A friend of mine was visiting from London years ago, and had brought with her a big box of chocolates she’d picked up on a trip to Belgium. The group of us chatted as we sampled from it, when someone exclaimed, “I can only have one piece, it’s so rich!” Having probably devoured eight pieces by that point, I’ll admit that the notion of having too much of a good thing eluded me in that moment.
My unnatural capacity to consume desserts aside, I find that the law of diminishing returns tends to hold true in most other areas of life, and a self-imposed threshold can do wonders in increasing one’s enjoyment. For me, this definitely applies to art. While it’s easy to lose oneself in a great museum or gallery for hours, I’ve discovered that after a certain amount of time has passed, or after I’ve viewed a certain number of pieces, my ability to truly appreciate additional works decreases. The Rubin Museum has a unique approach to this problem.
The Rubin Museum features art from the Himalayas, India and neighboring regions, but they’ve always promoted a more immersive experience, encouraging visitors to engage in more than just walking through the galleries. They regularly offer meditation and yoga sessions, talks and a variety of other programs to “inspire visitors to make connections between contemporary life and the art and ideas”.
Continue reading K2 Friday Nights at the Rubin Museum
Living in New York City is not without its challenges: sky-high rents, overcrowding and a consistently manic pace. But those who suffer it do so for the trade-offs: great art, great food and great entertainment. Besides its 8 million residents, visitors also pass through here in droves, making it a great market for… just about anything. Enter Zoolander 2 and Kiehl’s cross-promotional stunt: The Derek Zoolander Center for People Who Don’t Age Good (or DZCFPWDAG to those in the know).
Continue reading Zoolander 2, Kiehl’s and the DZCFPWDAG
Growing up as a fashion-crazed girl in Malaysia was like being a bread lover with celiac’s. So when I moved to the United States to go to college, I couldn’t wait to indulge my fashion proclivities. I happily rocked plaid miniskirts with matching sweaters a la Clueless (I realize I’m probably dating myself here), when one day I overheard a classmate snidely remark, “So nice of her to dress up for class.” Then I started working, and the whole idea of an office wardrobe beckoned, so inspired by the power suits of Dynasty and Working Girl (okay, dating myself again here), I enthusiastically traded my plaid miniskirts and sweaters in for pencil skirts and tailored jackets. A colleague rolled her eyes and stated, “I don’t understand why people dress up for work.”
Time and again I was made to feel like the girl in the ballgown at the ballgame. I understood that for most people, clothing was simply meant to be functional. But for me, it always felt like an opportunity to be creative, albeit on a different type of canvas. I was enthralled with the myriad colors, shapes and textures to choose from. I was enamored with the way a piece of clothing could take you to a different place and time. I marveled at the designers who created wearable art, and I yearned to bring a piece of that world into mine. Fashion was aspirational: it was a bridge between the the life I wanted and the life I had.
Continue reading Fairy Tale Fashion at the Museum at FIT