Wine, food and a bit of country air? An offer I couldn’t refuse. This city girl would be there with boots on, hat in hand, stomach empty. Despite growing up in Wellington, I had never been to the wild Wairarapa, the wine country at the bottom of the North Island. It was the weekend of the local gem, Harvest Festival: a day celebrating the region’s best wine, eateries and country hospitality. Of course I was going (thanks for extending the invite, Connor, Maryam and Barbs!)
And so it begins again. A ten-week boxing fight camp: training to be fitter, faster and smarter. Sweating it out with the crew, and yarning post-training about our ailments, goals, struggles and goss. I’m back again to hit harder, to get hit a little less and to (potentially, probably) fight at the end of it.
On January 8th, 2018, I started a new job. The sun was shining, I was wearing my favourite skirt, and the superstitious Asian in me celebrated two eights in the date, a sign of good luck. I deemed it an auspicious day to start, and as luck would have it, every traffic light I encountered turned green as I approached it.
By the time I'd left high school, I, and what felt like the rest of the world, had given myself an immense pressure to find my passion. If you were like I was; a fresh, indecisive, wide-eyed eighteen-year-old, you had no idea what you wanted to do that night, yet alone for the rest of your life. Fast forward six years, and my future, along with my passion, is still unclear.
I used to think that a good wardrobe equated to more items and less outfit-repeats. I saw my wardrobe as a collection, and so the bigger the collection, the better. But in the past few years I started a journey in curating a more conscious, capsule and sustainable closet. I share my five criteria to building it.
Being a Wellingtonian, I grew up with a strong distrust of umbrellas. Whenever there was rain, there was wind, thus there was no use for the unreliable contraption that would no doubt, fail you. Too many raindrops have fallen on me whilst I've stopped in a really awkward, inconvenient spot on the road or footpath, taming the shrew that would be beyond saving.