What's in a font

Borrowed from Pinterest

I've thrown myself into personalised correspondence cards in a big way.  Surely, now that I have a new married name, everyone will want to see it at the top of my letters? Or not.

Anyway, I've decided to get them done in Sheung Wan, in a tiny little outpost, where a man sits under a plastic tent with a computer.  He's just down the road from the snake poison shop amongst all the chop stands.

Publishing outpost

But the humbleness of this little stand is a little mis-leading.  Sitting under the plastic cover, my knees squeezed up again his tiny table, I asked him "do you have any samples?".  To which he climbed out from behind the stand and reached over me to a huge tupperware, which contained a full selection of paper (any colour, any thickness, any size) and envelopes. "Pick one!".  

So, paper and envelopes pretty much under control, the only thing I'm in charge of is the font.  Who would have thought that picking a font would be so darn difficult?  I've spent probably 10 hours mulling over Times, Copperplate, Engraved, Bodoni and Arial agonizing over what they say about me.  What does it mean if the G is too big, or round or thick or swirly?  Will it make me look too serious, ditsy, blonde, boring, weird? What if it's too big? Too bright? 

The hidden world of stationery (under plastic)

Anyway, tomorrow I'm going back to my man under the plastic and I'd better have a font picked out, because he's going to press print and then there's going to be no going back.  If you need me, I'll be on Google trying to carve out a personality. 

The art of traveling with a hat

Our wedding was followed almost immediately by another wedding. And this wedding required a hat. Having decided to take on this challenge, I considered buying one (preferably disposable given our enormous apartment) in Hong Kong but couldn't face traveling half way across the globe to Rome and then Athens and then to Paros to Paris to Lyon to Pierrelatte with a flying saucer under my arm (in addition to a wedding dress and everything else one could need-for-ones-own-wedding).

That said, my friend Ms. TT wisely noted that it's perfectly easy to travel with a hat as long as you have a) a hat box and b) a gentleman to carry it. So I then knew that once I got round to getting a hat I would be pretty much sorted as long as I had a hat box. Thanks T.

I decided to wait until we got to Paris to seek out head gear. With our train leaving at 5pm, and all the French time needed for petit dejeuner, dejeuner and chatting (read sucking up) with the concierge, that left us with about an hour to find me something suitable that didn't make me look like a scarecrow. I also knew I would need a hat box, if I were to follow Ms. TT's advice and be able to travel in comfort and style.

Surprisingly, I found a hat pretty easily at what seemed to be the hat shop in Saint-Germain-des-Pres. I say that only because the owner and shop assistant were so incredibly bossy and affirmative in their opinions, that I could only consider them to be world renowned experts.

So once they'd decided on my hat, I then looked the owner in the eye and said, "Now I need a hat box."

She pursed her bright red lips and said, "No. You don't."

I stood a little taller (remembering to keep my shoulders back) and said, "No, really. I need it to travel." I couldn't believe that I needed to explain the basics to these hat masters. Tsk.

She shook her head and looked at me with scrutiny, "You only ave one hat, so you don't need a hat box." she shrugs, "If you ad many hats, then you would need a hat box. You don't. So you can carry it in a bag." She looked down at me again (even though she was half my size) and pursed her lips further, obviously thinking disapprovingly that il est evident que vous n'avez jamais eu de chapeaux de Rolls Royce ou d'amants celebres.

So, there I was, with a hat the size of a brass cymbol stuffed into a paper bag, and my dreams of T gallantly chaperoning me with a hat box squashed forever.

Note that me forgetting it on the train 3 hours later and T having to run after it and then sprint to the next station to pick it up before the SNCF closed forever is clearly a detail which reinforces Ms. TT's advice that you can really only travel with a hat if you have a) a hat box and b) a [fast] gentleman to carry [rescue] it. Ca c'est clair.

And how would you like that tied?

Given Etsy's massive success, clearly we are all heavily into handicrafts and, if we haven't already, are about to convert our second bedrooms into workshops from which to build our hand made empires. Needless to say, my interest in this area has been cool, at best, until last week, when I took myself over to Sham Shui Po.

Sham Shui Po has been recommended to me on numerous occasions as THE place-to-buy-anything-to-tie-pin-and-decorate-with. So, as I needed wedding supplies, off I went. As I sat on the metro as it worked its way into Kowloon I imagined I would find myself in one of those markets where each stall sells exactly the same thing, only at different prices. Wrong. This place is essentially like any neighborhood, you know....roads and shops and things, with not much sign of a market as such. It was of course at this point (the point where I see there's no market) that I realise I don't actually know where I am going. So I just wander around past hundreds of cheapo crapo clothes shops selling things like this...

Never quite seen it put that way...

Tastefully selected and meticulously colour coded

And just as I was about to give up, the shops suddenly changed into bead, button, zip and ribbon shops. Hundreds of them. And each and every one of them completely different from the previous one. So, you would think well-how-many-different-types-of-ribbon-can-there-be well, think that anything you can put on a ribbon wheel, is technically ribbon.

String-like ribbon (accessories above also for sale)

Basking Zips

Boas on wheels

Shiny-tacky-Hello Kitty-Lolita-Printable ribbon

Lace (Take that Villa do Conde)

And then there were flower accessories, buttons, beads in the same sort of quantity and variety as above.

Wouldn't Project Runway be so much more fun....?

Return of the haggler

Being foreign sometimes has its serious disadvantages. The biggest one of them all is being perpetually ripped off. All the time. It becomes exhausting paying NYC prices in HK! The thing is, I imagine some people don't even know they're getting ripped off, while I have the blessing (or curse) of local colleagues who tell me before I embark on any purchase - but mostly after - exactly what the price ceiling is. Invariably, I am charged triple the price ceiling -if I'm lucky - and no amount of coaxing will bring it down.

And yes, I know I've written about this before, when I was looking for that bloody cupboard, but I've somehow managed to steer clear of any major bargaining situations over the past year. Probably because I've been limiting my purchases to Park 'n Shop, clothes shops with printed price tags and Starbucks. But I always knew that I was only one off-piste purchase away from being seriously and unfairly overcharged. (I consider Starbucks to be fair overcharging as they don't discriminate).

Just the other day, I called up the A/C cleaning crew to come and wipe down two average size, common all garden A/C machines. Before calling them, I did my usual survey with the colleagues to see how much it should cost. In Barcelona, if we'd had air conditioners, it would have cost, say, about 30 Euros. My colleagues guessed around 400HKD. Well, I was quoted ..wait for it ...2000HKD! And when I told them I would pay 400, the guy on the phone sheepishly said his boss wouldn't go lower than the original price, and that was final. So there I am, a blonde stuck between a rock and a hard place, and no A/C... so I coughed.

Yesterday I had the exact same problem with ribbon. I went to buy ribbon, as any good self-respecting -soon-to-be-bride does, and was warned in advance by my squad not to pay more than some tiny amount. Of course, I was quoted ten times that price, and even after I plonked the ribbon back in the pile, pretended to walk away and shook my head saying "too expensive! to expensive!", the stall keeper (yes, we're talking about a market stall here) just shrugged and walked off to chat to her buddy at the hanging-knicker stall next door.

Now, as I sit under the one A/C that works - yes the other one never quite got fixed - probably clogged with dollar bills - I'm feeling quite sorry for myself, and thinking some sort of "Local Personal Shopper" agency is just what I need right now. Some sort of ribbon bargaining specialist or something.

Wedding guest outfits in HK

I had to go shopping this weekend for an outfit to wear to T's best friend's wedding. As usual when it comes to Hong Kong, it's almost impossible to know where to start looking to buy anything. Hats? ummm...A pretty dress that's not some randomly selected Stella Mcartney drape or a skin tight Herver Leger bandage in shocking pink? eeerrmm... Shoes that fit..ummm.

Well, Google and my hairdresser (two excellent sources for most things) recommended a few places, which I must say were pleasantly surprising all round.

Hats and elaborate fascinators can be found at Hatwoman. Not cheap (much of my debate was around whether I should get a new dress or buy a hat), but fun to try and maybe worth splashing out on if you feel your entire outfit would be a flop if you weren't wearing a special little something on your beautiful head.

Fascinators for the fabulous

Dresses can be found at Diane Von Furstenburg. Not new news? No. But so obvious you might have missed it.

Spotted this in the DVF shop in Landmark building this weekend on sale and thought it might work rather nicely for a summer wedding

Other dresses can be found at Love It, where Katherine, who runs the show, will specially order outfits to suit whatever you're looking for - and your body type. She puts you on her mailing list and then lets you know what she's found for you before it hits the shop floor. I've yet to see what she gets in, so fingers crossed on this one. But she seemed pretty sensible, as she rightfully disapproved of a saggy number I tried, spotted that I was wearing an ancient bra as my boobs must have been all over the place and then sent me home empty handed saying, "I'll call you when I have what you need." Breath of fresh air.

Shoes. Ahh shoes. The bane of my existence. I got a pair custom made at DYOS (Which stands for Design-Your-Own-Shoes). They take "mass customization" to its best by giving you a number of shoe shapes, sizes, widths, heel heights, leathers (I chose kid..moment of silence), colour etc. Outcome hasn't been delivered yet, as they take 6 weeks to make, so definitely not the place to do any impulse or last minute shopping.

Pick a shoe. Any shoe.

I love dog

People in Hong Kong are obsessed with fluffy dogs. It's really rather odd to see pom poms walking down the street in 30 degree weather, with 90% humidity. I honestly don't know how their owners can keep a straight face.

Today I spotted a few getting poofed up at the pet salon:

Trimming the frizz

Waiting our turn

Just another day in Dogotel (note the trademark) where they love dog

Outerwear

If you walk around the shops in Hong Kong right now, you'll see rack upon rack of heavy knit jerseys, leather leggings and fur lined jackets. Erm, has anyone opened the windows? It's 26 C outside!

Anyway, I've been avoiding shopping like the plague but, with the prospect of a number of dinners and events this week, I couldn't face wearing my French Connection dresses again. I have two French Connection (I refuse to say FCU..) dresses to be precise and to say I wear them every time I go out is hardly an exaggeration. That's not to say I don't have other clothes, but they're a little sad looking and stare out at me from my wardrobe with such a look of despair that I can't bear the thought of donning them.

I do, however, occasionally try and break out from wearing the two aforementioned "favorites". Last week, for example, I almost left the house in something not dissimilar to an aerobics outfit, which I thought was rather "80's artsy chic", but I was stopped by a last minute glimpse of myself in the mirror looking like something out of Flashdance but with the additional flair of a trench coat on top. Clearly this was a cry for help.

So, I was in Singapore this week for work, and I found it to be a little more sensible than Hong Kong, as it isn't flogging the winter theme quite as effusively. That's not to say they don't have "Happy Christmas" written in red (and blue?!) glitter all over the place... anyway, I managed to squeeze in time to check out Topshop (which everybody loves for some bizarre reason - seriously, why would I want to wear a floral jump suit with a large necklace with feathers hanging off it?) and spotted some lovely shoes at an Australian shop called Witchery in the airport.

Here's what I found, bought, and will wear until they fall apart:

Yes, it's Topshop, no I don't generally like them, yes they sometimes have the occasional thing that I can actually see myself wearing

Refreshing discovery. Good quality leather, innocent prices and shoes in all sizes. If you're going through Singapore Airport, and you have big feet, here's your place. They also have clothes, but I thought they were ghastly.

P.S. If anybody is wondering how my fantastic gold Zara shoes are holding up, I wanted to mention that they died yesterday. They will be missed, and a note will be made that Zara shoes should only be worn on occasion and when the weather forecast is fair

Just Green

I'm highly skeptical about the "organic" movement. In New York I simply refused to go to Whole Foods. Ghastly place. Over priced, over marketed, over packaged and over crowded. I must admit though that after watching Food Inc (which I rolled my eyes at throughout) I switched to organic meat. Watch the movie. You'll see why.. But all the other stuff... like organic toilet paper..puullleeeeese.

That said, I got totally suckered into this whole thing yesterday. I've been trying to wean T off Kellogg's Special K as it's just a pile of chemicals, and so I thought maybe I could find him some muesli or something. So I headed down to Just Green. A live-longer-live-local-be-happy sort of shop. And boy did I enjoy it. It was just like being in a cosmetics shop. Hundreds of products that promise you everlasting youth, in scrumptious boxes, without any of them necessarily having to prove that they can deliver.

I passed the fantastically packaged organic tea, drooled over the organic-all-natural stemmed ginger cookies, and inhaled the scent of the fair trade milk chocolate with nutmeg. Note that all these delicacies (and maybe even the entire shop - and most definitely the shop assistant, who looked like she'd been freshly shipped from Hull) had been imported from England. Live local my arse.

This whole thing is really a big fat con to give people with disposable income something to dispose their income on. But I must say, as I sit here munching on T's Red Fruit Crunch Organic muesli (developed by a "pioneering vegetarian"), I'm thinking I could just hop down there later tonight maybe and get some natural-fair-and-delicious tea to sooth me after a long hard day at the office. Something to help me come closer to the natural order of things. Sucker.

Agrarian revolution

What can I say? Some people have children, some people adopt dogs and others..well, get involved with sheep. I'm clearly now in the sheep camp.

I came across the main sheep (the one with the look) at a shop called Homeless on Gough street. Gough steet happens to be my favorite street on earth ever as it's quite beautiful, with small little shops and quiet, tree lined patches to sit in and slurp noodles.

Anyway, there he was, looking at me out of the window. So I went in to rescue him, and his friend. T says his friend looks like something out of a nativity scene, and I kind of see his point. The friend has now been banished to the guest room to graze, while the Look is still standing by the coffee table, looking out and arbitrating all discussions.

I'm obviously going completely mad what with all the personification of wooden animals, but I must admit, I'm growing quite attached.

They're designed by Hanns-Peter Krafft. The world renowned sheep designer.

P.s.

Homeless

Shoes in haystacks

I'm in the Twilight Zone, Dead Man Walking, woman waiting for a job. I feel like a leprechaun, hanging out at the end of the rainbow, waiting for the pot of gold to turn up. I'm pulling petals here.

As T's at work - what with having a real job and all. I've had to lean on my next reliable shoulder; Gossip Girl. I've watched most of season 3 in two days, and I'm finding it all rather addictive. Although when you look at it all at once you realise that everyone is lying to everyone else and apologising for it all the time. Most tiresome. Love the outfits though...and I find myself saying "spotted" a lot in my mind.

Anyway, in between bouts of Gossip Girl, I'm razzling up virtuous hot chocolate (1 tbs unsweetened cocoa, 1 sachet Splenda, 1/2 cup skimmed milk, 1/2 cup boiling water) and trying to give myself facials (not a good idea). I also ran out in the rain this morning to buy shoes, as I don't want to have a Monday morning fashion crisis if Monday turns out to be one of those Mondays where-one-might-have-to-look-presentable.

Small detail on the shoe front. I'm a size 41. Picture the average Chinese woman.. size 41 doesn't exactly leap to mind, does it? So, as of this morning, I'm now qualified in the art of shoe shopping in Hong Kong. Upon entering a shop, I look straight at the lady at the counter and ask what their biggest shoe size is. Before looking at anything. This avoids any chance of disappointment or heartbreak.

This is generally taken as a trick question, but 99.9% of the time, the answer is, "39". Bugger.

Seeing my face fall, this is then followed with pulling hand movements and enthusiast expressions like "but stretch! Stretch!"

Ha! Stretch from a 39 to a 41?! Fat chance that's ever going to happen.

Thank goodness for Zara...

Effortlessly stylish enough?

Spring cleaning

Given this is the hundredth time I move, I've become used to regular spring cleaning sessions. I moved to New York with two suitcases, and when I finally got round to shipping the rest of my things over, I threw most of them out. Because I'm only really attached to a handful of things. And the cracked eye shadow collection is not one of them.

The obvious trick to keeping your life light, is to throw things out, give them away or sell them. I err on the two latter ones. Donating and selling. I donate what people won't buy and sell what they will.

In New York I sold my clothes through Second Time Around, which was downstairs from our house. I spotted it on an old episode of Gossip Girl yesterday (yes, yes I'm about 12 episodes behind) and found myself choaking down a nostalgic tear. Didn't realize how much I missed our little street, sniff.

Anyway, I have found my sell-all place in Hong Kong. Select 18. And it's also downstairs from our house. Down-stairs. Lots of them.

Bum burners

Select 18: Where the wild things are

One of my dresses they generously took off my hands

For those of you who shop, here are some little finds that caught my eye:

Mean sunglass collection

LV anyone?

Now, having sold about 25% of my clothes, I can now finally fill our wardobe. Which, if you remember, I had made to fit our wonky bedroom. And which I'm quite happy with, as it has plenty of hanging space and T's side has lots of shoe shelves. T's alloted space is a little tight, but that's why he's a boy and I'm a girl.

Result: Lightly stocked wardrobe

Yes, that's a bear in the corner.

p.s. The wardrobe was built by Home Style Company, orchestrated by Ric Wadrobe

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