It's 4am and I have been stranded at the Abu Dhabi airport for the past well, 4 hours. Transit would have been a better word except transit brings feelings of elation as travelers sweep pass corridors, barely brushing each other's shoulders before hurrying off to their departing gates. Some stop for a few luxurious minutes to pick up some candies for the kids or the latest bottle of eau de parfum for the lover, at home or elsewhere. Or the bottle of liquor or that carton of cigarettes that have become important social baggages. But stranded meaning, you're slouched in one of those stiff airport metal seats with bad internet connection.
I meant to while my time away by getting a magazine which was destined to be my bosom buddy for the remaining 10 hours. It was between Vogue or Wired. Nat Geo Traveler or BMW Magazine. Monocle or Lonely Planet. In the end, I picked a copy of this month's Marie Claire UK. I thought I needed some light reading and contrary to popular belief, Vogue ain't any lighter than the Economist. They are different bibles for different sorts. So Marie Claire seems good. Blonde enough in some pages and smart enough in others. A fair combination fit for wee hours reading. It is of utmost importance that I do not jam anymore facts than I need to, yeah, after almost two weeks worth of CNN & BBC, I seriously need to lighten up baby. I didn't pick up anymore travel magazines because I think I should divert my mind's attention and start pepping it for work. No more wandering and wondering aimlessly on Parisian streets and/or in the labyrinth of dreams conjured by my imaginative mind. At least not for another year before we take on... London :)
Two more hours... what am I gonna do, what am I gonna do...
At times like this, my mind wanders off (yet again) to two places. Before I reached this forsaken place or my next destination. Since I'll be home soon, then obviously I'm missing the place I left which is Paris. And you can expect me to be yakking about it for the next few weeks. If you think it's a bore, come back after that. I should be done by then :)
Ah... Paris, Paris. One most important lesson I've learned from the French is the art of style. Everything and I mean everything is an accessory. You name it. It goes beyond conventional wearables. From salt and pepper grinder (think Peugeot, yup that's right... you've been riding on a pepper grinder for years now) to Chanel No. 5, which I picked up a bottle of Chance by Chanel by chance because unlike number 5, I won't swoon at the slightest whiff. If I had a French grandmother, I would imagine her smelling like Chanel No. 5, all day. So yea, I was also torn between YSL Parisienne, Dior Shine, Lancome Treson EDT, Givenchy Dance with Givenchy or Chanel Chance. And so Chance it is. All French! That pretty much tells you why it's important to start accessorizing yourself with EDTs and EDPs because that's what the French do. The attention to detail, of something that cannot be touched, cannot be seen, cannot be tasted yet evokes powerful emotions and ideas that can only come from a scented whiff of a perfect blend that lingers in our memory lane forever. Aqua di Gio does it for me as with Tommy Girl which reminds me of the folliest of all folly living during college days. And so I've decided to leave that and write a new chapter of biography with the likes of Escada and Givenchy's limited editions.
So how many bottles of fragrance does one really need? Good question as I asked myself the very same thing when I was about to buy another bottle - that's what an idle mind can do to you, therefore thou shalt always keep it occupied. I think I'm gonna start collecting all my favourite scent. Well Christmas is coming and if you need a bit of hint, scroll up. No, I'm kidding. Don't get me perfume, it's too personal unless of course you insist. I remember a conversation I had with a guy friend the other day. He bought a bottle of EDT for his girlfriend. Bold move. It's either his girl isn't so peculiar about scent or he's a very lucky guy. Getting the wrong perfume for someone close to you is like sending the message: I don't really know who you are. Maybe you should consider this personality instead. OR because it's been advertised really heavily therefore, it had to be the right one! OR worse, my ex wore this so I thought you might like it too. Either way, your nonchalance will get you into a lot of unnecessary trouble. But you know what? For you brave souls out there who have steel balls of fire and intend to take up this challenge, I salute you. If prior homework is done, I don't see how you cannot get it right. And the reward thereafter, I promise will be handsome :) It will worth more than striking jackpot and she may really think you are God-sent after all.
Speaking of which, I've been carrying around one of the most famous and at the same time most boring books of all times. Men are from Mars and women are from Venus and trust me, with both their issues combined, they are super heavy to lug around on journey with. Just imagine the weight of the real thing! Anyway, I swore to myself that I'll finish the book no matter how much it tries to send me to ze Z land. Because if I don't, I'll probably never pick it up again. Don't get me wrong, I think the author, John Gray did a fantastic job in counselling couples and I'm sure countless relationships have been saved. It's just that I was looking for some really interesting golden insights on human behavior that explain the differences between these two majority genders. Simply because of the acclamation it received. Instead, all I got was a lot of common sense in sentences which fail to engage and brought a lot of frustration. It's like a text book lesson: Women want to talk, men don't want to talk. Men want to fix, women don't want to be fixed. So the clash of the titans go. So the next time, if your man doesn't want to talk, let him be. He's an adult, he will talk when he wants to talk so stop mothering him. And if your woman wants to talk, just do the 'hmm, ahh, I see' and that should do it. The art of listening is mastered by few, but stop trying to be Mr. Smarty Pants and give stale solutions. She's not stupid, she knows her options and will pick the right one when the time comes so stop fixing her.
Well, even though these knowledge is hidden within all of us from our personal experience or someone else's experience, I guess we still need someone doubly smart with good English to put it in between two covers like John Gray, so that it can be read and we can go aha! I knew that! That kind of massages our ego a little, doesn't it?
Anyway, you wouldn't believe how time flies. As the pages on my notebook grow thinner, I am finally able to board the plane. Who says you can't pass time in your own thoughts? I just did. Au revoir ;)
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