I’ll never forget this girl named Katrina in my school bus back when I was in freshman high school. I must have been 13 at that time. While all the other kids played with each other in the bus, I chose to read my mom’s magazines. Back issues of Vogue were my after-school best friend. They made that agonizing thirty minute ride home bearable. Whenever Gucci ad pages came up, Katrina, who sat across me, always chanted “look at my Gucci watch, look at my Gucci watch!” before shoving her wrist to my face. If memory served me right, she was the daughter of a lawyer and for what seemed like eternity, she bragged about her stupid Gucci watch that she received as a gift. It was sickening. Deep down inside, I felt rather inferior because all I had at that time was this neon orange and neon green rubber and fabric “POP” Swatch that my aunt gave me as a Christmas present. I’m not a combative type of person so I didn’t say anything. Besides, she was a year older than me. She had Benetton accessories. I had Penshoppe (a Filipino brand akin to I dunno, Forever 21). I simply shut up and flipped through my magazines. That same year, I begged my parents to buy me that iconic Prada black nylon backpack with two pockets on the front. My parents weren’t having it from a thirteen year old child, of course. It wasn’t until I was fifteen that my mom finally bought one for me.
Fast forward a decade and a half later… I popped by the Prada store on Corso Venezia in Milan last week to stock up on some spring/summer goodies. I bought another pair of golf shoes, two trousers and this navy blue backpack. Just seeing it on the rack (they come in gray and brown as well) brought back childhood memories. I took it out for a spin in Amsterdam this weekend.
Hat, shirt, shorts by Acne, sunglasses by Yves Saint Laurent, jacket gifted by Versace, backpack and shoes by Prada
I guess one cannot erase the emotional scars of yesteryear (I can’t say I’m very angry because thinking about it, we were all young and naive) but let me tell you, walking out of a store after buying something you really like, on your own terms, with your own money, is always an exhilarating experience.
So. New York, Hong Kong, New York again, Hong Kong again, then Singapore. Now we’re going to Stockholm! Hola my dearest readers. I’m back on the blog. I’m currently in Europe for a round of business meetings, contract signings and of course, to try to celebrate Christmas with the BF. I’ve been here for a few days now but I’ve been running around town in subzero temperatures.
Thanks to the insane winter weather, I ended up stranded in Amsterdam last Saturday.
Now I’ve stayed at many airport hotels but nothing beats Yotel in Amsterdam Schiphol. I had a very long layover and because I didn’t have a Schengen visa, I couldn’t get out of the airport. So for 76 euros, I got myself a room to bunk in after the fourteen hour flight from Manila instead of wandering around Schiphol for the next sixteen hours.
After sitting behind two geriatrics AND beside a mother and evil spawn satan child who simply could not contain himself thirty four thousand feet up in the air for the duration of our hellish fourteen hour flight, I'm glad to say I finally made it in Amsterdam.
(Airport is empty because I took this photo at 3-something AM!)
For a stopover. I have another flight in…. nine hours!
PS. I didn't get all the hoolabahoola about Avatar last year but omg I cried… as in FULL-ON WATERWORKS!!