From The Likkle Girl's Vintage Emporium

I've forgotten how much shit I've left behind. A collection of fashion highs and lows accumulated over twenty-odd years. I'm a such hoarder and sentimental fool, making brutal culling a hard task. And knowing that fashion works in cycles made it more difficult - there will always be things that I'd want to wear again. When? I don't know. One day.

Opening my floor-to-ceiling built-in and the packing box marked "Floral" was like opening fashion time capsules full of sartorial memories. Goddamn! So many things I want to take with me but I have to brutal because I'm sure there'll be other forgotten goodies in the other seven huge boxes that I've yet to open.

A vintage Laura Ashley dress given to me in the 90s by Mrs H, mother of my best pal Ben. She told me that she bought it to wear to a dance with Mr H when they were still living in England. That must have been in the 70s? It's in pristine condition as that was the only time she wore it - the children came soon after and she hasn't been a size 8 since.

I've never worn it because I don't do black. But looking at its tulle-lined poufiness now, I just might be ready to bend my rule a little just to twirl around in it. Bring back the tea dances!

This skirt by Scandinavian Carli Gry was bought in the 80s at Printemps, a French departmental store here.

The store didn't stay open for very long but I remember having hours of fun shopping there after school. The usual departments didn't exist in there. Everything was grouped according to their colours - so if you walked into, say, the 'tangerine' section, you can find everything from earrings to shoes to dresses in that shade. I've always loved colours so I was in heaven.

Looking forward to wearing this skirt again. Just in time for Spring back in Sydney. Yes, it still fits - it used to sit on my skinny teenage hips but now it can only be fastened around the waist which is how it should be worn, really.

One of many made-in-India cotton pieces from my hippy-drippy-look phase in the early 90s. I love the Eley Kishimoto-esque colours and appliqué details. Good for the glo-bo ("global-bohemian"?) theme that's been recurring pretty often of late.

Off to open more boxes...

Not A Crunchy Young Thing Anymore

It's official.

I'm now what Singaporeans would call an "old vegetable". Elizabeth, my dear beautician of many years whom I visit everytime I'm home for the best facials ever, has suggested I move from the regular range of Dermalogica products to their new AGE smart system. "Prevention is better than cure", she used the old adage. Might have to consider a blog name-change too.

Cheap Melissa's: Back From The Grave

I snuck into Tanglin Mall between a visit to the gynae (annual Pap smears and breasts examinations save lives!) and a facial on Wednesday to see if the rumours are true, that the branch of the elusive shoe shop in the mall are still stocking past-season Melissa's.

The short walk in the rain was worth it! This pair of Indie are the best out of the leftover lot. Never really fancied them but hey, at S$15?! Why not?

Pals

My pal Mommy Noi Noi still remembers what I like. Green. Bags and purses. Preferably framed ones with clasps that make a clip-clopping noise.















This Becksöndergaard eelskin Granny Purse is a belated birthday pressie that she didn't have time to send out to me. Another old pal of mine, Camo Bearbrick , is holding it open to show the polka dot lining. I love my pals.

Thieves' Market

The flea market at the square plot of land at Sungei ("river" in Malay) Road is the oldest in Singapore. Also known as the Thieves' Market because in the early days, it was where petty crimesters meet up to swap their loot and to sell the leftovers, displayed on large pieces of tarpaulin on the street, to the public at low low prices.

I'm surprised and glad that the clean-up-loving government of Singapore hasn't got rid of it. I don't know if the goods for sale these days are of the nicked variety or not but it's good fun walking round not knowing what we'll find and be amused by the randomness of the wares. The winning stall on Monday was one selling Lego bricks of all colours and shapes and pirated porno DVDs.















I came home with these old tape measures to make more of these. Really happy that I found some evasive blue ones.

Girly Lunch On A Wet Wet Day

It’s been pissing down everday since we arrived (maybe we brought the weather with us) so no establishing shot of Mimolette, the cute little place where I met my old pal Mrs Bunny for lunch on Saturday.

The new-ish restaurant is housed in a reburbished old bungalow surrounded by tropical greenery, next to the Saddle Club (you can see the horses out on their daily walks if you go at the right time), only 10 minutes’ drive from the city.

In the evening, according to Mrs Bunny, the bar, done up like an old gentleman’s den, in the adjoining wing of the house is filled with the It-crowd. It’s the same all over the world, isn’t it? People flock to the newest establishment in town, only to leave when the next-big-spot opens. What happened to customer loyalty?

Our table was out on the verandah, overlooking the greenery, and after a glass of bubbly and a taste of new gossip punctuated by the pitter-patter of rain on the awning, we ordered lunch.

Seared tuna salad for Mrs Bunny who’s got the third bun in the oven and shouldn’t be drinking or eating semi-cooked sashimi. But she’s a healthy yummy mummy and I suppose after two beautiful girls (one of which I’ve yet to meet but already godma to), she doesn’t need to be told what she can and can’t do.

Mango and crab salad for me. I was pretty happy to be eating my first meal of raw things since I got here.

A side of frites to share.

And an order of crepes with fresh berries for dessert between the both of us.

The food was simple but good (except for the soggy chips fried in old oil) and I was pleasantly surprised by the service. Two years ago, nearly every every restaurant that I ate at had the most incompetent of wait staff. It was a real shame the level of service didn’t match the quality of the food. Today, the girls at Mimolette were pro-active and polite and I’m a stickler when it comes to knowing what they are selling and they did good. Hope the other places have caught up as well.

The Monkey On My Back

I'm sorted. Thanks to my very tech-savvy and generous pal Yayapapayar who knows what it's like to be addicted to the internet and has kindly loaned me this little gizmo - a USB modem powered by a SIM card like those in mobile phones. Now I have access to the internet wherever there is mobile phone coverage and that is everywhere! Including my bedroom. Technology! Woohoo!

I Want My Internet!

I’m posting, back-dated, from real random places and will be for the whole time that I’m here, I think.

There is no connection at home because the oldies are luddites and I haven’t lived here for ages thus there isn’t really any point in subscribing. I can always not post but damn, the boyfriend might be right when he said that I’m “addicted” to documenting everything.

The Singapore government has been providing free wireless for everyone in public spaces everywhere around the country which I thought was too good to be true until I successfully posted Wednesday’s piece at our neighbourhood mall, deep in suburbia. The connection was a little erratic but hey, it was free and I was happy munching on my cute little Japanese MOS Burger (I have missed them so!) while waiting for things to upload. The only drawback is having to lug Leroy Brown (the laptop) everywhere. I’d rather leave my hands free for carrying my shopping.

My “lipstick” (what I call my thumb drive) loaded with posts written on the word processing programme is much lighter but every home (except mine), office, school, corner shop on this island have been connected for yonks so I suspect internet cafes would have been made redundant.

It sucks that I now have all the time in the world but no easy access to email, my favourite blogs or my own.

A Day In Little India - Shopping

It is precisely that – a very small part of India transplanted in Singapore. The smell of spices whacks you in the face the moment you arrive on Serangoon Road, the main drag. Then the bright hues of the shopkeepers’ wares hit you. You are surrounded by Indians, loads of them, crossing the road in masses like back home, disregarding traffic rules.

We love Little India for the vibe, the food and the kitschy-cool things that we can buy. We were there to meet my best pal Ben for lunch before he leaves on the evening train for Malaysia for the weekend. He has tracked down the new Ananda Bavan – a tiny vegetarian place that we used to frequent but closed and then reopened at a new location while we were away.

The boyfriend and I arrived an hour before the designated meeting time because we wanted to go to Mustafa Centre to buy more tacky old-school watches to add to our collection. It is a huge departmental store owned and run by Indians for years. There, you can get relics from the past to the latest in electronics, all under one roof.

















The watch department is as big as I remembered it to be. Rows upon rows of time pieces displayed in long glass display cabinets but we didn’t score big – only two geek-chic digital Casios. I went around showing the sales assistants the 70s chunky analogue one that I bought there years ago, asking if they still had similar ones but no luck. Maybe others have discovered our little shopping secret and have bought all their old stock out.

A Day In Little India - Eating

The new Ananda Bavan was a disappointment too. They’ve now gone modern and fast food-y. You order at the counter and take your meal to the table.

I want the grotty old shop back! Where you sit in booths and old waiters come to your table first with your plate – a huge piece of banana leaf – then your choice of rice (plain or bryani), thosai, battura, chappati or poori, followed by all the dhal, chutneys and curries that you can eat which they splop on your “plate” with a ladle from large stainless steel containers that they carry around.

We decided find somewhere, which is not difficult because all the tiny side streets are dotted with eating places.
















This is where we finally ate - another old favourite, the friendly Madras New Woodlands.

















Cute little puffy poori’s and chickpea and potato dips for me.

















The works for the boys – battura thali, the mother of my baby poori. It’s like a gigantic tasting plate for one.

















And an endless flow of freshly fried pappadums.

A Day In Little India - Drinking

Ben laughed when we said we wanted to go to The Prince of Wales a few streets down from Madras New Woodlands for afternoon beers. “Can’t get away from them Aussie pubs, can you?” he teased.






















Malcolm who owns the pub/backpackers’ hostel is from Australia. The ground floor of the reburbished old shophouse (equivalent to an Aussie terrace) is the pub, decked out with old Sydney Swans’ paraphernalia and bits and bobs from 50s Australia. On the wall facing the bar is a huge mural of Australiana – a Holden panel van, Dame Edna, a pink and white ice cream van...you get it.

But we like the place not because we miss Sydney already but it’s just a very comfortable place to have a few drinks and chit chat in the beer garden. The boyfriend was also craving for a pint of Gippsland Gold, a beer that he drank shitloads of the last time he was back. An Australian beer that we can’t track down in Sydney!

According to Malcolm, there was only one pub in Sydney that stocked it but it’s now closed. And he didn’t have any because his supply will only be coming in on Saturday. Looks like we’ll be back. We have to! I didn’t get to play with Jess the border collie, mascot of the pub, who was home with Malcolm’s mom who’s visiting.






















I started with a Tiger for old times’ sake and the boys had a new microbrew flavoured with kalamansi lime. We spent hours catching up, watching the world go by and wondering if we should go across the road for a haircut at Super Star Hair Dressing.

A Day In Little India - Eating Again

I’m seldom stomach-growling hungry in Sydney. On days when I’m busy at work, I skip lunch (never had breakfast ever – not healthy, I know) and my tummy never made a sound. But the last few days, it’s been throwing tantrums very soon after a meal, demanding the next. Had to make the boys leave the pub to go for dinner when the rain ceased.

Ben suggested we go to a place down the road where they have a tiny tandoor oven. Mmmm...fresh naans! Yay! South Indian vegetarian for lunch and North Indian-ish food for dinner. Yes!

The boys’ naans in the oven

The accompaniments – clockwise from top left: chicken korma, hard boiled eggs in curry, chicken 65 (like tandoori chicken) and spiced cabbage.

Food is usually not well-presented at these cheap corner coffeeshop-type establishments - they just slap them onto serving plates, not bothering with wiping down splats and spillage around the rims – but they are tasty in a home-cooked way. I finished my huge plate of rice and both the boys were surprised because I never do that.

The Hello Kitty Of The Fast Food World

MOS Burger has to be my favourite fast food chain in the whole wide world. I’ve had lunch there two days in a row now.

How can I resist cute little Japanese things (they are very much smaller than the burgers you get in the giant chains) in equally cute packaging? Plus they are super tasty as well. And so much healthier (I think) compared to Macky Dees and Murder Kings.






















My favourite is the Fish Burger – the flakiest square of crumbed fish with a generous dollop of Japanese mayo and diced onion in the softest of buns – followed by the Teriyaki Chicken one.

For those who can't tolerate gluten, there are the Rice Burgers – traditional Japanese dishes like grilled eel and thin yakiniku beef slices sandwiched between two lightly-grilled sushi rice cakes. Like a don you can eat without cutlery.

Calorie-counting people can have the bun-less burgers – your favourite fillings served between cups of crispy cos lettuce similar to sang choi baos.

Then there are the sides. I love the Panko-crumbed Butterfly Prawns and the Garlic and Lemon Mussels.

And to wash everything down, their very refreshing Peach Ice Tea. Or a tiny bottle of the creamiest Meiji milk. Meow.

The Death Of Cheap Melissa's! And Where The Fuck Is Topshop?!

I discovered cheap Melissa’s here two years ago so them rubber shoes are #1 on my shopping list, especially the Vivienne Westwood ones. Naturally, my first stop was one of the two shoe shops that stock them when we hit the shopping strip of Orchard Road today.

To my horror, it’s now a lingerie shop. So across the road we went in search of the other branch and it’s gone too! So this Isabela Capeto + Melissa collaboration pair is most probably the last of my dirt cheap ones. And I didn’t buy them here - they were bought at a sale in Sydney.

#2 on my list is a visit (at least) to good old Topshop at Wisma Atria, another mall further down the strip. They have loads of branches all over the island but I like this one because it’s huge and there’s a Topman for the boyfriend on the lower level. But they are no longer there!

We asked the sales assistants in the shop next door where Topshop has moved to and they said, “Isetan Scotts.” So we crossed the road again to get to the Japanese departmental store and either we were blind or the shop assistants didn’t know shit, we couldn’t find the British chain store after walking rounds.

I guess I spoke too soon when I said that nothing has changed. And it sure feels stupid being almost like a lost tourist on your own home tuft.

Next stop and kind of next-best-thing-after-Topshop was Zara across the road (again!). I felt better after scoring two dresses and a pair of shoes, all with massive discounts because the Autumn/Winter collections are in and my purchases were from the Summer range.

I've forgotten that shops here stock warm clothes, as in jackets, heavy knits, trenchcoats...it’s mad! And the local glossies are featuring Fall fashion like we are situated in the Northern Hemisphere. I don’t get it. We are near the Equator, with just one season throughout the year and it’s been so hot and muggy the last few days that I’ve been wearing as little as I can get away with.

Looking at all the thick clothes made us feel hotter than we already were so we headed to the nearest watering hole for a much-needed beer. We had time to kill before dinner with the boyfriend’s folks so we called a friend to say that we are back and he decided to leave work early to join us for a frosty one.

While grilling Mr 42 about his new girlfriend, I found out that she works for the company that imports Melissa. What a coincidence! However, really bad news followed. Melissa’s were so cheap in Singapore because they were sold at prices way below the recommended ones. Why, he doesn’t know. The parent company in Brazil found out a while ago and has since severed the business relationship.

It’s not been a good Shopping Day #1.

Doing The Anthony Bourdain

Favourite national past-times of Singaporeans are shopping and eating. We stuff ourselves and hopefully try to burn it all off by walking from mall to mall.

If we follow that line of “logic”, I’m glad that we zig-zagged our way so many times across Orchard Road today because it meant that we could eat loads at dinner tonight.

And eat we did at Sin Huat Eating House where Anthony Bourdin dined and raved about on his eat-his-way-around-the-world tour.

Located in the seedy red-light district of Geylang, Sin Huat was already very popular with the locals for their Crab and Rice Vermicelli way before the celebrity chef visited but I’ve never been.

What we ate:-

Scallops with the tastiest black bean-based sauce

“Gong Gong” with a super spicy chilli and garlic dipping sauce (I don’t know why they are called that but it means “stupid stupid”)

Garlic prawns with loads of the most flavoursome minced raw garlic ever - my breath reeked for hours after

Frogs’ legs in an Essence Of Chicken which I couldn't bring myself to eat (Essence of Chicken is bottled health tonic – good for the body but disgusting on the tastebuds)

The bright green frogs – before their final swim in the wok

Steamed garoupa in a light soy sauce – the best way to cook that fish

Sin Huat’s signature dish – Crab and Rice Vermicelli. It was good. So good that I can drink every last bit of the gravy.

Oh, it wasn't altogether an unhealthy meal because we had a huge plate of stir-fried kailian (an Asian green) too.

Then the bill came. The Chinese believe that an auspicious business name will bring good luck and healthy profits and “Sin Huat” means “new prosperity/wealth” – they certainly picked the right one. It was the most expensive non-fine dining experience that I’ve ever had – no white starched linen, we sat on cheap red plastic stools next to the road, ate out of mismatched melamine plates and bowls, had to put up with grumpy old waitresses in gumboots and dodgy characters walking by, on their way to a quickie – but the food was worth every cent (it’s a cheeky thing to say when it was the boyfriend’s dad who paid but I would say the same too if it were our cents).

The Likkle Girl vs Imelda

Dear Mrs M,

Remember when you wrote about the very schpecial orange blasts-from-your-clubbing-past?

Well, these are mine, unearthed from one of the many packing boxes of stuff that I've accumulated at my folks.

Looking like a scruffy but regular pair of shoes...

...fade to black...

...and reveal all! Of their platform-y glory.

You kept yours for years and trucked them all the way from Melbourne to Sydney. These tall ugly-beauties were bought (with very specific instructions and magazine tear-outs for reference) and carried back to Singapore from London by a friend. In the wrong size. I had to call the Swear store to ask if they would swap and being the nice people that they were, they did, with free shipping and all. And I wore them, like, only twice?

I’m not going to ship them back to Sydney but should they go back into their box or into the bin?

Or is there someone out there who might want a pair of 4-inch platforms in size 38 with leather uppers and rubber soles from the mid-90s?

xx the likkle girl

How This Blog Got Its Name

The boyfriend wrote and made me this likkle storybook when we first started dating in Singapore (he most probably was too polite then to title it Gweedy Likkle Girl).

I was promised a whole series of her/my adventures and got the second one Bored Likkle Girl in the mail when I first moved to Sydney, without him. He joined me shortly after but no likkle books followed. Hrrrmphhh!

The Likkle Girl Who Wurves Pwetty Things is a reaction to his slackness - I can write my own tales.

Meet The Original Likkle Girl

Greetings from Singapore! I'm home on the sunny isle for an under-the-radar visit. Yes, "visit" because I wouldn't call it a "holiday" when family is involved. It's "stealth-y" because I have too many pals here - the three that I've told so far have been sworn to secrecy. I would love to catch up with everyone but I'll only call the rest (and watch my diary fill up with appointments like I'm the hottest new model in town) when I feel like I've spent enough time with my dad and mom. I've learnt from my last trip...my folks didn't see very much of me and I was pretty sure my dad was on the verge of bringing back the good old curfew.

It feels like nothing has changed but it's only my first day back and all that I've seen so far are the familiar sights along the expressway home from the airport last night. (Oh, we flew on Singapore Airlines' new A380 and it was what they said it would be - so much more room, even in the cattle class. And there isn't a marked difference in fare. It is indeed "a great way to fly", to borrow from their old advertising jingle.)

My taste in fashion-y things hasn't changed very much either, looking at the stack of old photos that my mom has pulled out from the "archives". The red clogs! The haircut is similar to the current one and I'd love a grown-up version of that smocked printed dress.

I suspect there will be more reminiscing-type posts to follow as I open up packed-away boxes and rediscover things that I've forgotten. Can't wait.

The Fifties Fair Is Here Again

This Sunday 24 August. From 10am to 5pm. Write it down in your date book.

We were there the last two years and they've been really great days-out. It was one big party with music and dancing throughout the day. And I've never seen so many rockabillies in one place at one time - everyone was dressed to the nines in era-specific wardrobe right down to their hairstyles (there's an on-site hairdressing booth if it's too much of a hassle doing it at home).

If, like me, you'd only go somewhere where there's shopping involved, you'll love the market stalls selling all-things 50s, from frocks, hats and handbags to original household items.

Another big draw for me is the venue - the Rose Seidler House. I never tire of looking at this simple but amazing piece of architecture, joining the long queue every year just to do another tour of the interior.

And don't miss the Garden Shed Movies if you want to know more about the architect Harry Seidler who built the house for his parents.

Get there early if you are driving for the quiet street fill up pretty quickly with cars, both old and new.

The Rose Siedler House
71 Clissold Road
Wahroonga
NSW
Phone: 02 8239 2211

Public Transport: Get detailed information here

Preparing For Retirement

When I saw these chairs at the thrift store a while ago, the first thing that came to mind was, "Ooooh, they'll look great under the awning of the motorhome when we retire and join the increasing number of Grey Nomads campervan-ing their way around the country." We still have quite a few years to go but I like to plan ahead - I already know what I'll be wearing. Sort of a cross between Golden Girl Blanche's resort wear and a rollergirl's white trash-y "chic", if the body still permits, of course.

But back to furniture...My pal, the Powerpuff from home, paid me a surprise visit over the weekend and no visit from the girls is complete unless there's shopping involved. On our way back down from Oxford Street, Paddington, yesterday, I saw these...






















...propped against a bin by the street. I unfolded one and it was in perfect condition. The Powerpuff and I looked at each other, grabbed one each and walked home, giggling all the way.

Now we can invite our caravan park neighbours over for cocktails under the awning.

Bang! Bang! My Baby Shot Me Down

This make-your-own-gun Play Card by What is Fun Time? is the most simple yet clever thing that we saw at the designboom mart, featuring designers from all over the world and their wares, at the Powerhouse Museum today.

It's amazing how much "weight" this self-assembled polypropylene "weapon" has. When it shoots its elastic-band load, it actually feels and behave like a real gun. It's hard to put in words so go try it for yourself tomorrow. It's the last day of the mart.

While you are there, pop into the Young Blood: Designers Market as well for products by up-and-coming Australian talent.

The Powerhouse Museum
500 Harris Street
Ultimo
Sydney