RAMEN NIGHT AKA JAMIE BOUTIQUE

It's me.

Moto-san Uber has become my midnight-snack stop since the very first bowl of ramen I had. The flavor is shown both through the ingredients and the decoration, which give me a sense of what the owner is like. Last night was the start of monsoon. It was cold enough to chill and walk the streets with ease. My friend and I were enjoying our Shio and Miso while listening to French music, questioning about the Moroccan sign in front of us and staring at the Vietnamese perfume rings above our heads. 

I suppose the owner is fond of Moroccan culture, which is another reason why I like Moto-san. After reading "The Alchemist", Morocco became my bucket-list place to visit. I also have a thing for the Egyptian, Arabian vibe. "One Thousand and One Nights" caused me a lot of troubles for reading it during my nap time at school. The teacher kept taking my book away and said she'd only return it to me once I finally slept. Faking it wasn't hard at all. I ended up being addicted to mysterious stories and got into witch crafts. It wasn't related to the book. But things in blur fascinate me.

Anyway, I put all the photos from last night in one post. This one. If you're around The Opera House, check out this place, 4 Ly Dao Thanh street. You may see me here at night after having Earl Grey, feel free to say hi because I may give you some more addresses for your favorite dishes. Enjoy! 

This is my friend. She's an artist.

I took this photo the other time I had Shio. It went from Miso, Shoyu to Shio. The lightest to the saltiest. 

Wrapping cake made of steamed wheat flour. 

Um. Random shot. I have a thing for yellow.

It's a small food stall but more comfortable than many ones I've been to.

Moroccan sign. Something about labor I think.

The perfume rings. There were several of them.

I'm hungry, just looking at it.

I tried changing the filter to black and white and it was still beautiful.

Located in one of the most prosperous streets in Hanoi.

Here's the address.

Running into this place gave me a same-name situation. Fun!

Headless man. The window display of a tailoring boutique.

This chilly season encourages people to smoke.

FIRST POST AFTER THE 20TH BIRTHDAY

What I wrote on the first day of October:

Hand-writing cards has been tragically forgotten in this time. Modernization calls it the innovation of convenience. Emails, messages and live calls save time and money, yet less emotion and effort. "Happy birthday" wishes are sent through cables but feelings. It's been hard to compliment someone for their memory since the appearance of reminders.

I was surprised to receive birthday wishes from people involved in fashion quicker than from my friends. Some of them didn't even say anything. I get them. Weirdos with beautiful souls.

Anyway, I'm burying my head into application. Thinking of my future cheers me up. Sometimes I ask myself where all of this energy comes from. The drive for fashion and writing. Older people told me I have this motivation because I'm young. "Pardon me. Could you repeat it?" Age is the lamest excuse anyone could use to cover their laziness, unwillingness to learn and lack of hard work. I can't erase or paint their mindset brighter. Maybe I can listen and understand because I write, I must observe and see through things. At the same time, I have to create the ability to ignore their influence. If being heard comfort people, I'll keep doing it. But they are the only ones who can help themselves.

I'm facing fashion with a different attitude. Materials and techniques interest me. I no longer want to establish myself as an entrepreneur in fashion. I'll be happy to find a brain for the logical work and a mentor who guides me with a heart. No one is really their own boss. We can never have full control as long as we are trapped in an industry. So why don't we make it less painful by giving more love and less hatred?

There are plenty of questions I have for myself. The beginning of my 20 is a rocky road and I'm a curious driver. This unlicensed me wants to give strangers a lift and keep choosing the roads leading into the woods. What do I do now?

What I wrote this midnight:

I just came home from Tadioto, check 24B Tong Dan street if you're in Hanoi. I've always liked the atmosphere here. The color tone is reddish and friendly for any types of cameras. Drink and food are well selected and A for the service. There will be an endless crowd coming in and out of Tadioto, but you'll never notice any chaos. Only you and your own favorite bar. My usual drink is Earl Grey and a choice of tapas. Tonight, I switched it to chocolate truffles with the hope of romance. And it tasted minty. 

Good news. I made a new friend today. She's taught English, German and Italian for years, and she also loves music, piano in particular. I also shared the night with my dear friend who, to me, represented the definition of sincerity. Beautiful autumn night surrounded with happiness. I have many things to tell, yet not much, as I listened to the two of them the whole night and focused on the flavors of the truffles. Less sweet, more bittersweet, I think. 

It's been a long time since I last enjoyed midnight in breeze. I wish I could relive the poetic, romantic and calm moment I just had in these words, but as you already guess, feelings are left and locked inside. I went home by bicycle. The one with brown and beige leather. Something is still flowing in my veins. I'm feeling like well boiled tea. Pure, rich in flavor and light in scent. 

I'll go to bed with this heart-warming present and leave this song here for your preference. Don't be shy in front of good music. This was a suggestion from my friend, Quincy. The two photos of me above were taken by photographer Le Tuan Anh. The third one at Tadioto was taken by chi Yenism Giap. Good night.

A CAKE AND TWO FOLKS

What I think I could do collapsed quickly. Only after that did I realize the easiest thing was the hardest. Life is full of shades of grey, but being in the grey zone frustrates me. 

I lost my belief in the kind of love between a man and a woman somewhere on the way. Like saying goodbye to my beloved dog, I knew I wouldn't be able to call another one buddy anytime soon. Time can heal wounds but it doesn't wash off the feelings. I'm afraid to be left behind. Fixing can't help. It has to be this way for an amount of time before things get better.

I will only be ok when I find my belief again. Otherwise, I'll be wandering and having the kind of fun that has an expiration date. 

Happiness must be created. I don't see it bloom on a tree. 

IT REMINDS ME OF HARRY PORTER

Normally I wouldn't post this kind of photos on my blog. This is an exception because I've been listening to really good music and it reminds me of Harry Porter. So do these photos below. Enjoy and let the music take you to sleep.

"IT'S MIDNIGHT AND THE MIND WANDERS."

I wake up every morning and think "I'm so lucky to be alive today."

Even when I'm sad, I still think I'm lucky.

Sadness and happiness only exist in the mind. I can hold onto neither of them and they have no physical or mental influence on me. Those states of mind fuel the incognito personality that a person rarely shows. Whether he or she is a devil or an angel, it certainly represents something human. 

Most of the time I don't know what is the right thing to say. People I've met are messier than I am. 

It's a lie to say that creativity is original. The moment I do something creative, I commit a crime. If my work is an obvious copy, shame on me. If my work delivers a specific kind of authenticity, jokes on me. Whatever it is, as long as it's creative, it's not original.

France. The museums, the music in the streets, the pastries, the cafes, the buildings and rude people, thiefs. Singapore. Lively nightlife, various cultures, Eastern body with Western soul, MM6, $12 pack of cigarettes. 

"It's midnight and the mind wanders.", said my friend who I believe to stay up late a lot. My dear, best things happen at midnight. I want to do something crazy, risky and magical with someone in a strange place at midnight. Perhaps I only need to walk the streets with the right one. 

Midnight is happening. Open your eyes and charge your phone because crazy humans will stay up late and post something weird. 

TALKING ABOUT LOVE AND THE CASUAL THING

I can never forget any guy that stepped into my life. Whether he was a lover or a friend, all of them came and left me with trembling feelings. Having friends with the same gender doesn't give me this attraction. Once you know his name and his work, you start to be more and more curious about his life. What turned him into the person he is today? Why is he so patient when you're so insecure and annoying? You wonder.

My first boyfriend was the same age as mine. He always wore a sweater with a shirt in fall, sometimes suited up and never forgot to put on his black leather watch. When we met, I'd take off the watch and tell him to get it fixed because the strap had worn out. Times after times. He'd say: "Can you fix it for me?" And I'd say: "Sure. I'll press these tips with this folk until they stick again." I'd really do it and he'd watch while reminding me to eat something on the table. The funny thing is I always ate more than he did and he always ended up finishing the salad. Ugh, the salad!

He inspired me. He made me believe in myself and realize how easily happiness could be achieved. I needed to do nothing but be with him. Even if I wasn't, I knew I was awesome. Then we reached to the point where everything busted in the air with dust and flame. We were so opened that we didn't feel bad exploding in front of each other. Anger, disappointment, exhaust, even boredom. Chasing our dreams became prior. The last thing that marked the end was the silence. We never said a proper goodbye. In fact, I've never set things straight as a goodbye to anyone. All happened in silence.

The first week was fine. I buried my head into work. I made up more work to do and I went out with wrong people, those I'd never have a drink with. Being a stranger to myself only worsened the situation. After 2 weeks, there came an unendurable missing feeling, depression and flashbacks. Music. Movies. Projects. None of those was enough because it was never about measuring up to a specific point. It was over and I had to get used to it.

Then I met someone else. New, inspiring and gentle. Someone understood me differently and opened the other parts. I knew he was right because whenever I began to think of my ex, he appeared in my mind instead. Like "Begin Again" by Taylor Swift. I started to like her after truly getting what the song meant. He was dustier, quieter and almost invisible until he talked about his passion. We had that kind of conversation for so many nights. About our dreams, our mission to conquer to world, how badly we wanted to be evil and how hungrily we longed for being turned into angels. Then we laughed because that sounded so cheesy and we were supposed to be cold. We could never be cold! Everything was warm and steamy like a delicious breakfast.

But you know what. Love isn't the necessary thing all the time.

At some points, we will have that kind of friend who is not our boyfriend but neither is a friend. Sometimes it's all about the need. So difficult to put in our emotion if there isn't any. So hard to leave him. He knows something about us. It's undeniable and strong. I've been there. I like it. No commitment, no promises. Fights only last for a couple of minutes. Arguments become a mind game. You exchange something with each other. Then goodnight and you go to sleep satisfied.

Does it sound pathetic? Because it only is when you're not open-minded enough. No one and no experience in life is pathetic. Being afraid creates hesitation and long-term fears. Let it go. Let your mind roam and your lips pulled aside slightly. It means you're smiling. 

Are you smiling now? 

Do you have that kind of friend? For a similar passion, same taste in movies, or lust. All are fine. All represent who we are.

I've shared something weird today, haven't I? I bet you didn't think this was coming. I've changed. I used to pick up some of the personality from everyone I knew. Now, I discover myself day by day, more and more. Authentically, sincerely and carelessly. I'd never have realized how untrue I was to myself if I hadn't stepped back and seen the big picture. I feel alive. Reborn like a phoenix. My breath is the tension of the muscles stretching and shrinking for something fresh. Is this lifestyle healthier? Will it last for good? I hope not. Because it will go up and down, inside out to maintain the original balance. All I know is that I'm excited for tomorrow. Who cares? We're all going to sleep anyway. 

PRET-A-PORTEA FT. DOOMS DAY

STORY OF MY BLUE BIG 'BRICK'

I’ve neglected my blog for quite a long time. I have many excuses for that, one of them is I got sick. I’ve been working with my laptop so much that my eyes started to ache. This morning, I saw neon rays in my eyes like I just saw the sun directly, even though I didn’t. Then it turned worse. I couldn’t concentrate at all and I slept on the table unconsciously for a while. My eyes are better now, as you’re reading what I’ve typed. I know I’m breaking the rules not resting, but not doing anything really sucks. When I stand up, I feel like there’s an orchestra in my head. I wish my family’s summer vacation would come sooner. I can’t wait for the beach and say goodbye to my laptop.

But above my aching eyes and head, many cool things have happened so far. Tonight I look back at my first day in this fashion industry and I feel blessed (maybe the rain gave me nostalgia). I’ve been so lucky to work for talented, hard-working and passionate people. One of them is editor, art director, and former fashion designer Ton Hieu Anh. He was my first big boss and now a good friend of mine. I took him as my brother but I wonder if he knows.

This picture of him is so cool. It's in black and white and he looks fit.

THE INSTANT CAMERA GUY

MY VERY FIRST MAGAZINE