DIY studded flip flop wedges

The flip flop wedges were a rage last summer and I really wasn't quite fond of them. They seemed like you are walking on a stale, hardened loaf of bread. But then, i came across a simple pair of black and white flip flop wedges i had bought for a Ai Enma cosplay at my college farewell. 
Anyway i decided to do 'DIY' of the Yellow Box Metal Sandals.
You need: 

Metallic studs. I used a studded belt from my punk school days.

Tweezers to pull out the studs from the belt and fasten onto the Flip Flop strap.

Using your fingers to do the same can be really painful and risky.
Now just fasten the studs on the flip flop strap, in whatever design you wish. It is so easy and i love  the studs, it transforms the flip flops.

Result.


Sayonara.

A substance abuse story

Nobody stopped thinking about those psychedelic experiences. Once you've been to some of those places, you think, How can I get back there again but make it a little easier on myself? 


Someone said that my post fonts looks like i am whispering...it might be the size? But a hoarse, raspy whisper is so much more eloquent than a shrill, high pitched SCREAM.
Anyway, i am back home where time just seems to stand still and the unchanging mountainous landscape gives me a stability.. a sense of permanence, that i am unable to feel anywhere else. Call it my comfort pill. 
The abundance of mushrooming hookah bars and freely available grass (pun intended) shakes me out of my reverie. How come my little sleepy hollow change into this? Anyway i am not complaining.
Once i went with my bestie cum bro, A, on a bike ride to the nearby hills. Tripping on beauty and the smell of wet grass, earth and tree bark, i was so close to ego death. I was on another mind plane for the rest of the day, coming to sense with a call from T, screaming that he hates me. 
I believe that one becomes a different person when in the hills...a little dreamy, melancholic, a bit detached from everyone and everything around. i feel all that and more, a sense of hysteria that i am all alone and the Buddhist theory that says that everything is an illusion- happiness, sadness, anger and Jealousy (this one is for us, T), keeps hammering inside me. 
Anyway, i always knew Himalayas were a bit of magic...and a little of that magic dust has been rubbed off on a few alternative souls, i believe.  No  matter how psychotic or detached or deranged i become, i guess i am happy to be here. This is where i truly belong. No Novocaine, give me some trippy Himalayan air any day.


" The monkeys sung sorrowfully to each other as they hunted for dry roots in the fern-draped trees, and the last puff of the day-wind brought from the unseen villages the scent of the damp wood smoke, hot cakes, dripping under growth, and rotting pine cones. That smell is the true smell of the Himalayas, and if it once gets into the blood of a man, he will, at last, forgetting everything else, return to the hills to die."
- wrote Rudyard Kipling, one of us who got a taste of the Himalayan magic dust.

My Rubik's cube is never solved.

Heartsick passion - forever lasting
You make me feel..
So fierce
The daddy-closet-raid continues and i find more treasures. i am still not so sure if i have a heart. Even if i do, i just cannot make up my mind. 
Did you know 'confusion' is a pathological condition? Not limited to a harmless ',i don't remember what i ate for breakfast yesterday?' I have been in this disoriented phase for so long, it seems comfortable...the absence of any real feelings and the staring into blankness. 
As of now i feel fierce...*ROAR*. 
New age woman armed with new age mental conditions and even newer graduation specializations. 

My raided booty: a charcoal grey and a greenish brown blazer.

  

For the interview i traded the denim shorts with black shorts.

PS- i read my post...its funny how i jump from one topic to another. Very demode. i shall work on it.

Sayonara

Untitled.

i found Dad's old denim shirt. It is just so comfortable.

i tried to break the age old fashion faux pax of wearing denim with denim...by adding a contrasting coloured belt and brown leather wedges.

Pretty happy with the result, when i checked the photographs, i see my hot pink slippers and chucks in the background. Eyesore. Anyway now, off for a lazy lunch with mum to gorge on pork ribs at our favourite restraunt.

Longest road to nowhere

Finally a stroke of luck...got selected for an interview. Keeping my fingers crossed now.

You win some...you lose some.

i lost someone, today, but i am numb. It is like a truck hit me and i am still standing in the middle of the road, bleeding but not moving. i thought...but i guess, i thought wrong. You, yes you, YOU are the commander-in-chief of the army of jerks and two-face-liars. 

I am annoyed. i keep forgetting that this is supposed to be a "fashion blog" but i can't care less. Who defines what is and what is not fashion? Mine will not be another fashion post. My style comes from my moods. 

So, i rebelled.

Today's look was- boyfriend jeans-challenging the figure defining and flattering works or fashion. 

Excuse the hazy pictures...the camera rebelled too.

Giddy up and gold mine, horse dust down time
Its my life, its my time, we've been gettin' nowhere
Gold mine, different place, different time

Peter Pan

Jobless and bored...i have decided to introspect. 

i have come to the conclusion that i will forever be trapped in the Neverland, will never age. At least not mentally. 

You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you, Peter Pan. That's where I'll be waiting.

i am happy to be living in a Neverland. Like Tinkerbell.

Anyway, here is my dress up to go out for a solo icy blue drink in a coffee shop nearby. i love this frock... it has these quaint cats peeping from behind the yellow daisies. Nice and summery.

   Every time you say you dont believe in fairies, a fairy dies.

        Let me just think some happy thoughts...they lift you into the air and you can fly.

Architect of decay.

The only human institution which rejects progress is the cemetery.

What i wore for the convocation ceremony.

i finally become a post graduate on 2nd April 2011. I loved the drama but hated the changes, though i never even shed a tear during my separation with T. Yet, something just doesn't feel complete without T.

It is hard to tell the world we live in is either reality or dream.

And it is scarily true...i am leading the empty house life.

I watched the Korean movie, Bin Jip (translated: empty house), again. It has always influenced me and somehow along the way , psychologically convinced me that love happens with no words spoken. Silence keeps it real. 

We all are like empty houses, looking for the perfect interior designers.