#02 Musings on the Train

Da-dum da-dum da-dum da-dum

The train chugged onwards to its destination.

I sat down on the train with my Japanese book in my hand, ready to tackle those difficult Hiragana strokes needed for my test later on in the afternoon
Learning a new language is so hard.

I gave a disgruntled sigh.

It is said that we learn languages much faster when we are young. Perfect example of why adults can be more obstinate than young children.

I stared hard at my words and for a moment, looked up and caught the person sitting next to me peering over at the words in the opposite reflection of the train window. 

I gave a smug smile to myself

I'm so hardworking, I'm learning a new language, murmured the inner arrogant self. 

But not out loud, of course.

They are just thoughts meant to be kept in the inside of my head.

Da-dum da-dum da-dum da-dum

The door opened.

A man walked in wearing a yellow striped shirt and long black pants.

He looked normal.

But he was talking aloud to somebody.

Or nobody, as we, the surrounding commuters started to realise in unison. 

"The storeys are this high. It is tall.. No, I'm telling you... it is perfectly alright...Shame on you!..."

Two of the commuters gave highly appraising looks.

Wide-eyed, small frowns.  

Not even bothering to oggle discreetly.

Like looking at strippers or hookers on the streets as you cruised comfortably by in a shiny, new black BMW. 

Not bothering to hide those oogly eyes.

Shame, shame, shame on you.

That man was clearly mad.

But what makes him mad? And us sane?

What if we are the ones who are insane, and him sane?

What if thoughts are not meant to be kept inside the head, but to be blurted out as and when we like.

What if thoughts need not be coherent, but flighty, sudden and irregular like dreams and nightmares?

Shame, shame, shame on you.

Train stopped.

And he stepped off the train, disappearing from sight.

He never missed his stop. He knew where and when to stop.

Do we? 

Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.

The train chugged onwards to its destination.

One of the commuters scratched his Chinese tattoo imprinted on his neck. 

The other picked her nose and yawned loudly. 

Someone answered the phone and laughed raucously. 

And the inner voice in me was singing to the lyrics of American Girl by Bonnie Mckee...

xx

Loves, 

Nices

P.S My Japanese test went horrible, by the way...

Daily fuss over that dress code

Ever have those times when you are so sick of stupid dress codes? 

All those times whereby different occasions dictate certain rules about how you dress. There's the typical, straight-forward ones like smart casual, formal, black-ties or the simple White Parties. Then, there's the not-so-straight-forwards ones whereby you cant always wear that favourite LBD of yours out to a function or with the same group of associates twice in a row because that would make you look like a lazy, boring, miserable miserly wreck (ooh look, sounds like a tongue twister! Repeat twice and as fast as you can!) 

Well, one thing's for sure. At least its proven to be a perfect excuse to buy that cute peep-toed heels amidst masculine groans from the husband or boyfriend. 

"But you already have thousands of them! How's this any different from the one that you bought yesterday?!" 

Thats not true, roars the inner, defensive motherly instinct in us as we assiduously defend our cramped closets and shoe cabinets. Different occasions require us to have different outfits and accessories, so we girls have to resort to constantly changing our tangible goods to pander to our long-suffering vanity. 

An interesting snippet arose in my head as I typed this little musing of mine. It occurred when one of my friends declared she was going to wear the same dress she wore last year to this year's annual Dinner and Dance school event. I gazed at her in shock and immediately replied " I dont want to take a photo this year with you wearing the same dress! If I put last year's photo beside this year's, it would be so weird!" Its like she traveled to the future and back, or something like that. Thankfully, I dissuaded her. 

On retrospect, it would be pretty funny and awesome if a whole group of us did that. Wearing last year's outfits to the same event this year and taking snapshots of it. That would be cool, defying social conventions and all.

But I digress. I haven't really gotten to the main point of this post. And that is how much I find dress codes so annoying, inconvenient and devised as a social tool to dictate how we dress. Its a social hierarchy where superiors spread fashion tyranny as they make poor fashion choices and expect their subordinates to follow suit. Ugh. So, I have been volunteering at a non-profit organisation for quite some time. One time, I arrived wearing a dress that is 3 fingers above my knee. I swear, I can literally put 3 fingers above my knee and that was where the hem of my dress was. I asked my mom whether she thought the dress was too short and she said no. So given the approval of my prudent mom, I happily went to work. But lo and behold.

"What do you mean you have no dresses that are longer than that?" she asked with a look of incredulity. "Our dress code states that your dress hem needs to be just above the knee." I looked at her in disbelief as a colleague of hers sped past her in a skirt that was resolutely shorter than mines. 

"Please try to wear something longer, preferably like this." And she pointed proudly to her dress that covers her knee. Is that even a dress? Looks simply like a piece of dull, boring grey drape. Ugh. 

But one shall not admit defeat in the face of adversity (and aversion). From that day onwards, I resorted to wearing maxis and long skirts that are tight and flowy and feminine-looking. Determined not to submit myself to the failings of fashion 'drapery', I made absolutely sure my outfits are colourful, pretty AND flattering. Sometimes, I played around with the boundaries of the dress code. Wearing a long, yellow dress but revealed my shoulders or dresses that hint of a bra strap, but not too obviously, of course. Little signs of my rebellion in the jealous bureaucracy of dress codes. 

There are times, however, I found myself in despair amidst this long, grueling battle and wished that I could just throw on my comfy pair of shirt and shorts and head to work. But social conventions dictate that we cannot. And hence, I find myself inadvertently choosing outfits that will help take me to work, instead of what I actually, really liked. I could buy both, but if I have a budget, then the former comes first. I lament sometimes, how society dictates how we dress and inevitably shape our dress styles and choices.

I guess it is a sign of 'growing up'. But as we lament, I cant help but feel fortunate as I punched my digits into the NETs machine or swipe my credit card in exchange for that 12th pair of shoe. 

Cheers to working life and that little ongoing daily rebellion we all have with the dress code.



xx
Loves,
Nices