Suburbian Summer.

Summer time means time for deep thoughts.

♥ Inspiration collection agency.
♥ Ruffles & obnoxious headbands.
♥ LalaLiu for reals.
♥ Life for reals.
♥ School & job.
♥ China, Korea, Japan.
♥Un-fail july fourth BBQ.
♥ True Blood & Weeds.

I am the Dreamer.

What happens to your dreams when you realize they're just dreams?

It's Not What You Know, It's Who You Know

Being a non-fashion college student desperate for a fashion internship has made me realize how true it is when people say "It's not what you know, it's who you know."

Success in part is all about connections, Too bad I'm rather lacking in the connections department at the moment. My recent desperation for finding an internship over the summer has showed me that it is a lot harder to get through to the next level without having someone "help" you out. I realize that I am like a majority of people who must struggle hard and find our own way into whatever dream I hope to accomplish. I haven't given up yet, so don't worry. I don't think I can ever give up on my dreams. It's my inherent nature to be a dreamer. After all, it's about the journey we take in accomplishing our goals that's more fruitful than the ending goal itself after all.

So today, actually just 30 minutes ago, I was once again smacked hard in the face with my lack of connections as I eaves-dropped onto a phone interview. It was as if the world, in it's cruel and twisted way, was taunting me. I walked into our floor lounge in hopes of getting a few more minutes of studying done for my final tomorrow. There was a guy from my floor there and when I immediately entered he told me that he had a 20 minute phone interview. It took me a while to register what he just said, my brain cogs aren't working perfectly at the moment, so I was like "okay, that's fine". I wasn't quite sure if he wanted me to leave or was saying that I can stay but he would be talking. I decided to just sit there despite what he said.

His interview began. I decided not to tune out because well a) he was talking sort of loud for me to be able to tune him out b) I like to eavesdrop and c) it was fun to listen in.

I quickly found out what it was for: a summer internship in Shanghai for Louis Vuitton. After I heard him say, "I would really like to have this internship with Louis Vuitton...", I knew it was going to be no studying and all listening. If my inner id took control, I would have grabbed the phone and started interviewing for myself. He started talking about himself and his accomplishments of how he was going to study abroad in Shanghai over the summer and that he's really into understanding international markets. He talked about how he was very active in Model UN, traveling to Paris for conferences and whatnot. He talked about being a part of an Honors society that "you're either in, or you're not". Then he started talking about his past summer internships where he analyzed the precious metals markets and helped clients with their investments.

In my head, I started thinking, "Wow. This guy is going to go far." His intensiveness and all his "stuff" on his resume made me feel inadequate when it came to my own puny resume. It was weird because my first impression of this guy told quite the opposite. It didn't even seem like he was all that interested in fashion so I found it a little weird that he would be given such an opportunity.

Later into the interview I found out that this guy, aside from his impressive experience, is also a wonderful liar. He was asked about his frat and basically highlighted it as a brotherhood of philanthropy. Suuuure..... And then he started talking about the Chinese students on campus as if he knew much about the Chinese people here. I got a little pissed when he said that most of the American born Chinese people here like the pre-med stuff. Hello, I'm Chinese, I'm sitting right here, and I sure as heck am not a pre-med although I do have to say, the sciences are dominated by Asians.

Twenty minutes later and a whole lot of interviewing, this guy got an internship with Louis Vuitton in China. I turned into a green-eyed monster. I really wanted to say congratulations to him and ask him about it because for one I would really, I mean really, like to have such an internship experience.

When he finished another guy came in. The interview guy told the other guy, "Dude, I just got the phone with China and I'm going to be interning at Louis Vuitton." The other guy was like "Cool man" and other guy talk mumbo-jumbo. Interview guy was then all "Yeah...I was sweating balls, I made so much up and the interviewee bought it all." Okay, I thought, there goes my admiration of his experience. Then the other guy was like "How did you get it?" and then interview guy was like, "My mom hooked me up and sent them my resume."

Hm. Hmph. That explains a lot now.

He left and I was left to my printed out notes of macro-economics feeling connection-less and in another word lame.

So will continue my efforts in studying for this final that I am totally unprepared for now because even if I don't have the "It's who you know" at least I will "know" something and ultimately create more connections with myself in the end.

I Blame my Frustration on the Sun.

I was frustrated today. Like seriously frustrated. Like the type of frustrated that made me want to yell "shut up" to every single person I came in contact with. Like the type of frustrated that wanted to stab the next fat squirrel with my pitchfork that got in my way.

Yeah, I was just that frustrated.

I stupidly, took out my frustration on someone.

But the strange thing was, I couldn't exactly pinpoint where all my frustration came from. Actually, I can.

I was frustrated with the fact that I feel so behind. Not only in the sense of school because I am (procrastination is my full time partner in crime), but in general - life. I feel so behind with life because I feel that there are so many experiences that I have been left out of that other people my age have already experienced. Nearing the second decade makes me panic that I should be doing all these "things." There are so many "never"s that I can list, that I panic. I stress. I get frustrated. I think I'm one of those people that just have to do everything, but it's weird because in high school I was never like that. I was the person that did nothing. I guess realizing that it actually counts this time around for your future makes me panic. When I panic, I stress. When I stress, I get frustrated. It's like the transitive property of algebra. Seriously guys, math is like way cool.

I somehow feel the need to do everything and the need to grab as many opportunities that come my way because when I don't, I think I've wasted something; that I'm wasting my life. I have the desire to be more than just existing. I want movement, I want dynamism, I need something that tells me that I am more than just a breathing object taking up space. And when I don't feel this way, I get frustrated.

And this is where my frustration lacks logical reasoning because only I can change the way I think. Only I can make myself believe that I am more than just existing. It's all up to me in the way I think about my life that determines the way I feel about my life. I need to remind myself that it's okay to be behind as much as I want to catch up. I will carve my own path and pace that's right and good for me. I really have nothing so terrible in my life going to allow this frustration to consume my everyday happiness. My frustration is really all my doing isn't it?

But I also blame the sun because as I was walking around school and the sun just kept shining in my eye, I just kept getting angrier and angrier and more agitated and frustrated. I can totally understand why Meursault shot that man on the beach. It's like the sun's fault man.

Then again, feeling frustrated and getting a little too self-involved is a good thing. It makes us and makes me human. And being human is always a plus.


NOTE: This will be the last and only most-emo-ist thing I will right. Frustration is just a phase.

I really should be studying for my midterm tomorrow but somehow writing this all down in here makes me feel better. Self-disclosure. It's a thing I learned in Comm. I seriously need to stop this mix of school with regular talk. Wow. Academics is relevant to life.

All Dressed up with Somewhere to Go

A few weeks ago, while walking to class with a friend and my friend's friend, my friend commented "Dang, you're always so dressed up" and then her friend concurred and told me, "I feel like such a slob in t-shirts and jeans compared to you." As I began to experiment more with fashion, hearing these types of comments were not foreign to me. My mom often wonders why I am so dressed up all the time. For instance, over Thanksgiving break, I wore a combination of my yellow sweater, a black ruffled skirt, and aqua tights for Thankgiving dinner and my mom once again wondered why I was so dressed up. The next day, Black Friday, I repeated many of the same pieces and my mom asked me "Why are you dressed up just to go shopping?". This got me thinking. Am I seriously, really that "dressed up" that it elicits such comments? And what does the definition of being dressed up mean? It's not like I wear heels and fancy dresses on a daily basis, but even when I try to add a little funk in my outfits, I get the comments of "Wow, you're so dressed up!". And finally, in a fit of rage, I ask "Why is it so abnormal to be dressed up?!" Okay, I'm not in a fit of rage. It just sounded nice. I'm positive all the way. Positive power ya hear?

The definition of "dressed up" has a lot to do with where you live. Living in Southern California has it's ups and downs stylewise. People here can wear their cows-jumping-over-the-moon pajama pants with their fugly UGGs and an oversized college sweater without worrying about when the style mob will come out of nowhere and stone them with their high heels until they cry "UNCLE!". We Californians are known for our relaxed style, our laid back way of life, caused by our endless amount of sunshine and happiness. However, when someone decides to go on the opposite spectrum and get a little "dressed up", people look, people stare, quite possibly thinking, "Why the heck are they so dressed up?! It's fricking California for godsake, through on some jeans, flipflops and tees!" And nowadays being in my pro-dresses/anti-pants and my current 1940's glamour obsession has made me paranoid that every person I walk past may be wondering what's the occasion. I wearing my current uniform of a dress with tights and click-clacky shoes (not that fashion forward by any means) renders myself to be labeled as dressed up. Moreover, when I do not throw on a dress but just play around with clothing, people still think I'm dressed up. Does experimenting with fashion equate to being dressed up? But hey, I like it. I like to dress up if that's what you call it.

Some girls cannot leave their house without drowning themselves in foundation and liquid eyeliner. For me, I cannot leave the house without "dressing up". There are a few exceptions such as when I revert back to my nerd mode in light of testing season. There's absolutely nothing wrong with your good ole jeans and t-shirt, but personally, it's just not me anymore. It used to be me when I was a disgusting oil head highschooler. I believe people should be able to wear whatever they want to wear and even if I may not appreciate their styles as much. I'm not a judger, I'm a lover.

As a kid, I wasn't the little girl who loved to play in her mommy's closet and wanted to secretly steal her red lipstick. When I was five, however, I did try to do makeup with markers- a little apple red for the lips and a touch of cerulean blue for my eyelids. It was a disaster. It looked like a slug had tried to do my makeup. So not attractive. I think this childhood memory is one of the reasons that, to this day, I still fear doing my own makeup. It's like water and oil. We just do not mix well. So basically, I never had that "dress up" phase as a kid. Despite my tomboy facade, I deeply yearned for one of those dress up boxes filled with costumes, mommy's castoff dresses and the feather boas. It was all about the feather boas and the boas with the tint of sparkle were the winners. I remember going to my friend's birthday sleepover and upon seeing her dress up box, I wanted to steal it so bad. But clearly that was not what good friends do. "Stealing is a sin" kept replaying in my head as I recalled my teacher's voice back when I attended a Christian school.

Perhaps I am fulfilling my childhood desire to dress up by wearing dresses, tights, and skirts constantly these days. I just find it amusing that what I wear is considered "dressed up" as if I am too formal or look too put together for everyday life. What's so wrong for looking put together? Is it such a crime that I happen to love to wear dresses and tights instead of jeans and tshirts? Sometimes I wish that women still dressed up (or my definition of dressed up) like we did back in those iconic fashion decades of the 20's, 30's, 40's, 50's. But then again, I don't wish for such a thing because the inner feminist inside of me is angrily stabbing my heart right now.

Now if I wanted to "dress up", I would do it in this fashion:

P.S I had a little too much fun with Photoshop.

Me as a flapper in the 1920's

Me wearing a Schiaperelli suit in the 1930's

Me with my friend in the 1940's. Yes I did have friends, even back then.

Me in Dior's New Look during the late 1940's

Me traveling in Rome in the 1950's

I seriously could have spent all night photoshopping my face into all these gorgeous fashion photos from decades past but I need my beauty rest for tomorrow I shall wake up and dress myself up again.

I forgot to mention in previous posts, but I made it as a designer!! HOORAY. I'm super excited, now all I need to do is figure out how I'm actually going to make my designs.

Give me some good ole hair wrappin!

While most other fashion bloggers out there are probably checking out and blogging continuously about the latest S/S 08 collections at New York Fashion Week, today I'm going to talk about something that has been on my mind for a long time. Well, it's not exactly a long time, it's only been a few hours but to some people, like those who are being tortured, a few hours can be a really long time. So I win.

Anyways, this afternoon I was swiggling in the pool. I do realize 'swiggling' isn't a word, but it just fits. So I win, again. I had a hard day at the office: working 24/7 as Lala the Art Geek aint no easy task. I had to figure out shipping mistakes for my website AND play with clay all while watching The Prestige online, so as you can tell I was pooped out. (The Prestige is a GREAT movie by the way!). Onto the story. I do seem to sidetrack a lot whenever I blog.

So I was swimming. And thinking. I was swimming and thinking. What could I possibly be thinking about the whole time swimming? New fashion ideas? New tee ideas? My upcoming thrift-venture? Nahhh. I was thinking hair wraps. I can already imagine your wtf-expressions as we speak. But no, seriously, I want a hair wrap - bad. It's so over. It's so 90's. It's so elementary school-esque. But no. Once Lala has her mind obsessed with something, she has to get it.

I was thinking about hair wraps and how cool they used to be and how the first and only time I did get a hair wrap, it lasted only two days. But boy, were they the best two days of my life. My sister and I had gone to our art teacher's house to get them done. Mine were purple, pink, and white. It had a bead with a pig on it at the bottom. I remember how I had secretly desired for one for a long time just like how I secretly desired nail polish but somehow got the idea into my head that they were "bad" - they were the devils' fashion and certainly going to a Christian school at the time did not help either. I was a messed up kid.

The day I got the hair wrap, I swished my hair around all day, admiring that piece of hair wrapped in string. I could put it up in a pony tail and let it show, and put it down and still let it show. It was bliss. It was love. It was a moment that lasted way to short. I clearly remember the day it happened- the day my hair wrap ceased to be a hair wrap anymore and instead just a lifeless strand of string. I was running around at art camp during our lunch break when suddenly, I felt this tiny pull on my head. Then I looked down. There it was, my happiness, sitting on the grass cold and dead. I had suppressed that memory from my mind for many years until this afternoon.

Look at this kid. Look at that cute smile on her face. I want to be her. I know she's mocking me right now, laughing at my lameness: HarHa! You don't have a hair wrap! You don't have a hair wrap! I do! Not you!

And now, I am determined to get one again no matter how stupid it is or how "unfashionable" or how out of date. It's not just about the hair wrap, my friends. No. It is much more. It is about reclaiming my happiness. It is about finding that joy and spark in life again that my first hair wrap had given me so much of. If I don't get one, I simply don't know how I can go on with life.

Excuse me now, while I go about moping my childhood travesty.

Done moping. Time to check out some of those new collections baby!