Sunday, September 22, 2013

A Different Aesthetic

There are things that visually, naturally draw me in and I find them mostly in patterns or bright colors, hence this blog's title: Psychedelandia and Other Stories. Embracing color has always been my thing (though it was never induced by drugs, just to be clear). I just think color makes things more interesting and it gives them character.Writing this, I realize that it's really not just color that influences my general taste in things. I like texture and volume. I adore patterns and have a thing for intricate designs. Variety is a word that comes to mind, and if you would ask me to draw a line, I'd probably make swirls and loops between point A and point B. I'm psychoanalyzing myself why I like such chaos, and why I hardly adopted my highschool Alma Mater's mantra, "Simplicity is beauty."

note: stripes, stripes, stripes

Maybe I felt so restricted while attending catholic school. We wore blue and white uniforms and were never even allowed to wear hair accoutrements in colors other than blue, white and black. Our socks had to be folded neatly to our ankles. The hem of our skirts had to be 2 inches below the knee--not shorter nor longer than that or else, we would either get a sewing kit to make it shorter, or they will make us unsew the hem to make it longer. I didn't want to be simple. Simple meant lack of variety and having to follow rules. I grew up thinking that simple equated to boring.


This love for variety translates to my habits of consuming. While I am not exactly a fashionista, I have to admit that I love shopping and adore clothes. At the risk of sounding superficial, I confess that I am one of those girls who has a closet full of clothes but still think that they have nothing to wear. One outfit change to another, I'd look myself in the mirror and feel unsatisfied. "I need a new pair of shoes to go with this", I'd think, or "If only I had this in maroon..." I was never one to get excited over the latest trends or the newest gadget, but I still bought what I fancied--sometimes to a fault because most of them, I don't really need. This year, I resolve develop a capsule wardrobe. Aside from the design of the piece, I would be paying attention to quality, fit and re-wearability. Lately, I've been drawn to classic pieces such as stripes, chambray and neutral colors. Something quite surprising and a bit conflicting with my general take on clothes, but nonetheless practical and suits my taste nowadays. 

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With my apartment about to be turned over by March next year, I've been looking at pegs that lean towards a more minimalist aesthetic. Neutrals, clean lines, and functional pieces are the key words that I would make sure to stick to when I start decorating. I want to surround myself with just the essentials so that I don't have to worry about clutter (a perennial problem with my space at home). 

Perhaps the desire to live simply comes with age and responsibilities. I have bills to pay and I need to stay within budget. There's so many things to do that worrying about the next trend isn't a priority (unless of course, you're working in the fashion industry). Maybe my experiences in traveling helped me to have a more practical approach in consuming, because it's hard to pack light when you want to bring the whole roygbiv gang from your closet to your suitcase. I guess in adulthood, there comes a point wherein you think it's not about quantity anymore. It's not even about the brands, although some brands really live up to their promise of quality. These days, I have made a resolve to consume less but still pay attention to detail. In my cluttered life of being an I.T. consultant, an artist, a musician, a cupcake business owner and a traveler, I am a daughter, a sister, a girlfriend and a friend on top of it all. The choice to live simply doesn't mean my life will be boring. It just means I resolve to find happiness in the simple things. 

Photo credit: Vogue || Remain Simple

Monday, September 09, 2013

Psychedelic Adventures: City of Lights, Paris

Oh the things I had to do to get to Paris.

I missed my train from Brussels, because I didn't have the mind to check the weekend bus schedules in Mechelen. The DeLijn bus stops at IJzerenleen Street every 30 minutes instead of every 15 like it does on weekdays, so I missed it by a couple of minutes. There I was at the bus stop, with a handful of geriatrics and patiently waited.


I was pretty comfortable with hopping on the train from Mechelen to Brussels because of my trip to Antwerp and Rotterdam the week before, but I was going to Brussels Zuid station for the first time and I had no idea how big the place was or how overwhelming it's all going to be when I arrived there. Then there was the mixup between  Bruxelles Midi and Brussels Zuid train stations. The names are different--one for French and one for Dutch, but it is one and the same so I was fumbling back and forth from one station to the next, without my glasses on, confused and squinting at every screen in the Station to check the schedules while contemplating on my next move. My train for Paris leaves at 9:17 from Brussels Zuid, and I arrived at the station by 9:23. Of course, I decided to buy another ticket, a flexible one this time and shrugged off my day's worth of per diem. That's 57 Euros down the drain for a Thalys one way ticket.


This was typical of Paris, I imagined. She was elusive, but I still couldn't resist her allure. Despite the setbacks, I was determined to arrive at Gare du Nord station. It felt like I was being rejected by Paris even before she got to know me. She was channeling her preemptive supalpal moves on me, I thought, but that came to pass later on.