They Come in Threes
one. Last weekend, was very unceremoniously turned away by a rude waitress from a faux Japanese restaurant (one of those Korean-Japanese gigs that aren’t half bad but are drowning in tempura batter), who scolded me for not understanding her, when in fact she spoke too quickly and didn’t raise her voice over the din of the restaurant to ask for patrons waiting to be seated at the sushi bar. Dutifully followed her only to realise, damn, we wanted a table, a proper seating table, and she shooed me and my party out of the restaurant to the back of the queue. When demanded why we had to queue again, she pointed to me and said, “SHE didn’t unnerstand me I said SUSHEE BAH!”
Unfortunately one of the friends present is extremely blunt and told her to shove the sushi up where the sun don’t shine.
two. I had two haircuts this week. One to realise that there are a lot of bimbo, unworthy hairdressers in the city who aren’t worth tipping or making incredibly inane small talk with, and who are a disgrace to their trade; the other to find out that I love my boyfriend’s hairstylist. Yes you read it right, he doesn’t go to a barber. I love my new hairdresser. I’ve accompanied Matthew to a few haircuts before and have always admired her spunky style.
three. On Friday I tripped on the stiff pointy toe of my leather shoe and managed to emerge almost unscathed from tumbling down six or seven steps to lie crying on the staircase landing below. Both ankles were effectively sprained, thankfully everywhere else seemed okay. Made it home in shoes mentioned above with a supportive boyfriend who bought me dinner, albeit lamenting along the way that had just spent some money repairing and reinforcing those shoes a week ago.
I wanted to take a photo of my swollen ankles and those murderous shoes but Matthew shoved them in the bin as soon as we got home. I’m still wondering how I fell without hurting my head or back.
Sex and the City: The Movie—Afterthoughts
Okay, I liked it. More than just liked, I loved it. I felt that the plot hit many issues in the modern, empowered woman’s life. It was more than just fashion and labels, but I did think that J.Hud embodies an average twentysomething working woman who aspires to own labels and eventually, some couture or investment pieces. I feel that way sometimes when reading Vogue, I imagine myself spending eight hundred dollars on a skirt, a statement piece perhaps, from one of my favourite labels. I can relate to that completely but I don’t see why it has to be the main theme. (It isn’t, though some will say otherwise.)
The women have come a long way in establishing themselves in their careers and friendships, and this movie wraps up everything they’ve been through together in a neat bow; they have earned the right to brandish their names around like a brand and buy three thousand dollar bags for their personal assistants. On the visceral level, I completely relate.
On the intellectual level I still see it as a marketing and advertising avalanche. I see the film as it is: made by people riding on the success of its popular TV series, half for the money, half for the fun of it, mostly to answer fans’ questions about what happened after the last episode in season six.
Some favourite moments (spoiler alert!). Avert your eyes if you’re reading this from your feed reader:
White Space
Lately I’ve been yearning to write about something new and interesting, have created draft posts trying to detail what it is that could possibly be this exciting, and have come up with none. It’s terribly unusual because I am often motivated by highly stressful situations to come out on top and move on, but it’s been a blank page.
I’m taking less photos, writing and reflecting less. My routine is so predictable that I can tell you what I will be doing next Thursday at four thirty-seven in the afternoon. I work well with predictability and crave it sometimes, but like cooking for yourself, I yearn for that little bit of impulse that makes one alter the recipe with a little extra, maybe some dried ground chilli in guacamole that jolts your senses proper and offers some new perspective.
So perhaps like Anton Ego I need some perspective. I’m learning photography from the ground up again at work and have discovered that there’s a long way to go before I can take myself seriously, before others can do so, too. This entire semester I’ve literally split into two, indulging my interests at academic and professional levels, wondering how to make them all work and feeling displaced at either end. Luckily there’re only three weeks to the semester and the end of academia is in sight. There is something certain about the impending uncertainty, and lots of frantic questions about making it work.
Get the RSS feed