February Acquisitions (or, keeping myself accountable)

first via; second via

To chase away the Winter blues, this month, I bought the following:

• Nars matte color stick in Laos
• A Clarisonic (I'm skeptical, but I was also apparently bored enough to purchase this product)
• Another striped shirt, this time from Madewell (Can I really ever have enough striped things?)
• A Mayle jacket from one of the capsule collections (in used excellent condition)

The bulk of my monthly purchases, however, consisted of baking supplies. Because cakes and tarts seem to be of great interest to me these days, especially this gorgeous cherry number, which screams picnics and all things wonderful and Summer.

 via

And, confession time done.

24 hours in NYC

via 

I've kinda been a ball of stress lately.  A very quick trip to NYC should be compounding the stress, but it will be good to get out of this the city - and I'll get to catch up with one of my oldest friends, Jason, who I haven't seen face-to-face since my move out of Portland.

I'm attending a meeting on human rights defenders.  My packing list is small - Mars boots, tights, a silk dress, my Olympe coat.

I'm hoping to come back to the District less grumpy and more clear-eyed.

Autumn colors and 38 hours in Wisconsin!

We came back from our weekend trip to Wisconsin to visit Ethan's family.  It felt so good to get out of the city, if only for 38 hours!  It was a weekend of several firsts: my first time in Wisconsin, my first view of the mighty Mississippi River, my first time dipping into Minnesota (just across the river from town), my first time seeing an Amish buggy, and my first taste of a pumpkin shake at Michael's Frozen Custard, in Madison.  And one other first: meeting the community with whom Ethan grew up.  His mom - who helped plan so much of our wedding - held a little "meet the bride" dinner, and I was all smiles and red lips.

In any case, it's back to work.  This week, I feel like I'm herding cats - and not in a good way.

Last weekend

Within a matter of days, the temperatures went from humid and high 90s to rainy and low 60s, from summer dresses to autumn layers.  I spent one of my last warm days visiting the District Flea, sitting at Peregrine Espresso, one of my favorite coffee shops in this city, and soaking in the sun.

Fall list, continued.

I'm desperate for a decent pair of flats.  My old flats (i.e., pre-Asia) don't fit as well anymore.  

On my way home the other day, I walked past Madewell and, for once, browsed the store.  I am not quite sold on either of these flats, but they were comfortable enough. 

I did, however, purchase and break in a pair of Rachel Comey Mars boots.  Let's hope they work out.

Taking stock. Fall List, continued.

It's been a very busy week and one in which I've run into folks from my previous life in Cambodia (including this activist monk), which always throws me and then makes me realize that the world is small.  Or, maybe it's just that the people who work in this niche of international law (on, for example, independent accountability mechanisms) is tiny. 

Throughout the week, I found myself sitting across the table and engaging in discussions with people from all over the globe who are shaping the functions and mandates of these international mechanisms.  The discussion today centered on normative gaps in these systems and how to increase accountability and access to remedy for the poorest of the poor.  It was terribly fascinating and a little intimidating.  I sometimes don't know how I've landed here.

Anyway, this week also forced me to acknowledge autumn and to take stock of the holes in my wardrobe.  Starting with outerwear, my go-to jackets are my Mayle Olympe coat (first picture) and Fedosia jacket (second).  I'm looking for another coat, something oversized and comfortable.  

 via

I saw the coat above, and while not an Isabel Marant coat, I wonder if it would do the trick. Straight away, I am skeptical about the quality.  I may have to make my first visit to Zara in years, which should be easy since the nearest Zara is a brisk 15-minute walk for me.  

Other items on my list:

•  A pair of black ankle boots that are comfortable enough for walking around in the District (taking notes from the best black boot review)
• A pair of black trousers (I simply cannot justify purchasing this pair, so I need an alternative)
• A ceramic necklace (wouldn't mind this or this)

Sale alert: Steven Alan, No. 6, Rachel Comey, Mayle, etc

I don't often post sale alerts, but the consignment shop, The Real Real, is having a 50 percent off everything sale until 11:59 PM PDT tonight.  Use code: august50

Packing

via

Ever since I landed Stateside and my luggage was stolen, I've been trying to find some of my old Mayle pieces and other pieces that got away.  In three months, I've done a pretty good job, though I know it will take time to replace my Federicka in the Amalfi print, which I wore all the time in Southeast Asia. I will forever associate that dress with long days at the Phnom Penh markets, small dinner parties at Gayla's house, chatting on a rooftop in Kuala Lumpur's Chinatown, and walking Silom in Bangkok.  Sigh.

One piece I recently found was this green dress.  I've wanted it for years.  I may wear it to my rehearsal dinner this week.

I've finally chosen a dress for the wedding, but I'm tempted to throw on my Mayle Pina instead.  It is a small wedding in the meadows after all.  Wildflower bouquets.  The Rocky Mountains in the background.  Call it my Plan B.

These days, you'll probably see me talking to myself, saying, "This is a small, simple wedding."  Then, I end up fielding questions about last-minute guests, last-minute catering changes, about things to do in Colorado, etc.

One month, stolen luggage, and Mayle pangs.

Hmmm.

So I realize there's been a lot of things that have changed for me since I last lived in the US.  I knew this, but I didn't really know this, not until now as I'm confronted by little culture-shock after little culture-shock, day after day, each leaving me shaking my head or furrowing my brow. 

The last month has not been easy for me.  Work is super interesting, and related to my work in Cambodia, but it's on such a different level that sometimes it feels disconnected.  Like in fancy meetings in ornately decorated government offices, where I landed several times during my first week, in discussions about communities and human rights and where these mega-projects should be going.  Anyway, I don't even want to go there right now.

What I really want to do is vent.  A few days ago, as I was moving my things to my new place, I realized that someone had stolen one of my luggage pieces, left in a storage in the hotel where I was staying.  Fifty pounds of clothing, books, trinkets from last few years. All my favorite vintage dresses, several of the silk and linen dresses I made in Cambodia, many of my Mayle dresses and jackets that I have been collecting throughout the years (but not all of them- thank goodness), letters, souvenirs - all things I valued enough to pack into the suitcase and bring with me, but somehow was able to leave it in a purportedly secure storage room in a hotel?

The realization that someone had stolen my things left me reeling and did nothing but add to the already foreign experience in this cold city.  It pushed me over the edge in some ways, and all I could do was cry out of anger and frustration.  After filing a police report and arguing with the hotel owner, and beating myself up, I now feel this huge loss and this mounting anger.

At the same time, I know these are "just" things.  In the past week, there has been a death in my extended family and Ethan's grammie is having health issues.  These are just clothes, no?!

But not really, which goes back to my first sentence about how things are different for me.  When I last lived in the US, I bought things constantly.   Many things I am glad I invested in, but the vast majority of purchases were done for the sake of buying and consuming.  I do not even think it registered with me at the time.

Upon my return Stateside, I faced boxes and boxes of clothing and shoes.  And frankly, it made me feel disgusting because, in the past 3+ years of my life (very happy, fulfilled years despite difficulties), I did not really miss all those things.  Yes, I missed the feeling of wearing a beautiful dress or a coat every now and then, but I certainly did not miss all the things I accumulated and stored. 

Surprisingly, I was very happy, living with very much less.  As I look back now, I see that Cambodia forced me to go cold turkey on my consumption habits.

I came back to the US aware of my past consumption habits and determined to be more careful because, I realized, I already had a very full wardrobe and didn't really need anything else.

But with this incident... the buying moratorium may be lifted.

Obsession: silk blouses, lots of them.

 via Carnival

Back Stateside, I have two silk blouses, both from previous Mayle seasons, which I had on constant rotation.  I did not dare bring them with me to Cambodia, with all the dust and dirt in the air and shoddy washing machines. (My clothes took a serious beating in that country.)

Before I left Cambodia, I made two button-down blouses in silk crepe de chine- one in a dark evergreen and another in slate grey. 

In Phnom Penh, I usually stop at my favorite one-off silk vendor in Toul Tumpong (amazing prints) and my fabric finds dictate what I make.  This last trip, over the Christmas holiday, I asked my tailor to make a blouse in a dark rust color because I found two meters of this rich fabric.

After, I thought: stop; that's enough!

But since I've spotted this Everlane mustard silk blouse, I'm convinced of the absolute necessity of adding silk mustard to my wardrobe.  I may actually have to buy this one.

The navy one would also be a good staple.

And given that I may likely be dressing up in cooler weather within the next month (maybe, though not decided yet), this may be a timely investment.

Old habits, new habits

 via Saks

Damn. That was an exhausting week.  I haven't done that in a while.  It feels so good when I know I've poured myself into something and there's a little movement.  (I'm talking vaguely about a case.)  But at the same time, I'm often left drained. Wiped out. A big ball of mush.

I'm also not so good with certain cases.  Gender-based persecution. Female genital mutilation. Rape. Forced marriage.  Honor killings.  When I sit in a room across from a young woman with this kind of story, a small part of me comes unhinged. 

I took refuge this week in the small meals and conversations with Ethan, dark chocolate bars, Vietnamese coffee, and my new habit of going to my rooftop gym in the early morning for a quick run on the treadmill.  I've noticed that seeing the Bangkok horizon, early in the morning and under the golden sun, is a good salve for the hub-bub on the ground. 

And one night, I was happily distracted by the Steven Alan sample sale.  I tried to pull the trigger on a few items, but they don't take Cambodian visa.  I took that pause to re-evaluate my need for yet another dress.  Pass.  

This item below, however, may be a good addition.  It looks very much like an ivory silk Mayle blouse I left Stateside.  

via Steven Alan

Of unforgiving heat and uniforms.

I don't remember it being this hot last year.  Phnom Penh is burning up.  Offering a short respite are the afternoon showers that thunder through the city everyday, like clockwork.

With the increased heat comes my increased laziness in dress.  I've been wearing a uniform these days: a breezy dress and the same sandals. The first two dresses were made by my favorite tailor in Phnom Penh, Monika.  One is a shameless adaptation of the Mayle Ilaria dress I brought to Cambodia, this iteration made in a blue eyelet that I found in the local markets while shopping with my friend Rachel. The picture doesn't do the dress any justice - the button details are well executed. 

It's official: I am on a dress-making binge.  I discovered a decent silk vendor at Toul Tumpong Market.  Her stall is filled with so many solid and printed silks that my mind is swimming with dress shapes and colors.  This week, I found the following silk print.  It reminds me of overstock vintage fabric. 

Ermie at Beklina

via Beklina

I am digging Jennifer's new pieces and the ease of the cuts, especially the longer hemline in the back.  While in Cambodia, the momentum to buy, buy, buy slows down considerably.  Or, at least, for me it did.  It's partly because the work keeps me busy, shipping is expensive, dress is casual, and nice clothes take a  real beating here.

While I do not buy as much in Cambodia, I've grown more inclined to buy only what I love - to invest in pieces that may be more expensive, but are more special.  Because, in the end, those are the pieces that I keep for 10 years or so.  Those are the pieces that survive purge after purge.  I kid you not: I still have a favorite pair of MJ flats and a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress that I bought, with my pennies saved, in 2001!  Some of my favorite 3.1 dresses were Philip Lim's first year out of the Development line, years ago.  And, don't get me started with Mayle...

I cannot wait to receive my Ermie spring tee in the Talitha print. Care package, where are you?

markers

This was over two years ago??  Since then, some of my dearest friends in Portland have moved, switched careers from law to medicine, been hitched - and one of these lovely ladies will soon be a mother.  Today- by her doctor's count!  This is another marker of time.

Time is passing quickly.  In some ways, I do not recognize this picture of a pre-Cambodia me devouring clotted cream and lemon curd with utter abandon.  (I paused briefly  to take the picture.)  This picture brings me back to my expectations at the time in my life, what I considered acceptable and unacceptable, where I thought I would settle, etc.  In my two years in Cambodia, I pretty much took all those things and tossed them up in the air.  (I didn't throw them away, but I suspended the need to define everything now, in the most rigid and steadfast terms.)  Life has changed drastically since that day spent in the Portland-suburb tea shop and along with it, I have changed in ways I could not have imagined.  It's a strange sense of freedom and openness that is both wonderful and scary, light and weighty.

I'm aware that my time in Phnom Penh is winding down.  The meetings and receptions in Manila were, in many ways, a culmination of the work I've put into this project/case/research in the past two years.  In Manila, I was also fortunate to meet other lawyers, researchers, and advocates working on similar issues from Kyrgyz Republic to Mongolia to Sri Lanka to the United States to the Netherlands.  We are a small group of people. 

Finally, the meetings drove home the fact that this case - and this work - will go on for years and years to come.  It's important to take breaks.

I am looking forward to my break in Indonesia and India, to a summer of being a plane, ferry, and train passenger to and through countries I have never been.  I'm looking forward to glimpsing the  majestic Himalayas with my own eyes  and breathing in the crisp mountain air.  I am looking forward to sipping a hot cup of Darjeeling tea in  the hillside town of Darjeeling and to rummaging through markets in Indonesia filled with batik textiles.  I am looking forward to walking the cobblestone streets of Ubud.  And even though my heart is heavy with the thought of leaving this work for now (an opportunity to work in Manila has presented itself and I am passing), I am excited about starting our life in Bangkok, Thailand.

Packing for Kep

Yes, it's another holiday in Cambodia.   For the King's birthday, Ethan and I are off to Kep, a coastal town about 3-4 hours from Phnom Penh, for some lazy days and seaside adventures. As much as I love travel, I really hate packing. I hesitate for ages and it's rare that I'm not up late or awake early before a flight, frantically throwing things into my luggage and cursing my procrastination.

I'm trying to remedy that right now. But, as you can see, I'm not quite done. I've limited myself to one striped thing so far - also very uncharacteristic of me.

Tonight, I have a farewell party and a birthday party to attend.  I dislike goodbyes in general, but this one is to a dear friend and colleague, who has helped me keep my sanity at work for the past year.  He leaves for Australia and then NYC!  I'm sad.

Happy weekend, everyone.

The one that got away

Mayle, I can't quit you, as much as I try and even though I live and work in conditions that aren't exactly conducive to delicate frocks.  I'm still looking for the Mayle Elvira, years later.  The last big Mayle find I had was in the week following my decision to leave Portland and pare down for Cambodia.  I was at a consignment shop in NW Portland and there it was, a Frederica in Amalfi hanging behind the desk, not even processed and not quite my size.  I didn't hesitate.  It was one of the few pieces I brought to Phnom Penh,  one that instantly picks me up when I'm feeling and -- and let's be honest here -- looking like crap. These days, those small comforts are invaluable. 

Renne's recent post was a good reminder of mindful consumerism and how and why I choose to spend my money in the way that I do. 

Boeung Keng Kang Market

My Saturday so far: lazing in bed, cheap Japanese eats at Soran with friends, and walking across the street to Boeung Keng Kang local market, where I had a $1 pedicure (red-orange polish, OK rating) and stocked up on cauliflower and other veggies. I am making cauliflower gratin tonight.

27 Hours in Bangkok

Bangkok is a short hour plane ride from Phnom Penh. But Ethan and I did not fly there. Instead, we took an overnight bus from Phnom Penh to Bangkok, which departed on the riverside on Friday evening, at 9:00pm. We arrived in Bangkok the following day, late in the morning, a little bleary-eyed and in desperate need of coffee.

There was no temple hopping this time around, no tourist sights to be seen. Instead, after checking into a guesthouse on Silom Road, we walked, walked past and into food vendors that reminded me how good and ubquituous street food is in Thailand (and how cheap, too!) and around and in shiny light-filled malls, where I perused clothing and makeup offerings among lovely powdered lady-boys. In the afternoon, we let ourselves get lost at Chatuchak Market, the weekend market where you can find nearly everything, and where I picked up a restructured plaid dress. We people-watched and then watched a movie in a proper cinema. We stayed out late into the night, bearing witness to the seedy evening movement.

And we were in awe of sidewalks, freeways, the skytrain, the subway, women wearing makeup and short skirts, of order -- things that, for the most part, if not in whole, are absent from daily life in Cambodia.

Then, we hopped on a plane back to Phnom Penh.

Pretty

via Cup of Jo

Here's a confession on this increasingly hot Wednesday afternoon: I never really feel "pretty" in Cambodia. My neurotic issues with the connotation of that word aside, I admit that the heat, sweat, and other things Cambodia made it such that I once felt I was in perpetual post-gym/workout mode -- not that I've had many post-gym/workout moments, I confess.

It's a struggle.

Admittedly, there was once a part of me that said, "Who cares?! I can eschew any sort of aesthetic ideal indefinitely, for a loftier purpose, for meaning, for this work." That lasted all of 2 months. In truth, I'm just not wired that way -- I need both, I need all. And, more likely, when the entire day seems heavy and dark, and things appear insurmountable, I crave the simplicity and comfort of putting on red lipstick, a pretty silk Mayle dress, and a pair of RC sandals/clogs/heels (actually, no heels because the jagged street + heels would surely bring about my death).

On my last visit to Los Angeles, I packed even more dresses into my suitcase, including a few Mayle numbers, which I now guard closely. I went through my 3.1 Lim acquisitions and imported an old red bag I once found on eBay. I rummaged through my earrings and necklaces. I packed more body butter, more lipstick and lipstains, more lacy underpinnings -- more of the simple pleasures that combat the weariness of life in this country.

I saw this hair "how to do." (Click on the link above for instructions.) I think I'll give it a try.

Out and About (or, Culture shock, phase two.)

My week or so here has blurred. Time does that a lot these days. I took a few shots to document, to remember. Here goes:

Fallen leaves and rain, rain, rain in Los Angeles.

A day with Cherlou. She was right: Bld serves up some of the best breakfast hash and blueberry ricotta pancakes I have had in a while. Is there anything cozier than a delicious hot meal and a hot cup of coffee, shared with a dear friend, on a rainy Los Angeles day?

3rd Street and Magnolia Bakery: Yum. The peanut butter cake was something else.

Le Labo: I have mixed feelings about this place. Perhaps it was too soon and too much "Los Angeles" for me to handle at the time, but the thought of purchasing a bottle of oil "mixed on the spot for me" for $300 (standard size) seemed a bit ridiculous. Still, the Bergamote 22 scent lingers on my mind.