On normal days, I pace a box. 

Step by step, I'd walk its area, length times breath, width times height. When the time comes that I reach a corner, I turn back and walk again. This I do repeatedly, perpetually, eternally. I wonder how long it'll take before this box isn't a box anymore and how long it'll take before I'd walked every inch and how long it'll take before my legs would stop walking.

There was period of time between shooting this outfit and writing this post that I interrogated people I came across with vigor that, I'll admit, was rather frightening regarding the actual style of this look because confession: I do not know what to categorize this look as. Odd and entirely unintentionally, of course, as I had only reached for pieces that were familiar to me; a crop top and high-waisties.

The only graphic top I have worn in the past year or so all had one thing in common; they had cats on them, so this is a pretty big graduation for me. Moving on from beloved felines to...a zebra? I liked it. Though not something one will see on a stripey, preppy crop top on the usual basis, the strange taxidermal reminder was precisely why I was drawn to it in the first place, though I've got to thank a friend who thrifted this for me from The Philippines.

Opting for the monochromatic ensemble the zebra heads (pun fully intended), I threw pieces of raven from the hand-me-down stash; high-waisted skorts from mother's 90s HK wardrobe and a sling bag that feels almost cool. Its silver side studs, an undeniable shout to the wild, wild West, and an indecipherable insignia are the stark quirks of the little bag I have taken quite a liking to.

Amongst the many answers I received, the most amusing one would have to come from my brother who, after seeing a photograph of the ensemble, replied, "I don't know how to describe style, but to me, this is punk. Not that punk. Introverted punk."

Perhaps it was not the best idea to ask a cloud-headed pianist for answers when it comes to clothes, but mother, who instantly yelled, "Korean! This is definitely Korean style!" or male acquaintances who cheekily guffawed out "prisoner!" were not much help either. "Schoolgirl" was another answer I received though I swear by To Kill a Mockingbird that that was never my intention for this look. Boyfriend probably had the best answer -- though an equally frustrating one -- saying, "This is hard because it's so mixed."

Slap a more poetic word on top of that and you have this post, a sluggish exposition of eclecticism and subjectivity, the latter for which would be expedited as soon as this sentence serves as what I hope is satisfactory segue. It hit me after three days of exasperation that the same thing can look like another thing to different people -- not exactly ground-breaking but an epiphany nonetheless.

Think "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and "half-full or half-empty." Apply to own life as needed.

Brunei Style Blogger May Cho in a monochromatic and eclectic look, rustic, grunge, preppy, modern, striped top, high-waisted, choker

Taking into account all of the answers above, I'd like to think that this look is a combination of all of the answers I received; vintage and rustic, preppy and casual chic. With stray pieces like the choker making an appearance and the domination of fail-proof black juxtaposed against coy braids and stripes, this look is perhaps the epitome of eclectic within the scope of The Mayden's wardrobe.

And I sort of love it; sort of love it to not be confined to one box and sort of love it that this appears as various different things to various different people, sort of love it that my viewpoint is skewed in the eyes of others. This could likely be the catalyst to the stop of my unending, unjustified and unyielding self-comparison.

But I digress.

What are your thoughts on subjectivity and self-comparison? What about diversity in a person's style?




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