How to be chic in NUS - lessons from a siao
As I have noticed, I am not very normal in the head. While people are clad in flipflops which certainly makes more sense in this monsoon season, I am wearing my Repetto flats and jumping into puddles and grass. Ok actually, that's not very chic, it's more of siao.
To be chic is to adopt an entirely new religion. Chicness is like a mantra that you carry with yourself wherever you go; as Buddhists would think am I harming someone with this action, a Chic lady would think to herself "ah, is this Banale or is this Tres Chic".
After having been to France 4 times in my lifetime, I think I have finally mastered the essence of chic-ness- and that is to give absolutely no fucks about convention while holding your head up high.
In the morning, I wake up to my pedo bunny to whom I give a long, lusty embrasse. Ahh, c'est tres chic! Just as the french would give their lovers little pecks on the cheeks, I do that with my furry soft toy.
And what would A day be like without affirming your free will and existence by singing in the hot shower. Again, tres chic. Of course what I look like after the steaming hot shower is well just horrendous.
Typically, the French always wear Black. I have always wondered if it were because they knew that people die eventually and that black can always double as funereal wear or issit because it is just elegant or something. Nonetheless, as a beginner in the Chic religion, it is important to follow your predecessors -even if it means looking like a crow all day. Also, after having gained 7kg over the holidays, Black really hides your tummy.
And soon, I find myself wandering downstairs for a long lepak breakfast. And since I have literally nobody to eat with for breakfast, I enjoy instead streaming Wu Mei Niang and pretending like I have work to do. At least that's infinitely plus chic than eating alone while staring at the other couples all around.
Next thing I know, I'm enjoying a The Au lait (a.k.a. $1.10 Teh-bing from Koufu) and typing this out.
A toute a l'heure.
To be chic is to adopt an entirely new religion. Chicness is like a mantra that you carry with yourself wherever you go; as Buddhists would think am I harming someone with this action, a Chic lady would think to herself "ah, is this Banale or is this Tres Chic".
After having been to France 4 times in my lifetime, I think I have finally mastered the essence of chic-ness- and that is to give absolutely no fucks about convention while holding your head up high.
In the morning, I wake up to my pedo bunny to whom I give a long, lusty embrasse. Ahh, c'est tres chic! Just as the french would give their lovers little pecks on the cheeks, I do that with my furry soft toy.
And what would A day be like without affirming your free will and existence by singing in the hot shower. Again, tres chic. Of course what I look like after the steaming hot shower is well just horrendous.
Typically, the French always wear Black. I have always wondered if it were because they knew that people die eventually and that black can always double as funereal wear or issit because it is just elegant or something. Nonetheless, as a beginner in the Chic religion, it is important to follow your predecessors -even if it means looking like a crow all day. Also, after having gained 7kg over the holidays, Black really hides your tummy.
And soon, I find myself wandering downstairs for a long lepak breakfast. And since I have literally nobody to eat with for breakfast, I enjoy instead streaming Wu Mei Niang and pretending like I have work to do. At least that's infinitely plus chic than eating alone while staring at the other couples all around.
Next thing I know, I'm enjoying a The Au lait (a.k.a. $1.10 Teh-bing from Koufu) and typing this out.
this baguette so chic
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