“You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame; How could you become new if you haven’t first become ashes?“
This week, the Inbox exploded, emails were lost, French tuition rocks, Kim cooked amazing adobo for everyone, got a liiiitle too high on jasmine, and I finally finally after months spent the past two days painting.
Came up for air after dinner to catch Prometheus with the guys, but these shots should account for my whereabouts after guitar at 9am today. Handpoured beeswax tea lights. Tea lights! Tea lights in egg cartons. Tea lights you can get for $5 at Ikea if you’re into paraffin wax but no, I decide to go and haute them up! Because I am insane. K was right, I am a masochist.
And to think, it wasn’t too long ago, we sat in the back of a cab in Paris and I said, I think I wanna do candles.
Just like how Mmerci Encore started. Standing in the kitchen in my look-up-to-the-heavens, squint-and-say, I think I wanna start a blog about the little things way. In my I think I wanna do French class/I think I wanna take guitar lessons. No. No more. The problem with me is that when I put my mind to something, it happens.
Just like how I told S to slap anything carby out of my hands, someone needs to stop me before I take on an extra hobby and hurt myself. (Side note: grateful for this season, for these opportunities. So blessed and tired, but so very happy to be alive).
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
― Mary Oliver
Artisinal preparations inspired by bathing and bedtime rituals. At-home spa regimens. Voyage scent kits for jet-setters on the go. Male maintenance stuff. Feelgood little luxuries to enjoy every day.
- made-to-measure essential oil scrubs with organic sugar
- 100% pure, therapeutic-grade essential oils to burn and diffuse into your living space
- hydrosols or distilled essence of flowers in a facial mist
- botanical bath concoctions (which are the bomb in a, Wow the Universe is really opening up to me right now kinda way)
- aromatherapeutic parfums
- an assortment of ready-to-wear and bespoke balms made out of the finest organic cocoa butter and oils
- and hand-poured beeswax candles… which we don’t sell, because we’re horribly selfish
Raw ingredients sourced by either ourselves or our friends, from the world over. That’s right. Melbourne roadtrips in the summer, freezing our bits off in -9 degree weather to get to herbalists in gay Paree. Nepali lemongrass (no sherpas were harmed), patchouli from Java. Hand-made, hand-blended, and holistic.
Zero parabens, preservatives, sulphates, PEGs, fillers because we just couldn’t do that to you guys.
OCD about quality, scent, and texture. Yes, we bust our balls but we love what we do. x
By appointment only. E-store on its way because we’ve been busy bottling beauty by-the-batch. Until then, let’s talk. firstname.lastname@example.org
Last night after work, I left the office and bought about $10 worth of salad and art supplies, only to run into some old friends (and oddly enough, catch a glimpse of Nicky Hilton) as they headed to the Tiffany & Co. party.
It was one of those weeks where you don’t get to catch up with as many people as you’d like, but still know what everyone else is up to. First, they’d do one launch, then the Gucci show, followed by a spot of dancing at Pangea.
I walked to the bus stop, totally exhausted and looking about 100, and a little homesick for my old life. Not so much the enforced partying, but the built-in friends that came with it. You didn’t have to make special plans to see them after work or on weekends. You sat across from them and shared almost 360 of your life with them. Now a Sunday night dinner planned days in advance is as spontaneous as it gets. That said, I love my learning journey and wouldn’t be able to pursue other creative loves if I were stuck in the old story so… silver lining.
We said our goodbyes and I went home to read a book Ams brought over. 200 pages demolished in about three hours as I unintentionally sped-read in bed. Doesn’t always happen. Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged as been at the top of my bookheap for two seasons.
I know I’ve been bad with returning personal missed calls and emails. Greg O caught me as I had my morning coffee, we had been playing phone tag for a fortnight.
“Good morning magical princess of the Universe!” he exclaimed. That’s his name for me. (That’s his name for all his magical princesses of the Universe, I suspect.) ”Your balm? Très fabuleux! It’s superb.”
Talk about wake-up call.
Last night, Eddie suggested getting a virtual assistant. I’m assuming by that, it means one who sits in a call centre in Mumbai with a Madonna headpiece, emailing my mum that I love her.
So I’ve got my notepad and a pen, and am just about to start writing the To Do/Teux Deux list for the weekend. Beyond intimidating, it’s just downright scary. Work and love project. Going to squeeze out every bit of the next 48.
GRATEFUL FOR this very delicious homemade foot soak I’ve currently got my feet in now: super indulgent milk, chamomile, rose buds. Yes, blogging with the feet in a giant glass bowl of warm, milky floral water. Looks like watered down Milo but smells and feels hella AMAZING… waking up in bed to a massive thunderstorm on a Saturday morning… free hugs from my favourite Red Velvet cupcake suppliers, my friends/husband-and-wife duo Danish & Alia of Swirls… runny eggs and soldiers, Chinese-style…
To Do list, you shall be conquered.
Also, in LOVE with my new juicer. Am convinced this pineapple/orange/carrot/ginger concoction has more sugar than Coke, but it’s so refreshing.
Ok. *insert Arnold Schwarzenegger accent* Laffing time is oh-vah. Back to work.
My father will tell you this was the catchphrase of my childhood. Just as he thought he finished explaining a subject to me, Why the stingray’s eyes look so strange or Why countries have different currencies, I’d chime in with, “But why?”
He was never annoyed, and if he was exasperated, never showed it.
I guess this many years of asking, “But why” has lead me to places where I can now say within myself, “Why not…?”
Why not leave everything and move away from home to live in the worst places for a low paying gig you love. Why not dream up new ideas and then give them away. Why not encourage others. Why not carry your passport everywhere with you and fly away on a whim.
Don’t take your freedom to ask ‘why’ for granted. Great things happen when people question why things have to be done a certain way.
Image via FFFFound
Several months ago we sat in a cold conference room, looking at projected sales figures, circs, and stats. I’m sure the pep talk encouraging us to be more commercial came from a good place.
Until the veteran presenter dropped this line: “Don’t let yourselves be carried away by beauty and creativity.”