So it’s been incredibly busy over on my end as I’ve been working on a new project – my apologies for the sometimes cryptic little posts (like the one two below), I couldn’t contain my excitement about finally getting my own place ! 

I’ve been blogging for 7? 8? maybe even 9 years now and I’ve never owned my own piece of real estate on the www BUT NOW I DO! I’M THE PROUD NEW HOME OWNER OF MY VERY OWN DOMAIN NAME!

It took quite some time to come up with a name that I really loved, one that would speak to others but still encompass everything it is that I love about this current space. My life – the good parts anyway – are all about cooking and eating and entertaining with friends. It’s about filling the spaces with beautiful experiences – not necessarily expensive or luxurious things – but things with charm, allure, that little bit of je ne sais quoi.

This little brain child was born from marrying my name to the word lavish (verb) which is to “bestow something in generous or extravagant quantities upon.” There was some hesitation initially as the term does have a certain negative connotation to it for being overly indulgent or wasteful… But I like that you can lavish your time and lavish affection upon someone.

It also fits entirely with the theme of hosting, something that I absolutely love to do — there’s a great deal of generosity that goes into opening up your home to others, welcoming them to your table, wining and dining them, and lavishing your attention on them.

But most of all I liked it because it was just that little bit of unnecessary which makes things nice…

You’ll find me over on LAVISHLEY.  

There’s still a couple of bugsies and glitches that I’ll need to iron out — like the comment function only works sometimes, but the LIKE button does awesome things when you click it: (1) spews little red hearts all over and (2) makes me feel good that you’re into what I write :)

This is also a plea for your patience while I work everything out. Do let me know what you think! I’d love to hear your comments, queries and compliments.

Can’t wait to relax, recline and relish……

And maybe work on my new piece of real estate

Sure signs your house party was a success:

1. Alcohol stays abundant way into the wee hours of the next morning.

2. DJs show up unexpected at your door and get spinning on the decks.

3. At 2am everyone’s either dancing, in the pool, or very happily hammered.

No one wants to go home though it’s a weeknight.

To everyone who made it over, thanks for making it a National Night to remember :)

For all the whining that happens year round, let’s just say I’m super glad to be born in sunny old Singapore. Yes, our system isn’t perfect, yes, the majority of our government lives in not-so-little ivory towers (on Bukit Timah), yes, our infrastructure has not kept up with our growth, yes, our press is not free nor unfettered and sometimes one would even say it’s somewhat delusional (seriously, does no one edit her column?), and yes, our social safety net is in an appalling state for a so-called first world country…….

But it’s crime-free, sunny, and a fairly safe place to undertake a lot of things in life – like raising a family or starting a business. There are jobs to be had if you’re fresh out of school, the government gives you money if you make some babies (please watch this HILARIOUS video on DOING your civic duty this National Night), education is virtually free, and they force you to save for when you’ll be a retiree (see this infographic on how to get rich in the long run). And if nothing else, it did give us a day off!

So happy birthday home country!

I hope you all enjoy this absurd photo of me masquerading as our national mascot! This wee spot on the WWW does not get more patriotic than this! BLERGH!

We be poppin’ some bubbly tonight at BJP because my brilliant brother just officially joined the ranks of FLY BOYs everywhere :) WOOT WOOT! Send some champers his way folks! ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

“I can see how old men become curmudgeons. But the other side of this is I can see how old men become wise and blissful: nothing but goodness.”

Nothing but goodness, in everything. It may seem hard to achieve, but if you focus on coming out of every encounter in life a better person, rather than a bitter person, I think it’s fairly manageable. Perhaps I’m just being young, and incredibly naive, but there has to be a reason why the old fogies in the world are strictly divided into two camps: (1) the ones that remind you of good old Saint Nick and Mrs. Claus (all my grandparents fall into this category – and I have 8 of them), and (2) the ones like the Infamous Aunty (vs. ah lian) on the train.

You’re probably wondering what spurred this rather random post. Well, truth be told, it was the startling realization that out in the working world, there are a hell lot of bitter people – and as a consultant, I get to see the insides of a lot of other companies. It is quite stunning really. These people almost always have a profile that you can suss out from about a mile.

Chances are as you go through school you’ll never really come across anyone truly bitter, the concept hasn’t yet occurred to them. Jealousy and envy? Definitely, that exists from the time you’re in kindergarten and someone’s got a nicer backpack than you… But you aren’t bitter about it. You haven’t learnt that yet.

Being bitter requires a kind of stamina, and an elephant memory, to remember and relive every negative encounter in life – every missed opportunity, every time you were let down, every time someone got ahead of you, or things just didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to. It requires holding on – really tight – to these things, and then putting them on repeat. It’s so extremely defeatist – this is all my life is ever going to be, because of X, Y and Z.

It must be painful, like a really absurd form of self-inflicted mental torture. I can’t imagine having to relive my folks’ divorce, or any of my break up(s), or not getting that job that I really, really wanted, or that time I got yelled at when someone else had screwed up… I would be in perpetual pain, a lot of it.

I’ve always viewed my goldfish memory as both a blessing and a curse – it gets me in trouble an awful lot, but it also helps me get over the bad things fairly quickly. And I’ve always proudly paraded my belief that the key to happiness is a bad memory. Well it might be time to change that little line on the top right – what keeps the bitterness at bay, and what makes life increasingly better is learning to let go (I’m still learning how to let live).

That’s not to say I don’t feel the injustice sometimes, or I don’t feel incredibly disappointed when things don’t work out the way I thought they would – but it’s fairly safe to say that normally by the next morning, *poof* it’s gone. The goldfish memory definitely helps with that bit.

And to be better? Being better just involves counting those blessings we talked about the other day. I’m guessing that most of us have at least this much in common: We are young, we are free, there are so many opportunities and our world can still be whatever we want it to be. Oh FROMAGE! So cheesy, but so true! That’s a lot to be grateful for.

Nothing but goodness. Ladies, that’s the real key to being wrinkle-free!

Quote up top taken from Daniel Coffeen’s article.

It seems I have yet to tire of this little installment of instafavourites, so let’s look at this week’s round up of lovelies from around the instaverse that you should follow follow. Trust me, you’ll be doing yourself a favour, and after you’ve followed these folks, feel free to give yourself a pat on the back. 

@camerondecades – If you don’t know the man behind DecadesInc by now, I’m fairly certain you’ve been sleeping like the beauty in Disney’s classic fairy tale. This man brings fashion back to life with the most decadent collection of vintage couture pieces known to mankind. Dressing stars and society favourites around the world, Cameron knows that the only way to be the belle of the ball is to show up in one-of-a-kind pieces worn by the likes of Liz Taylor. (pssst… for the Cindyphiles out there, he’s one of her favourites and an old friend!)

@caimei_k – Fashion & Features writer of Harper’s Bazaar M’sia, This lovely lady lives a rather enviable life with prime seats at Chanel shows in Paris, invites to exclusive press-only events (where she kindly shares the joys of her job with the rest of us plebs), and she gets close ups of Margiela couture. Did I mention we used to go to school together?

@theglamourai – Stylist, blogger and instagram enthusiast, the glamourai counts Jamie Beck of @_frommetoyou as a friend and close collaborator. I loved their joint coverage of the shoot in Morocco, and the fact that they get so much enjoyment out of their day jobs. Click click for your daily dose of bombshell beauty on her insta and through her website.

@blessincasia – blessings are one of the things we could do more to keep a tab on. Counting them is a habit that all of us could cultivate for a better life. I love this lady for her positive spin on just about everything.

@nantaya – I’m not even sure where to begin when it comes to Tui. If there is anyone who lives by the phrase “more is always more”, it would be her. There’s nothing in her life that’s half measure – her glass is always full (preferably of champagne), and she lives life with a certain laissez les bons temps rouler (literally, let the good times roll). I cannot get enough of her sometimes crazy and wildly exciting life, whether she’s in LA working, London chilling or Thailand hanging with the fam, she sure knows how to live it.

Saturday nights & dinner parties done right :)

The fact that I’d rather spend Saturday nights in [someone else's home] is probably a sign of age – but I honestly can’t think of a better way to while away an entire evening than being wined and dined in the comfy confines of a friend’s fabulous place.

I’ve got that song by the Beach Boys playing a loop in my head — wouldn’t it be nice — it really would be to live out on my own and have a place to call my home.

Critical Is Sexy

When I was younger, I rolled with what came my way. I’d drink and hang and eat and consume this and that with all sorts of people, some of whom I loved; some of whom I thought amusing; some of whom I found downright annoying, if not distasteful.

After college, I swore off such things. From then on, I’d lead a highly vetted life. And I’ve been quite successful. I don’t spend time with people I don’t enjoy thoroughly. I don’t go to events that are not absolutely delectable. But, alas, now that I am no longer married, I find myself occasionally dallying with forces and people I’d rather not — that is, if I want to, uh, enjoy female company.

Mind you, I retain my diligence and have a very low tolerance for behavior or events or anything, really, that doesn’t suit me. I can see how old men become curmudgeons. But the other side of this is I can see how old men become wise and blissful: nothing but goodness.

Why settle for less?

Which brings me to my vetting criteria. I like a certain beauty, of course. But I like smart more than beautiful. Which makes no sense as smart isbeautiful. I like funny. Funny is beautiful — and much rarer and hence more beautiful. But, above all, I like critical — not negative; not kvetchy; not whiny: critical.

What is critical? It is a will — a desire — to question everything, to root out one’s own assumptions, to ask if this or that feeling is a feeling worth having, whence it comes, if it should be pursued or not. And I appreciate when this critical eye is aimed at everything — what we call politics, news, films, gender, me, words, life. And even better when its aimed at “us”: what a relationship is and how it can go.

Now, I don’t need or want this to be aggressive. I don’t want someone constantly interrogating me or even interrogating themselves — out loud. And, often, a critique can end with: “Well, I just believe that because I believe it!” Which is a glorious thing. No, what I want is not someone who is afraid to commit to a belief but someone who assumes that critiquing their assumptions is a good thing, a skill worth honing, and is willing to consider the world anew.

Why?

Well, I turn, for a moment, to McLuhan and Foucault. McLuhan argues that we live in what he calls environments — which are very different than what the news and such call the environment. For McLuhan, the environment is the set of invisible assumptions we make, the actions and things and words we use that, in fact, use us: they coerce us, set the limits of what we can say and think and do.

An example he gives is the alphabet, an environment we don’t even know to question. But consider it: each letter is a discrete unit;  to make sense is to move linearly — and to be visually decipherable (as distinct from, say, acoustically). Most people don’t question the alphabet: they’re taught the song at two years old and that’s just how the world goes: A, B, C. But once you do, wowzer, the world brims. Why not acoustic space instead of visual space? Is there a writing that moves in all directions rather than linearly? What was hieroglyphics, anyway?

Foucault writes of discourse. There are words and modes of behavior that are, as Foucault says, “in the true.” Say something outside of this and a) you have to explain yourself ad nauseum, literally; and b) you’re immediately positioned as a pervert, asshole, or lunatic. It’s really a that drives me crazy; b is just part of my life.

It is frustrating and exhausting for me to participate in discussions with quasi-strangers. The discourse that dictates how we talk and what we talk about is so limited and limiting — at best, I find none of it interesting and, at worst, I find it dangerous.  What sorts of things? Well, things like the presidential election; marriage; parenting; movies — pretty much everything.

I just don’t use the same terms so what am I to do?

I can participate on existing terms: “Yeah, Obama let us down but he’s better than the alternative!”  Jesus. I’d rather put a bullet in my head than utter such a thing — not because I have an opinion about Obama but because the very assumptions this utterance enjoys begin from a very different place than I begin.

I can try to change the terms of the discussion: “Well, what do we want from a president? Are these things even possible? What is the role of the government?” But then I’m exhausted and feel like a douchebag — probably because, in that situation, I am one. Such behavior is not socially acceptable.

I’m not saying I know any more than other people. In fact, I know less. I’m just saying that it would be nice if, in general, our collective discourse embraced a certain criticality in which questioning assumptions wasn’t met with so much hostility and, worse, annoyance and befuddlement. Imagine, just for a moment, if you went to a party of strangers and the very way in which people discussed life — love, politics, art — was surprising! And you were invited to have your own strange perspective!

So why do I enjoy — desire — this critical will?

Because it is a will to see the world differently, to shed habit and cliche and engage the world as it emerges, as something to reckon rather than something to be known, mastered, and confirmed.

Because being an individual means being different and being different means seeing the world from your own perspective — and expressing that difference.

Because life is more beautiful and exciting and lively when you don’t know what’s going to happen, when you invite questions not just about the most hallowed truth but about the least likely ones, as well — those truths you didn’t even know were truths you could question.

Oh, to be critical is to be alive, to affirm the flux of life. And what is sexier than that? 

Original article here.
For more of Daniel Coffeen, click here.