Zay's Blog

Eyelash extension maybe?

Think you need an eyelash extension? Think twice.

A friend has guinea-pigged for a session before her engagement party, and according to this beauty connoisseur, the two-hour eye-lash "implant" didn't go very well, although it does look good after everything.

See, all the hearsays about it lasting a few months and looking natural are bullshits. Truth is, after your lashes have been extended, you can't rub your eyes. So, every morning after you wake up and stretch your body, go check your lashes in the bathroom with some cotton buds. A slattern like me would go loco.

Then, your eyes get irritated easily because the lashes're too long, and naturally not curled upward. Of course, a lash curler is needed, but watch out when you try to bend them, take note at the fragile caution!

It's okay if you want to put a layer of mascara, but use only light-weighted mascaras like Chanel Inmitable or Shu Uemura Precise. Or else, nobody can guarantee them to last for three months.

So, what's the solution to get beautiful long lashes? Try fake lashes.

Visit Shu Uemura for a wide array of false eye lashes, at affordable price. Pair them with haute couture from Khoon Hooi (I would suggest you personally talk to the designer for make-to-order). Pull out your checkbook for a Fendi sequined clutch to go with (visit Fendi at Starhill).

Then, voila. You can be that cover girl, too.

For Khoon Hooi, call 03-9283 8357 (make-to-order)

P/S I've already done my beauty column for the Xmas issue. Will talk about some make-up cheats in upcoming entries.

Dirrty gal comes clean

These few weeks of continual work made me realise one thing: everything in my room has whipped into a masquerade. Even my favourite book Jelinek’s The Piano Teacher – a.k.a. the most taken-care-of accessory – was covered with a thin mask of dust, echoing to the rest of the things in my room.

            “Oh, my Dior,” I sighed sadly. After long haul of walking about, thinking of what to do, I decided to go back to the basics – springclean every single shit in my room with my Whatman duster.

            But that wasn’t the perfect plan. The plan that night was to have a good laugh with Lynne Truss – Going Loco while listening to Chopin. Apparently, I already went loco before opening the book.

            I think, if you know where I am coming from, this whole cleaning chore – probably some finger-tips to others – can bring me to coffin. Seriously! I mean, I like my coffee on my table, and I like to stain my research paper with it. I like to do pedicure over Bird’s Nest, with all my NewWoman, Red, Vogue magazines scattered on the floor. And I like the fact that all my magazines lie freewheelingly on my mat. I especially like them lying there for days, weeks, so the next time I need to continue my reading, I know where exactly I’ve bookmarked. I like to work out on my stepping machine while watching DVD. And I like to eat cupcakes on my bed, while reading Dr. Gabrielle Morrissey’s sex book. I like to put my Vitamins next to my Annick Goutal, because these are the two things I can’t live without. And I like the fact that all my arm candies be inside of my little wardrobe, including the Fendi, TOD’s and K Spade. Not forgetting some Dior pussies. I didn’t care where they’re coming from, if you’re a sack, you’re in!

            But everything I did that night was putting things in order, making my life more convoluted, because the next morning when I need my Chanel eye brow pencil, I might need to spend a few minutes to locate it – it used to be between Dali and Emily Dickenson’s, but now it’s placed nicely in my Shu Uemura make-up pouch whereby there would be some other eye brow pencils to fight for my attention!

            Bugger. Am I really a housewife material, then?