just quick, generally

It's Paris time for me.

Today, I came to a particular company's stand in search of a particular fabric. I've bought from [let's call it] Company K before, so I know how it works and I was a lot more at ease with myself. I had the sheer luck of being served by Company K's director (again); now he has a bigger stand than the one I visited two years ago.

I'm not surprised he did not recall me at first because: (a) I did not talk much with him two years ago - someone Japanese did the job for me (b) we didn't order a shipping container full of fabric so we were pretty negligible (c) I neither had a spunky hairstyle nor wore an outfit sufficiently memorable enough, and (d) the made-up company/label name back then was probably pretty hard to remember.

Anyway, we talked quite a bit and hit a rapport. I'm alright in dealing with おじさん and older people in general. The label's name, which is real this time around, is more memorable I guess. Then I left, went round other booths etc, went to the station to head back to town and gazed at the train network map....... until I heard someone say, "hey number one!"

Yes, it was Mr Company K president.
(I quite like him, actually. Not in that way, but in a platonic easygoing way.)

Later on (after I've had my fill of map-gazing) I caught up with him and another man he seemed to know on the platform. So to cut the story short, we all chatted, got into the crowded train and traded stories one to another. It turned out to be very fruitful, I got asked to share my views on tricky issues I never thought anyone would ask me on a train (religion/faith), I got to share why I choose to live thrifty (to use up the cash on good things of course), I got to retort an offhand command made in a language I did not master in that very language I did not master ("うそ," "そうでない") (that was gold), I got to meet someone whose body language reminds me of someone I knew (I was quite amused actually), and I had a very nice train journey back to town.

It was a very good day, a productive one, and one I actually like. I'm glad I have the opportunity to create new connections and strengthen existing ones. The experience contrasts with traveling with friends who keep company and take your silly pictures. Sometimes traveling alone is not a bad thing because it makes me reach out to others I wouldn't, had I got people I already know around to chat with.

Also, knowing more foreign languages is good, because being able to work out what other people are talking about is helpful. Especially in my line of work where a simple garment can have its components sourced from four different countries.

Which means, tomorrow is a long day for me because I am running out of business cards and I need to get more printed, pronto.

Big P.S.
Asking for things to be shipped to Indonesia is sometimes a disadvantage as I come across companies who are very wary of sending things to anywhere east of the Bosphorus (or getting less than 300 metres, or actually having dared to approach them.) However, with it comes the fun of explaining 'why' and proving that the inside of my head is genuinely not a bad copy of someone else's.

P.P.S. this post says plenty about the ilks and vagaries of Eurostar travel. I second it.

Kill Kill Die Die*

Yes, the soundtrack of frustration is back.

This season's series will include clandestine sneak-ins, roller-cutter v scissor-wielding mobs, clumsy-generated detours, money-pinching, schedule frustrations, and a lot of stained hands. With better hair.

Expect little sleep.

*the phrase was invented sometime ago out of frustration, and is best pronounced to communicate desperation when one is pressured to breaking point.

gaaaaaaaaaaaah

....... and I went berserk with knitwear-shopping. Again.

It was "oooh look there's free delivery" (for the inner shopping couch potato that I am), "oooh it's on sale", "oooh look I got price-off vouchers" and "oooh I don't have this colour" (my layering-up knitwear pieces are predominantly of the black/grey range and as a colour whore I am keen to change the mix.) By this stage it should be obvious where the money is draning away to. This pre-Christmas's tally count is five. The First-Year replacement remains elusive, though, as I find myself dragging my heels to actually go to a brick-and-mortar store. As a rule of thumb, I don't purchase trousers/pants online due to a plethora of possible fitting issues. Yet I don't like queueing in store.

Also, someone thinks dear WW is my father.
(Hell yeah!! Different surnames there, love.)
I blog quite a bit for some years now, but it doesn't mean everyone in my family is as keen as I am, the way I'm not so keen on playing tennis or practising on the piano. But yeah, like my real father, I like airborne-related sports.......... cue in horses, flying jumps, and speeding bicycles. When I lose my balance, gravity wins. But I'd probably do parkour if I were grittier.

Anyways, time to go now. Bye bye!

not as rare as hen's teeth, but close enough

Well, well. Seems like the iMac gobbled up my text.

Anyway, in the midst of mini-hunger and anticipation of free dinner at workplace, I feel compelled to share a tale of shopping. One that is still yet to complete.

For the past few years, September (the month of college-starts-next-month behaviour) has meant one thing to my wallet: jeans-buying. Because, of course, jeans is a wardrobe staple... and how every brand's doing it so tight thighs look like vacuum-packed chicken... and why that cut you got at the bottom of the pile is so great, if only the colour was right... and how, after defecting to the men's section, I had to admit [temporary] defeat that those cool men's jeans comes in its smallest size which is a full 4 inches larger than my girth. So. There goes the drama of finding one.

On the issue of college-starts-next-month behaviour. I have no college for now, alas, and hopefully not for the long run (not if I have to pay for it anyway.) The jeans-buying was borne out of reasons such as (1) "jeans is so easy to wear for college" and (2) "the weather will get cold", which I can comfortably refute by (1) only if your contemporary definition of 'easy' involves cutting off blood circulation to the feet and (2) it is warmer to wear two layers of skirts and wool tights and boots than one flimsy layer of cotton twill. And, from historical records, I tend to wear dresses and skirts to college anyway.

That aside, I have three pairs of jeans (so biblically I can give two pairs away to a homeless person, except that I need to find one who can get into them.) And these three pairs of jeans, they are very personal to me. There's Pinstitched, a navy/indigo semi bootcut pair that dates back to me and my sister's days of shopping at Review, one that was purchased one size larger because I had to have them peeled off me. There's Final Year, a bog-standard blue indigo boyfriend slim fit Mr 70-cm-waist #2* could fit into, purchased under the pretext "it will be easier to sit and sew wearing this pair". There's First Year, a grey/black slim/straight fit pair that I bought because of the buttons and hemming details, and the one that's giving me headache, because... it's got a worn-out hole at the crotch.

Because of how pants/trousers/bifurcated-leg garments are cut, crutches tend to lay on the off-grain and are reinforced merely by the way the garments are assembled i.e. by the machine stitches alone. Hence the profusion of flat-felled seams. Crutches are a point of stress in bifurcated garments, where legs swing and fabric twists and stretch to accomodate for the movement. The fact that cructhes lay off-grain also makes it impossible to darn or patch. Many moons ago I tried to fix such a problem to a pair belonging to Mag (who split hers whilst she was rollerblading. For the record, I didn't split mine due to some high-impact activity.) It only lasted for three further weeks, at which point we decided that it would be better to save threads and buy a new pair instead.

So, back to jeans-hunting. I'm still looking for a dark grey/black pair, with tapered legs that doesn't cut off blood circulation to my feet, yet one fitted I can tuck into boots. I went back to the store where I got First Year in the hope of scoring a replacement, but to no avail.

So maybe, once I have the heart to dissect it, First Year will be taken apart seam-by-seam to be pattern-traced and remade into a new garment...

*I affectionately/respectfully refer to persons of past relationship as 'Mr', and there had been two such persons with impossibly slim waists. Hence the numbering.

of colours and nuts

Hiya. This is a picture of mine. Now, what do you notice?


Today I intended to rant on about something more intellectually sophisticated. That is, until I went through blog updates and came across this article.

I am personally of the opinion that heuristics, in line with accounting theories, are believed to trigger correlations which may be illogical. But what I believe is more relevant is the amount of experience one has of wearing certain colours. For example, I got some flak for wearing highlighter red/orange tights because they were of a highlighter colour, even though they were proportionally balanced by vast swathes of navy and grey. Most people back home tend to pull that are-they-from-Monaco association flag and completely wrote off entertaining the idea of making it work.

I decided on the outfit pretty much in less than 30 seconds. Open dresser, pull out relevant skirt (because I wanted to wear something I've made myself), pull out jacket in an 'outfit maker' colour, pull out shirts for accent colours. Since I knew I would be drowned in a black robe, red was the better option. And, lucky me, I happened to have a pair of shoes that would set off the black robe. Say yippee to outfit creation.

I didn't think of the flag-colours heuristic when I got dressed, not until we got onto the taxi back home. I hope I've shed some light on how I get my gears together.

Ah, and now I remember what I wanted to say in first place.
Walnuts.

A lovely picture of walnuts in the papers triggered it.
Some years back, I bought a packet of walnuts-in-shell for sentimental and [retrospectively] clearly ludicrous reasons. I don't know why it was walnuts-in-in shell in particular; I can't remember the sentimentality of it at all (not like it would help me get a job, or win £1 million.) But I remembered I had some plans and bought it, and scuppered my own plan by forgetting to take it with me. It'd probably be fun to remember what it was for. In the end, it just shows that no matter how I can hold onto small memories, I am prone to amnesiac outbursts.
Or, as I told Anne, 'Data deleted'.

Now, 'walnuts' is not as intellectually sophisticated as I pined to remember.

Have a good day.

ululu falala

Hiya,
as promised before. The collection.


In the next six months, my homeworks are:
- personal portfolio website
- collection/show
- a particular competition
- setting up production

Busy life, eh? Or maybe not quite... I've been sleeping upwards of 10 hours a day lately. Most of the time, whenever I managed to fall asleep with the lights on, it is much more likely for me to sleep for longer. (Note to self: switch off lights, wake up earlier.)

In the past two weeks, I have been generating samples (colloquially called stuff or c*** depending on whether I liked it or not) slower than I would have liked to achieve, and pretty good (faster?) than what the tutor expects. He's a fresh breath of air, given that I had had the same design tutor for the past year ending March 31. And some contemporaries in college give me the cold shudder whilst others actually get friendlier.

Remember Rob and his educatively entertaining talk a few months back on Mongolian fashion? (Well maybe I haven't mentioned it on this blog, but anyhow.)
Today I got to confront him. That his joke on fashion in Outer Mongolia is becoming true. With this.


And the poor man wailed that nothing is sacred anymore. *pat pat*

On the essay front:
Reflective summary is due in, according to rumours, on 28 May. It has not been confirmed on the online noticeboard, nor have I consulted a member of teaching staff on the matter. Regardless, it's time to start. I'd probably do it by categories, given the fact I'm prone to covering a good few diverse topics in one post. I wonder how nitpicky the marking team will be on bibliography (references to one's diary? doesn't that count as self-promotion or bogus referencing?)

I want to post an intellectual topic on music as well, as a way of philosophical and technical progress from where I was three years ago, but I guess it'll have to wait till the near future.

Take care!

behind the studio

I hope this post covers a bit of what I've been going through this term - work experience at a fashion company.

I opened myself to a slew of areas I could stick my hands and teeth into: research and design, manufacturing, sales/marketing/management and media positions. I believe I was well-equipped to tackle any of the above areas without much problems, and my CV probably has enough backing in its own right. I took two sessions and whittled down my CV from four pages to an unbelievable page count of two! Apparently the placement broker halve every page number figure we came up wth. Or maybe it happened only to me and another girl.

The hunt for internship started in September, and by early November I was frustrated since I clocked only two interviews with paltry reception and became quite desperate to secure one in order to pass this term's learning objective (10-week internship and a 3000-word report on the internship.) Early December came, over half of the class seemed to have secured an internship and I still belonged on the unsecured side of things. Should I take the Melbourne offer and miss a winter? Or should I go back to Indonesia for a decent internship? I was rapping my fingers on the desk and wham - three offers came in hours apart from each other! They were all studio jobs in design and development. I picked one and rejected the other two.
(I realised I've been making choices out of threes, so maybe it's time to learn to be patient and reasonably wait for 'that one offer' to come.)

I've got to admit that I'm quite lucky relative to what my classmates land themselves onto. The hours are 10-6 weekdays, with the unsavoury-yet-almost-ubiquitous weekend extensions a few weeks prior to a catwalk or a trade show. The extensions themselves can run either at quite reasonable hours or simply be nothing more than a desperate attempt to create show pieces (or even core collection for some time-challenged designers), although I doubt people would actually be sane enough to sew and embellish at 2AM - interns may be endearingly kind to do it for your, though. According to the sample machinist at work, this is usually the case for higher-end brands. No thank you, I love to droll along supermarket aisles and have my dinner at home before the short hand points to 9. I'm glad this isn't my lot.

Other than that, I had minor trips to source trimmings - four trips so far out of 33 days.
Two trips to deliver garments.
Four factory visits.
I scourge over their purchase invoices and try to determine where they get their supplies from and who ordered what, and learnt that they tried to push people to purchase in GBP because it's financially more advantageous due to current exchange rates.
I learnt that there are 10,000 different classifications of garments and uniforms currently used for exporting purposes (with different tax implications) and that the company uses about... 50 of them, maybe?
I learnt that grading a dress into one size costs £90.
I learnt that saving fabric is not always the method that saves the most money (depending on how you value your time laying out the pattern pieces), that cabbage is a curse of the outsorcer and a right of the manufacturer.
I learnt that many who work in fashion design are either vegetarians, pescatarians or partial to marinated olives.
I learnt that 'factory' really meant CMT employing less than ten workers, that you'd need to converse in Polish to understand the gossips around the machines, that Angela McRobbie's book frighteningly represents the reality and is a more elaborate explanation of why my mum was opposed to a career path in this industry.

These factors lead me to three conclusions:
- let's look for a paid internship in a related but different area
- maybe I should look for a career in the academic field
- what about post-study work experience?

To be continued - I need to go to work.

(stitch it where it's needed)

Too many students are coming out of fashion design courses in universities and art colleges lacking practical skills.

These past few weeks, whenever I go for interviews and show my portfolio, I would invariably ask for a design position and be offered a pattern-cutting/production one. They both have their own advantages: designing lets one look at how supposedly great designers conduct their trades (if you're lucky enough not to be told to bring the dog for a run); pattern-cutting lets one learn technical know-how that makes garments work.

The reason why I ask for a design position is because I would like to practise more of the design skills I learnt at uni. The reason why I prefer not to do a production position is because it brings back jibes about tukang jahit and horror stories about how internships are little more than a foiled-up sweatshop labour source. When I worked over summer, the moment I sat on a sewing machine and produce a dress mock-up needed for fitting the following afternoon, others in the studio made jokes about how there was "a new sewing technician". I relished in giving them a nice surprise, but their comments allude to how ignorant fashion design students can be when it comes giving [physical] birth to their ideas.

The squabbles between CSM and LCF highlight what seems to be a gap in current fashion design education. LCF students are often accused of lacking artistic integrity, wheres CSM students are jibed for being impractical and not knowing how to make what they design. Now, these accusations are stereotypical and I know quite a few people who prove otherwise, but the point is... there is a gap between what is to be made and how it is to be made.

When it comes to my skills, I'm much more in 'home territory' with pattern-cutting and garment making up. I can draw and develop my drawings using digital manipulation softwares. I do have my 'pet hates' - technical specs, trueing patterns - but I do my best to do them. I take extra classes to improve my garment-making skills, and I will start taking design classes to hone my design development skills.

That's the end of it, for now.
The frequency of post should alarm you that I'm under pressure to produce technical drawings and illustrations pronto, so I'll scoot off...

(H&M and CDG join forces)

So I caught a bit of the bug.

I didn't go to the stores yesterday on the basis that I had interviews to prepare for. As of this morning, a few of the things sold have popped up on eBay (which is a normal response whenever a collaborative capsule collection goes on sale.) So I peeked on them.

Being a fan of shirts, I looked into the white shirts offered on collection. I liked a few of them... until I found out they were made out of polyester. Note to self: H&M and pure cotton shirts don't mix. Note to self #2: buy from RTW CDG if I had wanted a spunky white shirt, not from its capsule collection.

Moving on.
The polka-dot cardigans are what most people dislike, polkadots having been around for some time by now. But, hey, they're made out of wool. And, hey, you can style them with other pre-existing things from your wardrobe. (Who told anyone to wear head-to-toe H&M CDG?) They are my pick for those who might've missed out on the first-day options and frenzy. As for myself, I would give them a hard look, since I'm quite happy rolling around in cashmere.

The trench coat is sold out. It's not hard to see why; it's possibly the most wearable thing out of its posse. Plain navy-ish colour, simple cut and classic detailing translates into a garment Ms Everybody wants her hands on. As supply is limited, availability becomes scarce. They're already selling at £200 apiece on eBay.

As for the 'harder', more conceptual pieces: broken skirt, broken shorts, deep-crotch trousers - these will appeal to CDG fans who find its RTW prices too high. The regular high-street shopper might be compelled to buy, too, either out of curiosity/novelty or from the way it looks on the body.

Reception has ranged from frenzy (NY) to business as usual (Montreal). Which is to be expected, as CDG can be a bit difficult to digest for the average shopper. I still find their deep-crotch trousers hard to deal with, too...

Oh, before I forget - the abbreviation list.
H&M - H&M
CDG - Comme des Garçons
RTW - 'the designer brands' as we know it

If anyone decides to purchase any part of the collection from eBay, please be careful.

Take care ^__^

(Monday's thoughts)

So I asked my lecturer/seminar leader about my essay plan.
It was properly done, but to me it felt as flat as a bottle of Coke left open.
He told me to wait until next lecture's material is properly explained next week.
(Oh, OK... I'll wait.)

This week's cultural studies seminar on the persistence of sweatshops was one I had been waiting for since the term started. It is refreshing and a lot more grown-up to have fellow students sharing their thoughts on the issue with an academic slant and less on the sweatshops-are-evil-let's-eradicate-them bent. Maybe it's because we've been immersed in the subject of fashion for some time we have come to understand that it's not because of fashion itself sweatshops exist even today; it's the desire for obtaining possessions that turn obsolete sooner in the eyes of society that drives the hunt for 'value fashion' and keeps Primark, Topshop, M&S et al in flush business despite general economic setbacks (recession, if you like.) And it's precisely this desire for all things new that makes us less willing to spend more on quality pieces on the basis that we will throw the soon-to-be offending garment away in a year or even a few weeks. Despite this attitude, clothes are still made/produced in a very similar sequence. So eventually the value savings are subsidised out of production costs: fabrics, factory overhead, labour. The icing on the cake rests on the fact that branded goods are produced back-to-back with seemingly commodified mass items, often in the same factory - no need to call names here. Even if brands are caught in the publicity of how dubious their supply chain is, they have the easy option of whitewashing their hands and award their contract onto another subcontractor/manufacturer down the road from the one they left.

I also want to point out that the Fairtrade/organic label refers to how the textiles in a garment was acquired: how it was grown/collected and processed into cloth. What it doesn't refer to is how the said textile is then processed into clothes. So, buying Fairtrade/organic may guarantee the wellbeing of the farmer that grew the cotton for your shirt... but what about those who cut and made it up?
My dislike on the Fairtrade/organic garments movement arises because it is being increasingly used as a branding feature by being represented as 'good', 'clean' and 'politically correct' to the consumer whilst hiding what could be flagrant abuse of workforce. I'm very sceptical on the issue, and therefore do not buy Fairtrade or organic products by rule. (On a tangent, I prefer free-ranging eggs over caged ones, though, because they justify the extra 20p for half-dozen by their better flavour.)

Since this is a blog, and not a medium on which I would write an unannotated academic essay, I shall take a different approach on the issue.

I have bought and worn things from Primark.

Not because I want to say "it costs me so little to look good."
Not because I plan to throw away my clothes after three washes (the general consensus for a £1.50 Primark tank-top is to throw it out since almost nobody in their domestic sensibility owns an £600 coverstitch machine to fix the unravelling seams.)
Not because I like the aesthetic sensibility.
I had to get outfitted for a job pronto, and given the meagre pay, blowing hundreds of pounds on a spiffy black shirt-and-trouser combo isn't on my definition of being reasonable.

Exercising ethical judgements then becomes a luxury statement - you can afford to be ethical with your clothes because you can afford to do so.
What do you think?

Other than that, I talked with said lecturer about doing a dissertation (instead of a collection) for my final year. He was happy with my expression of interest, but I will still need the blessings of my course leader if it was about to happen. Ultimately it boils down to what I want to do after I graduate: research or manufacture?

I don't have the answer for now.

He also said that I'm like this enough to do well on a dissertation (given my background and past track record). Which sounds v. flattering on first instance and grows darker as I looked up its meaning. Theoretical! Hrm. A certain Mr picked me not based on my essay, though, so there must be something else he is seeing. More hhhhrrrm.

Which brings me to the point...
Architects have their practice and write their manifestos into books that end up on academic reading lists of architecture students (seven out of 14 for Kingston Uni.) And who exactly wrote the articles on academic reading lists of fashion students? A considerably smaller posse (around 3 out of 19.) No wonder the general public sees fashion studies as a coffee table-style pursuit of the impulsive.
What is preventing practising fashion designers from publishing 'meatier' books? And what can be done to overcome this?

...with this post, I think I have done justice this blog deserves.
Comment away immediately, readers ^__^

(hey!)

I will be here.
Anyone coming along? :))

胸騒ぎをたのむよ

Today/tomorrow is the beginning of spring for people down under, and autumn for people up here.

I'm quite fixated on the issue of seasonal rotation and yearly sunlight fluctuation. This is partly due to the fact that I was raised on a country that sits squarely on the equator. Where else would you be told that there are a few towns in your country where you can enjoy a shadow-free phenomenon at noon twice a year? ;))

Since my body seems to time itself to sunrises and sunsets (thanks to growing up in Indonesia), I find time management on subtropical and temperate zones become a bit of a handful. If the sun rises at 7:30, how do I plan my activities so that I still get to uni by 9? If the sun sets at 9:30, then at end of term wouldn't sunset spell 'disaster' and 'time out'? What about being unceremoniously woken up at 4:30 by summer solstice?
(I once read that agrarian society in the Middle Ages relied on seasonal cycles to plan their time... then does it mean is my body clock quaint, outdated or what?)

And, by implication, I am perversely interested in getting a 'straight line' than runs north-south on this picture...


...because it would say that yes, the equinox daytime's length is approximately like that of a normal day in Jakarta.

Also, I notice that the speed of sunlight receding after autumn equinox increases. The speed of sunrise gaining pace, too, increases after spring equinox.

I like issues of equinoxes and solstices.

On a side note - I feel underdressed in the outfit below. Meet Mr. Black, my umbrella.


Sweatshirts and jersey outerwear aren't normally part of my ensemble - I'm so used to wearing jackets made out of woven fabric. Wearing a knitwear piece as outerwear, no matter how nicely luxurious it is, makes me feel slouchy and underdressed. Some of my contemporaries say there is nothing wrong with it, but it's just me being... conservative. Or up-tight. Or a stickler to dress codes.

Oh well, anyway... off to cookie-making.

Affair

Seeing this PV reminds me of this series.
It's a style that's been popular for some time now. I don't know for how much longer this kind of white-based aesthetic sense will last, but one thing I know is... I do enjoy it.

And, on a consumptive note, the Motorcycle is dead and this is in.
(I wonder if Alma Leather stocks stingray skins.)
Colour-wise, pastels go with many things and I recently had a medium-term morbid fascination with mouse-grey... which I've been trying to shed off. Not because it's a shade I deem childish or overly corporate, but because there are so many other colours out there, waiting to be picked and used. Never mind the more recent green overkill I'm putting myself through, which I also try to outgrow.

(is it, or is it not?)

Here are a few quotes I trawled through in process of completing my cultural studies essay...

Not only have men been reluctant to wear clothes that exude sexuality but they have also been loathe to indulge in other behaviour associated [emphasis added] with sexual display, including shopping.
--- Jennifer Craik

At least on the surface, consumer culture appeared, and indeed appears, to be beginning to deliver the individuality and difference that it had always promised.
--- Steven Miles

There has been a great diversity of opinion on the subject, but the generally accepted rule is pink for the boy and blue for the girl [emphasis added]. The reason is that pink being a more decided and stronger color is suitable for the boy; while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.
--- The Infant's Department (June 1918)

One thing that fashion is quite categorically not is an expression of individuality.
--- Rosalind Coward

Value systems are inevitably embodied in our dress.
--- Elizabeth Wilson

Is fashion, then, a shallow subject? Think again.
Also, a suggestion on what to do to a wedding gown post-ceremony.
Seize the day :))