the problem with influencers

10:20 PM


I used to follow influencers like a certain Song of fashion, style Toast, or the Italian Barbie salad religiously. They used to show such a great sense of personal style through their interpretation of runway trends with their limited resource – read: before they were paid or lent clothes right off the runway but lived on a normal budget. Aimee Song in particular had such a unique way of mixing feminine looks with a strong masculine touch. I loved getting ideas from her and would often purchase items from attainable sources such as Zara or H&M after she would feature them. Remember when she had an interior design job and blogging was her side-gig?

Now, major influencers like Aimee only don the latest looks on-loan from fashion house. The same goes with Chiara who has become a self-made celebrity. Rumi Neely, the godmother of fashion blogger how started it all, has morphed into a hipbone-jutting slim-spiration model where each Instagram (IG) post is a ridiculous game of how many bones can she expose without being fully naked. Skim through a few of the top fashion IG's and you will see the same it items on every girl: a teddy coat, Balenciaga dad sneakers & sweater, Dior saddlebag, Ganni sweater, Chloe bag, Ancient Greek Sandals, Realisation Par dresses, Zimmermann–and so on.

"These ladies and the spawns that they have created do not present a realistic nor sustainable lifestyle." 

For some readers, these influencers can come to represent success (read: happiness) in the modern age; millions of Instagram followers (popularity) and the illusion of an unlimited income (professional success) to travel and shop. In a world where we are told that if we only work hard enough we can achieve anything, this is problematic. Because we all have bills to pay. If you were to imitate their lifestyle you will fall into crushing debt. A single glance at how often one of these women travel in a month, staying at five-star hotels and dressed in designer duds, can cost upwards of $15,000 with a night at the Ritz in Paris starting at $1,108 and a Chanel dress around $8,150 (pictured). Influencers and fashion bloggers, alike, encourage inconspicuous spending without letting their readers in on the secret; that those outfits were on loan for the day, the hotel was paid for with a sponsorship, that they were gift that bag in return for posting, or they aren't naturally slim because they drink that tea. And that Fyre Festival was actually a bad idea. Let's ask these bloggers the real questions that matter: How do they plan to save for retirement? How will they put their kids through college? Do they plan to influence forever? How will they build their net worth and plan for the long term as they settle down, buy a home and start a family?

The fashion blogosphere, once a source of inspiration based on unique personal style, is now filled with a dull sense of sameness that it has become an extension of the consumerist capitalist machine full of fake followers and bots, artificially boosting follower count. Unfortunately, not everyone has what it takes to become a fashion/travel blogger. But for some reason I see girls on Instagram with full time jobs stepping out in the exact same $$$ outfits as these bloggers. Why waste your hard earn cash to look like someone else? What happened to looking at trends with a critical eye and making them your own, instead of being lemmings to what is popular?

Even the bloggers themselves are getting sick of the facade. Aimee has repeatedly mentioned wanting to talk about things outside of fashion and speaks openly about seeing a therapist on her Youtube channel. Could it be that a life peddling images of sponsored hopes and dreams leads to unhappiness? This is not a critique on Aimee as a person since I do not know her, but a critique on her blogger persona and the messages it sends and its many contradictions. These influencers have curated a very specific image of themselves that they almost cannot get out of. And we all know that no one looks that perfect all the time, yet these people will try their best to present that as exhausting as it can get.

My hope is that in 2019 readers will see past the sparkly brand names and choose to take themselves out of the running to keep up with the bloggers and unsubscribe. My hope is that we yearn for and encourage realistic authenticity that is attainable and sustainable. For our own well being, I hope we stop following fashion bloggers and follow our own dreams. For bloggers to follow who I admire for authenticity, see this post.

xx
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cup of noodles to save your life

10:57 PM


I have a dangerous obsession. I am addicted to cup of noodles. But my blood test came back last week and my cholesterol levels are super healthy. So maybe it's not thaaaaat bad?

I recently ventured far outside of San Francisco into Berkeley to the Tokyo Fish Market, and discovered some interesting varieties of cup of noodles. I picked up a curry one that contained real dehydrated potatoes and a seafood one that had imitation crab and real bits of egg (!). They were ridiculously good. Unfortunately, I ate it all before I remembered to take a picture.

But fret not, fellow unhealthy foodies. You can order your own online at Candysan. This is the most amazing site I have ever discovered. If you like Japanese snacks, well, you're welcome. Available flavors include cheese curry, tom yum, laksa, and Pokemon.

Enjoys!

P.S. There's even unique flavored Cheetos.



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Cured Egg Yolks

7:00 AM


Been cooking up a storm lately this holiday season. One of my closest girlfriends gifted me a jar of picked veggies recently which was extremely thoughtful. Fermented/pickled vegetables are so good for your health and they take some time to tend and make. Gifts of preserves or anything homemade foods are so much better than materialistic finds because they show an investment of time. Food made with love will always be appreciated.

So I learned of this recipe from here and posted about the process on my IG Stories. I grated the dried yolks over oil tossed pasta with shrimp and it was the. best. thing. I. ever. made. Then, like the masochist that I am, I made a batch of a dozen and gifted them in cute little jars to some friends. Add a cute little star tag and they're perfect for any millennial.

A few things to note...

  • Be super careful not to break the yolk when you are separating it from the whites, if it breaks, you can't use it. Save it for an omelette.
  • Try to remove as much of the whites as you can, don't half ass it, you'll thank me later.
  • Use half of your mix to make a nice bed for the yolks, use the other half to cover. The first time I made it, I did not cover my yolks sufficiently and found that they weren't as cured as when I did.


More ideas of what do with your cured egg yolks here.

Happy curing!

xx

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Hauntings

1:18 AM


It was one of my first jobs during college and I knew she attended the same school. One of the few other younger employees on our team, I noticed her immediately. A few months go by and I finally have to courage to initiate a conversation. I wanted to get to know this girl. She was so poised and put together while I couldn't even wake myself up early enough to get a shower in. I approached her cubicle and she was inviting. We talked for about an hour connecting over school, classes and the office life here. The conversation went well and I returned to my work for the day. After that, we never spoke again. She would encounter me in the hallway or in the elevator and advert her eyes. Maybe I my nose is crooked? Maybe she had social issues? Maybe it had nothing to do with me at all.

I left the job a year later and here she is, a permanent memory on my little blog.


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We hadn't spoken for over two years. Time flew by so fast that when he finally texted me, I thought we had spoken just last month. No, trust me, it's been two years, he insisted. I had to stop talking to you because I was mad about what you told me about my relationship at the time. But you were right. He had come back to say this. I remembered at that moment I promised myself to never be a martyr for the truth again. Some people just don't deserve it.


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"I can't be the friend you expect me to be." The end.

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He took my picture. He was very talented and very miserable. After I dropped him off at the airport, I never heard from him again. Perhaps he found his happiness after all. I hope he did because what he did was cowardly and I don't want it to be in vain.

~

I don't know what the purpose of this post is, maybe it's not healthy to dwell on these unanswered moments of the past. Maybe it's cathartic.


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Favorite follows; November edition

7:00 AM


It's Thanksgiving. You're going to have a lot of down time today because there is only so much family one can take (or is that just me?). So I'm here to share some of my favorite content creators at the moment. I particularly love these ladies because they keep it real whether they are unapologetic about how they are still figuring things out or authentic in their content voice. I don't really think of these ladies as bloggers/influencers because their main appeal is not to shill the latest trend, adorn themselves in gifted/loaned designer wares or push unrealistic aspirations of the #jetset life on sponsorship dime. More on this another time. Anyways, take a break from chatting with that uncle you see once a year and chill in the awesomeness of these ladies.

  • Ashley Kane of Brunch on Chestnut. Ashley lives in San Francisco like me so not only is she super relatable, she also has a very strong sense of personal style (downtown classic) but her decorating skills are really on point too. I like that she has suggestions of great closet staples that are devoid of fads. She also posts a lot of great deals and lives life on a normal budget like normal people. 
  • Aja Dang. I like this woman for her authenticity. Aja is honestly trying to get her life together and taking you with her. She shares hurdles of tackling her student loans, her struggles with keeping a budget, and she shares how she edits her photos – facetune and all. She's unabashed, humble and hustling her ass off.
  • Vanessa Grall of Messy Nessy Chic. Francophiles, get your fix here. I discovered her youtube videos a few months ago and have recently discovered her blog. So many great tidbits about Paris that goes beyond the basic topics about Paris. This is for the endlessly curious bookworm in all of us. 
  • Pamela Rf. Some days I don't have to energy to leave the house. This is how I discovered Pamela's workout videos. Her workouts are challenging but their short length (20 mins max) keep me from getting bored. I try to master all her workouts by doing them a few days in a row each week.
  • Jamie Beck of Ann Street Studio. Another expat living in France, but her pictures are dreamy and her daily chronicles serves as the perfect escapism. Follow Jamie as she goes to the farmers market in her small town or learn about the editing process behind how she creates beautiful portraits. Following Jamie has reminded me to pause and appreciate the small moments in my daily life. 

Enjoys.

xx

image via
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Just in time: Workout essentials to buy this week

7:05 PM


Big feasts are coming this week, but if you've been partaking in Friendsgiving you've already been stuffing yourselves silly. The biggest motivator for me to work out is new workout gear. Here are some of my tried and trues that make me feel top notch when working out and a few workout items that I use at home when I can't be bothered to leave the house.
One of my favorite workout brand is from Australia (Aussies have such good taste), PE Nation. They get the color-blocking and design just right in how flattering it is on everyone. I have one set I purchased a year ago and it's still my favorite workout 'fit. 

If you stock up now these items should arrive by next week just in time for that post holiday glutton guilt. What good timing.


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My favorite shops for every day jewelry

12:06 AM


All cool girls pierce their ears, in multiple places, and arm their fingers with precious metals (at least all the cool girls I know). Small piercings and ornamented hands are the perfect low maintenance –hear me out – way to express yourself on a daily basis. One may think that loads of jewelry on our lobes and fingers seems impractical, but if chosen sensibly it can be so unobtrusive that we forget we even have them on.

Key things to note when building your collection of jewelry for everyday life: avoid large ornamental trappings like large stones or designs that protrude too much so they do not get caught on clothes or poke you as you sleep. Stick to solid gold of at least 14 karat to avoid tarnishing or fading when you inevitably have to shower or jump into the ocean. I was told by a piercer that they try to avoid sterling silver when piercing clients due to the fact that it tends to tarnish with prolonged wear or while the skin is healing. So do with that info what you will.

With that said, here are my favorite places to purchase high quality solid gold pieces that don't break the bank.


Pierced image from Body Electric's Instagram which has a host of really cool piercing combinations for inspiration.


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In Search of the Perfect Camel Coat

12:34 AM

If you love being wrapped up in a cozy blanket during colder days, like me, than you know the need for a plush coat in a perfect neutral that conjure up images of warmer moments by the fire yet makes you feel like a chic business woman treading lightly down cobbled streets of Copenhagen, is real. 

I've searched high a low because there is nothing I enjoy doing more in my spare time than to browse online stores. Above are a few of my favorites and one of which I recently purchased (links below). Will report back (on my IG stories) if I will keep or opt for one of the other options above. 

A few things I was looking for in a camel coat: a drop shoulder, but not required - this gave the jacket a relaxed fit, but the color kept it sophisticated, loose fit for layering - this is vital when you want to layer a warm knit underneath, big collars for colder days - rolling up your collars on a coat looks so sleek, and wool - for warm and quality. 

1. Structured wool coat, Mango
2. Collar wool coat, Genuine People
3. Belted wool wrap coat, Genuine People
4. Wool-crepe trench coat, Victoria Beckham
5. Manuela belted camel hair coat, Max Mara

I purchased #3. It arrives in a few days. Will let you know how it turns out via Instagram like I always do.

x
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adulthood and authenticity

1:45 AM


I am struggling in this new world where tact equals mincing words, and politeness means not saying exactly what you mean. Adulthood feels like an endless trek through happy hours on eggshells, where the mimosas are always bottomless, but the slight is always unintentional.

Maybe that's why I have not written in a long time. This blog was my confession booth. Cathartic release had its virtues but when you reach adulthood, it can be taken as whining, being petty or just plain rude.

There is so much pent up that I'm ready to explode. But am I still brave enough to let the words flow? Adulthood has stifled that rebel voice, rounded it out and has taken away it's resonance.

Being an adult means molding yourself into the nicer, kinder, watered-down version of you so that you don't hurt others. Because being an adult means everything is a hidden attack. The last minute invite, the striking personal preferences that contrast with others, the seating arrangements and the wedding gifts – all fucking landmines.

This adult world where people are so polite that they stop being themselves, that they barely scratch the surface of another person's being.

What are we so afraid of? Looking lonely at a party? God forbid we get caught by the punch bowl with no one to talk to.

As I get older, I realize my tolerance for superficial conversations has dwindled down to nonexistence. I simply do not engage and embrace the resulting air of rudeness. To hell with politeness. One can only smile and put on airs for so long. I've lived long enough in this world to understand the consequences of my actions and I'll take responsibility for all of them.

To hell with what they think of you. Repeat this to yourself: I think very little, if at all, of you.

xx
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⚡️marks upon the skin

11:05 PM


A new year calls for a new tattoo, right? That wasn't exactly my logic but after the tremendous year that I had in 2017, I felt it was time to mark the journey onto my skin. So when an artist that I had been following for a while posted that she was doing guesswork in Los Angeles for a weekend, I immediately made an appointment. Hesitation usually breeds regret and I haven't really regretted any decision made on an impulse.


A post shared by tattooist IDA (@tattooist_ida) on


This marks my eighth tattoo. The first one was at sixteen years of age with my mother, who rushed me after I spent an hour looking over every page of tattoo samples on the walls. I never dreamt of getting a tattoo as I'd assumed my parents would be against it so when my mother offered to take me to get one, I was shocked but game for the experience. As it turns out, she had been helping a friend open his business and as a thank you he offered her a free tattoo. She didn't want it, so she passed it on to me. I had no clue what I wanted since I had less than a week's notice. So my decision was ultimately rushed and I picked something totally cliche.

Years later by the beach town of San Juan Del Sur in Nicaragua, I covered up my first tattoo with a watercolor-inspired design that was designed directly on my skin. I had no idea what the end result would look like, but I knew whenever I saw this tattoo I would remember those past few months in that humid country.

They say after you get one tattoo you will always want another. And they are totally right. I love each and every one of them. They've become such a seamless part of my body that I often forget that I even have them. Sometimes when I catch myself, a few times a year, I imagine what it is like for the world to see me: a petite Asian girl with a very strong personality smattered with tattoos here and there. I wouldn't say this makes me unique since tattoos are no longer taboo and have become mainstream, but when I was young it was a novelty. And I felt it in the eyes of those who saw the marks upon me. It was intriguing and a talking point. I no longer think these things are intriguing to any beholder; they no longer serve that purpose of differentiating myself from those around me. The motivation for my tattoos have shifted over the years. They now mark a moment in time, a season of growth, a person or  a story worth remembering.

As the stories accumulate so will these beautiful scars.


image via


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abre los ojos

12:39 AM

Happy 2018. I'm a month late and about a year overdue for a real entry. If anyone is still here, I still think about this blog pretty much every day. Funny how that is. It's on my mind practically all year long. There is a reminder on my phone set for every evening at 8pm to 'draw or write something.' And I let about 365 of those reminders pop up before I finally took its advice. Procrastination is a real thing, guys.

But life taking over is also a real thing, too. So much has happened since the last real entry. 

So recap of 2017, in list format because I procrastinated for so long that it only makes sense to cover such an expansive time in bullet points:
  • Employment. I switched companies and hired a few and fired a few. That was a challenging time emotionally. 
  • I married the lover in a chateau in France. Pictures are on Instagram. If you're curious, however, here's the video. The videographers are so talented and genuine. They recently moved to Los Angeles by way of Italy. I expect them to be in high demand.
  • We bought a house in our favorite city, San Francisco. One of my pet peeves is when people say they live in San Francisco but their mailing address lists a city in the peninsula. Worry not; I ain't one of those people.
  • For the first time in my life, I started working out consistently. And the changes I feel in my mental health and see on my body is astonishing. 
We don't work out in Vietnam. It's just not a thing. My first memory of physical exercise was in second grade, a few years after I had moved to the U.S. On the first day at my new school, the gym teacher made everyone do a pull up. I remember looking at this impossible task and feeling super defeated having never witnessed a human do such a thing. I muttered, "I can't," and the teacher turned red. "We don't say can't in this class!" I felt humiliated as he forced me to try, of course, to no success. My scrawny little arms couldn't lift my body one inch. The rest of my gym memories after that were of torturous one-mile runs where I would come in last, out of breath, with shin splints, and a cramp in my abdominal. I did win a first place Field Day award for a long jump but only because I was the only kid who managed to pull off the correct technique. Why anyone would put themselves through the pain of physical activity for fun was beyond me.

I guess it was pretty traumatic because I avoid physically activity for my entire adult life. As an adult you could say I was a fragile little thing. I was clumsy and could probably be knocked over by a strong gust. I needed help with every heavy thing and moved through the world on my own some times in fear and all of the time feeling very small. 

When I finally started working out it was because of vanity. I wanted to reverse my slowing metabolism. I never cared about being physically strong until my mentality changed and I looked at things that were difficult as challenges, instead. I think that comes with age and maturity. There's a determination in me to prove to myself that I could do anything I set my mind to. So I resolved to get stronger, to learn how to do a real push up and maybe one day a pull up. I enrolled in Basecamp last year and would go 4-6 times a week for about a year. Progress was immediate and while it took a full year, this January I finally managed to do a real pushup–with my elbows close to my body and not pointed out to the sides. It's incredible how easier it is to move through the world when you feel marginally stronger. 

After we bought our house and moved in December, Basecamp got too far to be convenient. The only studios around here are yoga studios. So I enrolled with a bit of hesitation. Yoga is bourgeois. It is expensive, full of vegans (no offense) and overflowing with spiritual bullish*t. All the stereotypical things, I thought them all. But the practice took me by surprise. It challenged my perception of myself and forced me to be super uncomfortable in weird poses that I couldn't get right. It taught me to appreciate the process of learning and to be patient with my body and it grew into these poses. On a superficial level I can see my abs coming into fruition. But mentally, I feel so much better.

When I used to have anxiety attacks I would feel such extreme disassociation that I would think whatever I was witnessing was a dream and that the real me was in a coma, dreaming these things; that my mind was trapped in that dream. Now a part of me wonders if my consciousness was trying to tell me something. I wanted to stay asleep so badly that I gave myself panic attacks. I needed to wake up. 

Some people go on sabbaticals, some people are struck by tragedy and have to reassess everything they once deemed important. For me it was the physical utilization of my body, the moving and cranking of rusty levers. Mobility shook out the dust that had accumulated in those dark corners, long left forgotten. It is now that my eyes are finally opening.


xx

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