Hello Singapore! If you haven’t heard already, you should know that there’s a new pastry shop in town. In the east at 267 Joo Chiat Road, to be precise. Strictly Pastry is a wonderfully decorated little walk-in pastry shop by a wonderful pastry chef, Hannah Wong, who has won accolades for her work in the past. Her fiery passion and dedication to the art of pastry are evident in the beautiful sweet delicacies she made and perfected over the years. To see how delicious and exquisite the cakes and desserts are, visit the shop soon. Feast your eyes, tempt your tastebud and satisfy your tummy with wonderful, wonderful treats!
Strictly Pastry is also available for custom order for parties, birthdays or celebration. Now you can have your cake and eat it too!
I forgot to mention the soft launch of my design studio Atelier Li Foret’s website. Opps.
Following this is ALF’s first design, an elegant and simple clutch bag with stitch motif designed based on the study of Chinese screen patterns. More images at Atelier Li Foret’s Facebook page.
I haven’t been spending at much time as I like in the studio. Here are some snippets from the past few weeks.
1. A roll of paper
2. Screen printing
3. Speedball frame
4. Photo emulsion from screen printing
5. Sewing design
I don’t remember when I was first drawn to the elegance of terrarium but the fascination has never gone away. Unlike bonsai, which of course is an entirely patience-testing art form on its own, there is a million creative ways one can do for a terrarium. It’s like a mini-jungle of endless possibilities, combinations and of course, creative fun.
I’ve been trying to develop a daily creative routine for myself lately to ooze some brain juice to help develop the next design project. The routine hasn’t been very much a routine so far. So I’m in dire need to jump-start the under-performing brain.
Over the last few months, I’ve been so inspired by conversations with a few close friends about succulent plants. I have a few succulent plants which has been exposed to the elements, not watered frequently or replanted in any form since April this year. Yet, it’s thriving and flowering with the brightest of yellow petals. How baffling. It’s time to do something about it. Armed with two vases and very little knowledge of planting, I played around with what I have and came up with something simple. This is the something.
For all the legendary things I hear and know about coffee, it couldn’t keep me awake during those long nights of chasing assignments. You would think that a child born into a clan that is well-known for their coffee would have an intrinsic link to it by default. I’ll say that the smell of freshly grounded coffee is heavenly though. Long black or double macchiato is the only effective poison for the occasional late-nights.
So, I stopped drinking coffee for a few months now and switch to tea instead. I’ve taken a special liking to chai. Well, I’ve always drank chai latte anyway, much to the disappointment of all my barista-nespresso-coffee loving friends. There is nothing more soothing for a morning start than the whiff of spices, honey and milk.
Coming out shivering, fresh from the saltwater of Lifou, I said to the Melanesian man and woman at their makeshift ticket booth of a folded table and colourful umbrella, “Merci. C’est magnifique!“.
For a second of what seems like an eternity, he stared with amusement at the face of an Asian girl with snorkel and fins, dripping wet from head to toe. The place was crawling with tourists, mostly Anglo-saxon, white, polynesians and a sprinkle of Asians. French words spilling out from an Asian tourist on a remote island must be rare.
“Tu parle Français !??” He quizzed with a huge smile on his face. I love the Melanesian smile that I noticed throughout my short trip to New Caledonia and Vanuatu. Wide, genuine grin that flashes a set of white teeth. Never hesitant.
“Un peu…. a little,” I replied with a smile.
Amused, he laughed and I followed suit. I received similar reaction at a pâtisserie the day before so I could only guess that locals are glad to hear a foreigner uttering more than a few twisted syllables of bonjour and merci.
Beyond, it was a breathtaking view with no barrier between me and the Pacific Ocean of Lifou. It was clearer than turquoise, aqua, sapphire or any ocean colour that words could describe. I was in paradise. This is how I fall in love with Nouvelle-Calédonie.
A thought of a lasting seconds,
Crosses each other,
Launching a thousand
secrets of endless desires.
When I travelled to Singapore and Malaysia this year, I started writing poems again. It was an exercise that I’ve been doing over the years but not as extensively as I have done like this year. And I make it a habit to write on paper with a pen. When travelling on the road, it was easier and quicker to jot down a few lines with a pen than attempting with a tablet.
I’ve never fully appreciate the therapeutic importance of poetry until recently. Writing poetry is the quickest, shortest and cheapest therapy in replacement to a long journal entry. I still keep a private diary but find freedom in burying secrets in short sentences and stanzas because sometimes, that is all I can say; in secretive codes of diminutive chunks. I’ve written the occasional poems between the years but for a short few months this year, I fell into an affecting spell. The only effective antidote was literature. So I wrote and wrote and wrote to yield a large collection of poems that pours over the same sentiments told a hundred different ways. It was like a leaky tap that drips an endless stream of unresolved emotions.
A selected few will be published here over the next few weeks. Some are first and only draft, some will need to be expanded while some has been reworked. Many were written during a period of time circling around similar and connecting subjects.
Sun can be harsh in Australia. I love the sunlight but sometimes I rather avoid it like a plague. However, there are moments in between on mornings and evenings when the lightness that streamed into my studio becomes bearable. I kept finding things caught in between the softness and the shadows, unnoticed corners became unhidden and kind colours illuminating the forgotten.
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