter away.

So I was off on Thursday and Friday. Merely two days but it felt so good to be away from the office -- though the dastardly editor called me to assign me a story anyway.

Went retro mad on Thursday at the Salvation Army. Bought fake pearl bracelets ($6), lovely tarnished silver pin in the shape of a key ($3), and the most beautiful pair of crystal drop earrings ($3). And on a rack, among the ugliest bridesmaid outfits in the world, I discovered a 1970s green dress with bird prints which fit me so perfectly, it’s as if it was made to measure. And it only cost me $8.

Although it freaks my mum out whenever I come home with clothes and bags that dead people might have used, it makes me feel that these items are a bit more special because I’m sharing in a bit of history.

Then it was down to Chinatown to our favourite accessories shop for vintage brooches. Bought some more pretty ones to add to growing collection. Have already pinned a bronze brooch with giant fake diamond onto my denim jacket and it’s a perfect match.

Such bimbotic things make me deliriously happy.

Friday, though, was a day of disappointment.

Managed to catch Lost In Translation at last in the afternoon, but it was one of those movies which did not live up to expectations. Or perhaps I was expecting too much, after all the Oscars hype.

I found it tedious and self-absorbed, the lines weren’t particularly sharp or funny or poignant, and it seemed slightly rude to laugh at the expense of the Japanese, no matter how weird or funny their quirks might be. The actors were good, but I wasn’t particularly touched by them.

I only perked up when Charlotte went on a day trip to Kyoto, cos I was mentally exclaiming: “I was there! At the shrine! At the pond with the stepping stones! At the giant temple courtyard! I love Kyoto!”

We had great plans on Friday night to go for the launch of Absolut Vanilia, cos I had shamelessly wrangled an invite from the PR gal. And I was dying to wear the one last new outfit I bought from Bangkok, which was too clubby to wear anywhere else. It was a nude coloured tube, with flimsy bits of lace around the boobs and waist. My sis insisted that it looked like granny underwear, though of course I disagreed.

Naturally, I just had to match it with the vintage crystal earrings. Perfect.

But the event turned out to be over by the time we arrived, fashionably late by two hours. Luckily, we still managed to get in and got free drinks as well, cheapskates that we were. But the vanilla taste wasn’t quite as nice as I thought it would be, even though I am a big fan of all things vanilla.

Somehow, all our friends abandoned us and it was only me and my lurve at Velvet. We felt like such losers that we decided to call it a night and left before it even struck midnight. That was unprecedented -- heck, sometimes we were only just getting ready for a night out at that hour -- and also left us perturbed. Could our clubbing days be over?