i love skirts

I am one of those girls who have more skirts and dresses than pants. As of this moment I only have one pair of jeans, and three pairs of linen capris that I use for running errands by public commute (not counting jogging pants and pajama bottoms). I have at least ten dresses. I have about twenty skirts, if not more, all A-line and mostly printed. I find skirts to be comfortable and pretty and they are very forgiving. A-line skirts are perfect for my body shape and size. It is also very easy to dress them up or down.

I recently discovered these wonderful pretty skirts from grevilleadesign at Etsy and I thought I found skirt heaven. Here are some of my favorite pieces:

skirts by grevilleadesign

a practice in battling myself

One unresolved aspect of my life is my kendo practice. I keep on telling others and myself that I do it for the whole "spirit" thing, that whole idea of conquering yourself and your fears and challenging yourself to do things you don't normally do. They are all true but they are not the whole truth. I'm not even sure yet if they are even half the truth.

I started kendo practice in July of 2007. That's four and a half years. That's one of the longest I have ever committed to anything that does not exactly make me feel like the best of myself. It takes a lot from me. As an introvert I am not a fan of too much social interaction. I never joined any clubs in college and I was an expert at minimizing my presence and participation in company events. For me to show up every Saturday and actually confront an opponent -- that is something. I surprise myself every time.

I have had my many issues about practicing kendo. But as I look back on all those years, those issues were mostly things that surrounded my practice. With my limited vision and my too-vulnerable emotions, I often mistook the distractions as the practice itself or thought them to be integral to the practice. I have yet to overcome biases, insecurities, and low self-confidence. The challenge is to let all these mental and emotional clutter disrupt my experience of kendo or I can just focus on the simple miraculous fact that I am doing it at all.

My sister is more into the practice than I am. Sometimes her happiness is triggered by the very act of practice. There is a part of me that still refuses to let kendo have that effect on me because I guess I am afraid of failing it and myself. I know my weaknesses, and there are a lot, and I am afraid that they will get the better of me. But all the inspirational pieces I have read tell me to look at my own strengths and to remember the moments when I did something well. Like maybe that one Saturday when I shocked myself and a sensei by getting a point against him when everyone else has had a hard time doing so. Or remember the times when I am praised for a very good execution of a basic kata.

Today is the year-end tournament and sometimes I fantasize about winning a few times through the elimination rounds, enough to be noticed. Sometimes.

Then I get there and all I could pray for is to not make a fool of myself.

dressing up

I've been clearing my closet of things I haven't worn for the past six months and I have also acquired a number of new pretty pieces that are fun to play with. I dress up for the bazaar to inspire and encourage customers to invest in nice clothing and to generally encourage fashion choices that are not always according to what is popular. We have a lot of skirts and dresses and frills to provide a refreshing break from the jeans, shorts, and tops that tend to all look alike. We are also promoting a lot of color and patterns.

The headband I'm wearing above is actually a necklace I got from Rose Citron, an Etsy shop in Singapore. The crocheted ring is a practice piece that I made while tending shop. I went to another bazaar after that day and people approached me to ask about my headband and my ring was also noticed. There is always space and place for unique things, even better if handmade and crafted with individuality in mind.

I have never really been a fashionista nor have I ever been really fashion crazy. This movement to be more visible and expressive about what I wear is more of a response to the popular fashions that have been dictating everyone on what should be worn and how. This is about totally jumping off the train filled with racks and racks of identical clothing in the same shades of colors and often only benefiting the young and skinny. This is about finding what really suits you and what really makes you feel pretty and not what you think will make you look pretty. It took me a very long time to come to this and now I am glad I finally did. I have little that is new in my closet, most are vintage or thrifted or customized.

Our small shop also hopes to make a small difference in encouraging the purchase and use of vintage and thrift clothing to help the environment. There are mountains of beautiful outfits out there waiting to take its turn in the limelight of someone's fairy tale once again. Let us find the treasures that will take us to that ball.

the golden arches have arrived!

This is one of my very few guilty pleasures. It's one of my ultimate comfort food and had been staple in my teen years, as well as overtime treat when I was employed. A new branch is opening right beside my condo building around the last week of December. That means (I hope!) a McCafe in my backyard. And I hear it's going to be one of those 24-hour stores. Yay!

pretty please

I have always had some sort of grudge that shopping online is not a reliable or easy option for someone who lives where I live. Custom taxes will cost double your shopping or things get lost in the post office or post office employees will wrangle a bribe before they release your item. This is especially true if they realize that the items purchased are expensive or valuable.  And this is in addition to the much more expensive shipping costs.

I could also never avail of free shipping promos because my country is never part of that. (iTunes would not even sell songs or TV shows or movies to us.)

Currency conversion also puts me at a disadvantage. A dollar can cost me as much as 50 in my own denomination.

Okay, enough griping. I really started this post to share the bursting in my heart when I saw these pretty, pretty items from Anthropologie. I would have seriously purchased them if not for the above deterrents.

Extra Ingredients Measuring Spoons

Farmer's Egg Crate

Long-term Shakers

Lyna Butter Dish

Painted Amaryllis Measuring Cups

Perennial Mini Colander

Farmer's Market Basket

as the year counts down to an end

I have to keep seeing the good so that all that is good is what will prevail. Never mind the worries that gnaw at untended corners of my mind (and the difficult-to-answer questions that nibble at my heart). The worries will always be there. The questions will always demand more answers. What is important is that I don't let them overtake and overwhelm me.

My very own hands are rediscovering their power in many many ways. My artist's spirit is stirring, shy still from having been pushed away and hidden like a stolen secret. Lately, the chains of definition that have weighed me down for almost two decades are finally crumbling into rust. I will define myself and I will be true.

My needs and wants have narrowed down to pinpoints of purpose, like constellations that map my journeys. Before, I simply wanted the whole sky, all its vastness and all its depth, because I was afraid that I would not be enough or have enough of anything.

My mind is finding new paths of thought. Recognizing solutions where there were none before. Unraveling stories that were previously just blank pages.

As for love, my heart, the tenderness within my warrior stance, the fairy tale that has been beaten and battered and bruised --- this one I have delegated to fairy godmothers and patron saints and angels.

a quick post before i go to bed

I practiced kendo yesterday (I realize it's already Sunday) and after three weeks of not practicing at all I was surprised that I didn't do too bad. I will have another post on my burst of thoughts about my practice but for now I would like to share the events after practice.

We received an unexpected invitation to the opening of Japanese noodle restaurant, Moshi Koshi Noodle Boss, co-owned by friends. Free dinner! Which also turned out to be delicious! I ordered the yakisoba and made short work of it. But what was more enjoyable was the laughter that peppered the conversations around the dinner table.

After dinner we didn't feel like going home yet so we went for coffee at Poco Deli and Peter Paul ordered cake which we shared and we had conversations about Sandman, John Constantine, the differences between men and women, people at kendo, graphic novels, and bits and pieces of random stuff.

As I write this post I am listening to a 70s playlist in my iTunes and I am singing along and tapping my feet and I have this excess of energy that is probably the strong Italian coffee plus the endorphins of a good practice. Will need to get this off my system or else I would not be able to sleep!

I will go and read something calming while tucked in bed to help the sleepy energies in taking over. Good night everyone!

thoughts after the first shop day

Yesterday was the first bazaar day which we held in our parents' garage. I had my own reservations and doubts as to the level of success we could achieve that day but I was pretty sure about what we wanted to accomplish. We wanted to see if we have something to work on in terms of a theme and an idea, and if the customers (the ones we hoped to attract) will pick up on it, and we also wanted to learn how else we can fine-tune everything. While we didn't make much in terms of actual sales, our first day taught us tons of good lessons (as well as confirmed or resolved some thoughts we were not sure about) and we were actually pleased and happy as we closed shop by the end of the day.

Tending shop is hard work - occasional refreshments are needed.

My family has been doing regular garage sales since I left my job more than a year ago to help augment the monthly income. Those garage sales were rough, functional, turn-things-into-cash kind of setups. It attracted its own kind of customers. We knew that the same customers will be the first to take a peek at the bazaar and we still had some items for them but we knew that generally they would most likely be disappointed. But we wanted to evolve beyond just a garage sale. We want a theme. We want creativity. We want to be more than just an occasional seller of cheap used goods. We want to bring life into what used to be a purely functional activity. We want a story. When that story is complete I will write about it in better detail but for now we are basically testing the waters.

Interestingly, even with the bright low prices, the garage sale customers (mostly female) were hesitant to explore. Even more interesting, we had more male customers drawn in compared to previous garage sales.

After the initial volume of garage sale customers (who mostly didn't buy anything and judged the whole bazaar with a few sweeping scans from the gate), everything slowed down to a trickle. However there were two or three customers closer to the type we wanted to attract. One bought lots of dresses without fussing and haggling. The other two browsed all the interesting items and conversed and openly admired the redesigned bags (finally someone noticed!). These two expressed intentions of dropping by again on Sunday.

Then it rained during lunch break just as we were hoping for the employees in the surrounding streets to drop by after their lunch. The rain didn't let up until 2PM. A lot of people passed by but they were huddled inside their umbrellas and walking too fast and not even looking anywhere else but ahead.

We had to move some items  out of the rain which messed up our display arrangements a bit. But people were not really looking so I guess it didn't really matter.

After raining for the whole of the lunch break period, the sun came out. The street was empty and quiet, as empty and quiet as our bazaar, which actually made us want to take a nap and eat merienda.

Rice cakes for merienda. Delicious and filling at only Php5 per piece.

And this is how I passed the time especially since we had a lot of it in our hands. The last time I did crochet was in high school. Was happy to find out it's like riding a bike, you never forget (although I have never actually ridden a bike).

My sister passed the time by sewing pretty things on my plain brown shoes. Customers who dropped in asked about the shoes if they were for sale. Even the males!

We closed shop at 6PM with barely enough to cover the transportation expenses we spent the past couple of weeks just putting the whole thing together.

Normally I would be saddened and discouraged by a day like this. but for some reason I remained optimistic and even excited by all the things that I learned and realized as I observed the customers and the shop dynamics. I scribbled ideas in a notepad, things to consider for the other days of the bazaar (December 4, 16 and 19).

I am also still inspired by the original idea from which this whole bazaar thing sprung from (something I will write about more when it is more a reality than just an idea). As thoughts popped in my head as I made my observations, it also became clearer to me what matters and what is really important. All those years of brand work and strategic sessions and consumer insight projects are probably finally becoming even more real to me. Not only that, I am also discovering interesting new twists and perspective in the usual marketing mix.

Today I am recovering from the exhaustion of the past week and recharging myself for another shop day on Sunday. I am eager to try out a few new things.

One last thing before I sign off on this post: the last couple of weeks of work I did preparing, creating, problem-solving, doing lots of legwork, physical setting up, designing, learning, and everything else has been comparable to a nationwide in-depth consumer research project topped off with a few more layers of midnight work marathons. But I felt infinitely happier and more satisfied at the end of each day, especially as my hands touch each hand-sewn flower or lace trimming, or as I wash my hands gray from sifting through thrift items. My hands, bone-tired and crusty with glue or cramped from so much writing or criss-crossed with thread cuts or mapped with needle punctures. Everything feels real. Yet everything also feels rooted in that realm of soul where I could not enter before. This is no longer just about mental prowess or intelligence or those stuff that fill up an annual evaluation form. This is about heart. This is about spirit. I will be dramatic and say I believe my life's purpose is peeking around the next corner. I hope and pray that I am able to stay on this path even as I have to fulfill financial responsibilities and obligations. Dear Universe, I request for aid and thank you for everything.