Today, after finishing her term here with us, a CLEO intern asked me for a letter of reference.

She got me thinking of the time I too asked for a letter of reference after interning at an accounting firm. Did it help me get into a better university? A better job? Well, it certainly didn’t hurt my chances.

So, let me say then that it’s weird for me to be at the bottom end of the letter now. Not to play up the importance of my signature, but to recognize how under-appreciative I was of the one I received.

Considering especially that all I remember doing at the tax department was delivering documents to the Internal Revenue Board and – oh, how could I forget? – developing a torrid, love-hate affair with the photocopier. (By this, I mean the machine and not some guy whose job scope is to photocopy.)

At CLEO however, the interns REALLY work. Of course, there are the coffee runs and the photocopying, but there are also the very glamorous fashion runs – to get that emergency purse/shoe/tights/vest/nipplet to fill up an editorial piece. Then there are the interviews, the research, the transcriptions, the organizing of the beauty products Stephanie (CLEO Beauty Editor) gets, and not least of it all, the working with a madcap group of editorial staff that lives in CLEO-land.

I just wished someone had told me way back then about this CLEO internship before I asked the question: “dad, where should I intern during my break?”

So-cute CLEO interns:


"When I first started, I expected it to be like what you see in The Devil Wears Prada and Running In Heels. I was so afraid but in the end, the people are all very friendly and helpful. I'm very grateful for the guidance and opportunities I got from CLEO, and also the friends that I've made." - Alvina Tai, 21

"The CLEO team is super nice and friendly so it’s a fun working environment for me." - Nur Atiqah binti Kamarudin, 21


"I was pleasantly surprised to find that the CLEO team is far from the hoity-toity media types. They're hilarious and you can tell that these are intelligent people!" - Sharifa Alia Husin, 21

I can’t remember the last time I wore my skinny jeans on the weekend. It’s just been too hot lately to be confining your body to clothing that hug and snug. In fact, just the thought of squeezing myself into my black jeggings is making me sweat. 

For this, my easy-breezy cotton dresses have been worn and washed to death. So much so I can almost hear the threads and seams cry “give me a rest!” whenever I pull them out to wear (often right out of the washing machine). 

To add, the heat also makes me stylistically lazy. On weekends (without the freezing office air-conditioning) I don’t feel like putting much thought into what bottom to match with the top. Voila! These dresses come to the rescue again cos while I’m lethargic, the dresses are punchy, playful and full of fresh flower prints. (You can always count on a pretty bouquet to transform your mood!)

The only thing is, every Saturday and Sunday, I’m wearing one of the same three dresses I have on rotation. Does this make me look lazy? Or could this be what a “uniform” look is all about? 

Karl Lagerfeld for instance, is only ever seen in an immaculate suit-skinny-tie-and-high-collar combo. Perfection! And it happens to be his uniform. 

My humble cotton dresses are in my own life perfection too – especially on hot sunny days. And hey, if the formula ain’t broke, it’s an excuse to shop for more of the same! 

What’s your weekend uniform? And more importantly, have you perfected it?


One of three dresses I have on rotation for the weekend (and holidays too!).

You know how when you were younger, you’d put on heels, blast the music, steal your mum’s cocktail dress and then sing out loud into the hairbrush to an audience of, well, your mirror image? Don’t lie. If you weren’t pretending to be a singer, maybe you were strutting, pretending to be a model?

Of course, I don’t do this anymore. Now, I use my own clothes.

In my fantasy land, I’m always the cool lead singer of a pop band, not unlike Gwen Stefani or Fergie. I’m oozing with punk confidence cos everyone in the crowd loves me! Just loves me! Then OMG! Look at the time! I’m late for the party!

Anyway, this is how I prep myself up for a social night out. Whilst I’m comfortable to share this on my blog, I would never dream of actually strutting my stuff up on a real stage. NO. WAY.

That’s why I have to applaud the contestants of the Estée Lauder Model Search 2009 contest held last month. The contest gives real women the opportunity to transform themselves into modelicious beauties. Twenty finalists were proudly showing off their assets to a crowd of strangers at the concourse area of Suria KLCC.

Walking up and down the catwalk, these mostly unprofessional models are the exact opposites of false modesty. In their body-conscious dresses, they appear to be blissfully unconscious of what you think – in their very own room, checking themselves out in the mirror. There’s something to be admired in their bodacious bravado. Bravo!

If there was a Lip-Syncing Pop Star Search, maybe, just maybe, I’ll make my way there!

The top three finalists from category B (above 30 years old). Carol Lai, left is the winner.

 Finalist from category A (29 years old and below) Soraya Khatijah Matthews

The 20 finalists of the Estée Lauder Model Search 2009 contest.

After lunch the other day, I decided to treat myself to commercially-brewed coffee. In I went, into the café but the nice fella behind the counter decided to give me something extra: my cappuccino came with a comment. No, not a compliment. A comment.

“You look really tired”, he said, but with the most charming smile ever – and in exactly the same tone in which he earlier asked for: “RM8.95 maam.”  This honest un-compliment caught me off guard and I heard myself responding: “What a nice thing to say to a lady” – also with a smile, but my eyes piercing him with sarcasm.

Why this guy found it important to tell me that I look tired, I don’t know. Out of concern? For his eyes?

The thing is when I have no make-up on, I think I look “youthful”, but in fact, I look like I need foundation... and sleep. Yet, Mr Charming Smile didn’t look like Man Hunt Of The Year material himself. Still, I didn’t have the need to tell him how vertically challenged he is.

What’s sadder is that I actually get this comment often – you’d think I’d be used to it by now. There is also this one work acquaintance who greets me always with “you look tired”, even though I never tell her how her dark roots are visible from a mile away.

Hey, I’m all for honesty – but I guess only when I’m prepared for it. Moral of the story: when you have nothing nice to say, don’t say “tired” at all. If you have to, find something interesting to comment on. For example, shoes – women always have interesting shoes on.
      

How not to look tired

On weekends in particular, I don’t like having too much make-up on but these tips help without making me feel like a vain-pot:

* Tinted moisturiser. It’s worth shopping around for the perfect one.

* Concealer just at spots that need help, i.e. the shadows around my eyes and lips.

All those years of hating my ballet classes, I now miss it. Gone are the good old flexible days. Although I was never as poised as others, the dance itself is really very graceful.

BUT…

As any girl who’s taken ballet lessons can testify, a class full of spandex-ed bodies headed by a teacher who’s paid to judge your every move, is not the best place to shape one’s confidence. These classes teach you where your body falls short.

My first memory of feeling fat was in a ballet studio – compounded by 360 degrees of mirrors. Not only that, I learned that fat is not up to scratch (I used to get pinched at my stomach and asked: “What is this? Lunch?”). To add to being “chubby”, I was also clumsy. My feet did not know how to arch and could not turn out perfectly like Ronald McDonald.

Sure, now that I’m an adult and in a job that requires me to judge every picture that goes into the magazine, I can be self-deprecating. I guess as you grow older, you also grow thicker skin and learn how to be less sensitive – but more aware of your natural talent.

Ballet lessons enriched my life but I wasn’t born to dazzle a crowd with my lightness of feet. But then again, how many people are natural-born ballerinas? Or natural-born writers, engineers, accountants or (ahem!) editors. Obviously, I’ve also learnt how to accept defeat gracefully.

These days, the only kind of dancing I do involves CLEO Bachelors. I’m in green and on stand-in for one of the many dance rehearsals back in April 09.

So my job involves trying on lots of beautiful, stylish things. I realise this is an enviable position to be in and so I won’t do the false bickering about how it’s all tough, tough work. (It is, but that’s another post.)

On top of dealing with things that promise to help you become beautiful and stylish, surprisingly, I also deal with people. People behind the products who represent these brands. As such, with this post, I’ll start featuring people I meet on the job. Predominantly, these are other writers/editors or brand, marketing and PR executives. (Stop rolling your eyes).

The first here is Miss Nadia Yap from Kiehl’s.

Nadia is the product executive for Kiehl’s. She is tall, young, sweet and (just when you can’t envy her more) smart. When you hear her speak, you’ll wonder “when did Malaysians get so articulate?”. She’s at ease when she presents – full of confidence, eloquence, and without notes, mind you! By accident or not, she is the perfect marketing face (which is made of porcelain, by the way) for Kiehl’s.

It is girls like Nadia that set the standards and expectations when I meet other young Malaysian girls. This is my bubble. It happens to be full of beautiful, stylish and smart people, and I’m used to being surrounded by everything beautiful, stylish, smart.

So much so that in my mind, every girl on the street should be a potential Miss Malaysia candidate… until I look in the mirror and see two giant-sized pimples on my forehead. Then my bubble goes pop! Where’s the Kiehl’s Spot Treatment?

Nadia is all business and talks Kiehl’s ingredients.

I’m playing with clay which is a main ingredient of the Kiehl’s Rare Earth range.

The Kiehl’s Rare Earth range is great for combination to oily skin and will be in stores by September 09.

My bored outfit is suddenly cool again! I even have a better personality when I wear the sunnies – like it’s some kind of rock-star mask. I feel taller, my gait a bit edgier…

Can you guess the common theme of the following words?

* Lai-neh-teh
* Lee-neh-teh
* Lilik
* Loh-nad
* Lai-nerd
* Leonard
* Lynn-tee
* Leaf-let
* Lee-nee
* Lee-nord
* Li-ah-net
* Li-teh-neh
* Nattay

They are permutations of how my name is pronounced – according to various individuals who call up CLEO asking for the Editor-in-Chief. 

Oh, you laugh. But you’ve gotten your name meshed up by other people before, haven’t you? Really? You must not be a Malaysian then.

Everyone on the CLEO team has had people mispronounce their name. And pretty common names too. Elsa become Esla. Stephanie becomes Ste-pah-nie. Aileen becomes Alien. Ain becomes Iron.

But I’m not sure if I should be as annoyed as I make myself to be. I don’t know if it’s their ignorance that puts me off or if I’m just being obnoxious and judgmental. After all, Lynette (pronounced Lih-net or Leh-net) is not what you’d call reflective of a conventional Malaysian Chinese name like Lee Lee Lee (I did not make this up, this name belongs to my cousin).

Lynette is in fact of Welsh origins (at least that’s what Google tells me) and therefore, how can I blame strangers for calling me “Lohnad”?

To all Malaysians out there with “exotic” names – let it go. Accept your fate. Unless you know how to pronounce Hervé Léger (without looking up Google), then please, you can not complain.

To the person who called up and asked for the Editor-in-Chief of CLEO, Ms Leaflet Ow, please contact me here. I’m interested to get to know you better – and to know what your name is.

If ever I feel too good about myself, I just have to consult with one of these people: a dentist, facialist or a hair stylist; for any one of them have the power to reduce my self-confidence to that of your kitchen tea towel.

“Your gums will disappear before you’re 40”, “Your blackheads are more congested than Jalan Sultan Ismail”, and “Your hair is too dark/dry/dull!” All said with much concern but always come out sounding like criticism.

Still, can’t live without them. Still, loathe my appointments with them.

It’s one thing for a stranger to facetiously comment that you’re “looking tired” but when an “expert” tells you you’re not well, it kinda hits the spot where it hurts most – your insecurities. It also confirms what you already know – that you’re not perfect and just don’t have the darn time or money for maintenance. I know I’m not Angelina Jolie but do they have to frown to my face when they tell me I need to floss/scrub/condition more?

That’s why my most recent hair appointment to blow-dry my locks was such a refreshing turn of experience. Instead of harping on how brittle my hair ends were and pushing a treatment course, the hairstylist asks where I got my hair permed cos she thought it was “very nicely done.” She is the first hairstylist to ever make a non-negative remark on my hair. For that, I walked out of the salon not only with a little lift of hair volume but also with a little ego boost.

Would love to hear your own experiences with your facial/dentist/hair appointments!

Whenever I can, I like to remind the guys in my life what good multi-taskers we women are compared to them. Lately however, I’ve been reading more and more articles that give multi-tasking a bad rep. Something about it being counter-productive and disturbing your energy “flow”. Bah.

And yet, I still do it. In fact my multi-tasking disease has now spread to my books. If there’s a workshop for multibook-holics, sign me up! Cos, I don’t know how to go through one book at a time. And this is probably why it takes me forever (and then a year after that) to finish reading them. Every time I change novels, I have to re-read the last two pages from where the bookmark sits (which by the way, are glamorous things like book receipts, Starbuck serviettes, or plain old dog-ear marks).

Possibly, my problem is I treat my book collection like the Astro channels: hoping I can switch channels to suit my mood and pick up the plot as I go along. Right now though, the problem persists. I have more than one (but less than five!) books on my bed-side stand – and will probably buy more within the next few months.

So help! Teach me how to read one book at a time. Should I:

- Buy thinner books?
- Buy more interesting books?
- Learn to read faster?
- Listen to audio-books?

The other day, my innocent little walk to the coffee shop for lunch turned into a bit of a trauma trip. After getting my food at a nearby coffee shop, I waited to cross the road at the divider when a motorbike rode past innocently. Within a blink of an eye, the pillion rider held out his hand to grab my purse. Instinctively I held on tight to my purse, and that was the end of that. I still had my purse but could not believe what the idiot had tried to do!

Considering all the other horror stories I’ve heard from friends’ own experiences, I realise I’m actually very lucky. Still, I’m a little shaken and can’t help feeling a bit vulnerable – and stupid. What did I do wrong? What made me a target?

My size-of-a-clutch purse, that’s what!

So what can I do to avoid looking like I’ve got money on me? I can’t live without my purse but here’s a few things I’m trying now.

1) Going without a purse during lunch.
I use a small pencil-box like bag and put just enough money I need for lunch. Literally, RM10.

2) Going without a handbag – only during the weekend (let’s be realistic – I’m a working lady!). This is still in experimentation stage but so far, this is how it’s been:

Saturday – success!

This is how I was walking around the whole of Saturday. Thanks to four pockets – two from my top, and two from my skirt – it’s enough to stuff my handphone, money, Starbucks card, IC, driving license and car key.

Sunday – failure!

I tried OK, but the dress had NO pockets at all! So out came the giant handbag…

So far, I can’t think of any other practical, stylish and safe solution for walking around with my valuable belongings. I guess if you have less valuable stuff in your life, you can just have RM10 in your pocket and phone in the other. But where is the adventure in that?

Write to me if you have ideas on how to look stylish – and still be safe!

This being my first entry, I need to clear this up. When I see movies/TV shows about the world of magazines – Devil Wears Prada, Ugly Betty – it makes me jealous too!

 Their office suites are 17 times bigger than my work station and I have no Anne Hathaway or Emily Blunt to check my coat (scratch that) bags somewhere. Here at the ACP office, editors or editor-in-chiefs are really not that spoilt. For example, we don’t get our personal Betties, ugly or not.

The truth is I’m very capable of buying my own lunch and coffee. I do actually write parts of and edit the magazine. And, sorry to burst your apartment-sized “fashion closet” bubble – but it’s really more a “store room” of stylish stuff which we return to respective brands after featuring them.

            This sounds like I’m complaining… but behold! The glossy glamorous perks revealed: I can’t remember the last time I bought perfume; I got to fly on the ultimate biz class trip to New York recently (thanks GAP!); I’m familiar with trends that are “out” before they're actually “in”; and, (this is my favourite) I get to meet so many inspiring, talented and curious people. Then, I get to share this all with CLEO readers.

So although real life is not as showy as what you see on screen, I still wouldn’t trade this for anything else. I may sometimes look like I had a hellish day, but I’m no she-devil. I just want her office.

 My desk

The Devil's office