Mirror, mirror

Last Saturday he surprised me with the prettiest mirror and it was just what I wanted. :)

Sunday with Ms. Spade

When I moved out of my mother's house with only a fraction of my possessions, what I missed the most among my books was perhaps my copy of "Style" by the designer Kate Spade. Back when I was still in university, it was one of the books that I referenced often when I found myself in an impasse and the matters of fashion, interior decoration, movies, or watercolors were concerned. About two weeks ago, it was finally in my hands again and when I leafed through its pages again yesterday, I found that its wisdom is, now more than ever, useful and true. I would like to hand it down to my daughter someday.

The aphorism, which is true in fashion as in writing, graces the first page.

I fell in love with watercolors and their daintiness and simplicity when I first opened this book years ago.

The patterns in the book are so pretty, they brighten up everything from my simple black hairpins...

...to my charming new water glass (an Irish coffee mug!).

How to watch "To Catch a Thief"

1. Chill bottle of rose wine for an hour or so.

2. Prepare platter of Camembert cheese and crackers, and cute cups with cute straws.

3. Let Grace and Cary work their charm.

Movie Music

Whatever music I know, I knew from Audrey's movies. In college I traipsed around the campus to their age-old tune, soaking in the glamour and nostalgia of old Hollywood. All day and over and over again, I would listen to these songs and not tire. I could never quite memorize their words somehow, and so each time they played in my ear was like the very first time. Always, they were glorious.

"Fascination," from "Love in the Afternoon" (1957)

"Isn't It Romantic?" from "Sabrina" (1954)

"Moon River," from "Breakfast at Tiffany's" (1961)

These and "An Affair to Remember," "As Time Goes By," and "Hey Jude."

My girl Sam

My former student Sam sent me a Christmas present last week. When I tore open the wrapping paper, I could not help but squeal in glee. She had given me a "Pride and Prejudice" magnetic board and it was out of this world quirky. When I propped it on the floor alongside my books, it looked like it truly belonged there that I could not help but wonder why I took so long to own it.

The present was special most of all because it came from Sam, who was one of my sweetest and smartest students, and whose passion for writing and literature brought me so much joy last year. It was inevitably arduous and heart-wrenching, saying good bye to my students and seeing them off to college, and so when I tore open the present last week, what I saw first and foremost was her friendship, and it was beautiful.

My week in movies

We had bed weather every day last week that it was impossible to go out except to go to work and earn my rent. Instead I curled up in bed and watched movies, and what wonderful movies they are, too!

“Hitchcock.” Anthony Hopkins as the master of suspense is spot-on. The “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” bit is a delightfully quirky touch. I would have loved to see more of Scarlet Johansson, though, if only because she is just so handsome.

“Belle de Jour.” Catherine Deneuve is the most glamorous whore in the world. What I wouldn’t give to walk the streets of Paris in those outfits. And that hair!

“Anna Karenina.” “Anna Karenina’s” strongest suit is its beautiful and imaginative design. Joe Wright set the story onstage where the characters lived in full view of everyone and according to a script—a poetic and truthful portrayal of Russia in Tolstoy’s time. It is also, however, its weakest suit. The movie is at times too stylish and the actors’ portrayals too affected that the story’s heart is diluted.

“Bill Cunningham New York.” Bill Cunningham’s New York is most of all fashionable. It is almost too fashionable, truth be told, but nonetheless human and poignant.

“Marnie.” Marnie’s duplicity is charming more than it is disturbing. Tippi Hedren’s angel-like fragility is enchanting that I found myself rooting for the pathological liar and thief. No wonder the dashing Sean Connery falls madly in love with her. Throw in the elegant setting- the crystals and the gilded furniture in the Rutland mansion, the sleek hunting costumes of the aristocrats- and I couldn’t tear my eyes off the screen.

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” is the movie that I have seen the most number of times. My fixation on it is due to its marvelous frippery, yes, but only partly. Since I first saw it and for years now, every time I would feel down, I pop my DVD in. I empathize with Holly Golightly’s mean reds, you see. This afternoon, however, I empathized not with her sadness but with her happy ending. I feel like I’m ready to get a cat and even give it a name.

Bill's New York

Next to Paris, although immeasurably far behind, I would love to someday visit New York. The New York that I know used to be that of Eloise, the precocious poor little rich girl who has for her home the grand halls of the Plaza, until I came across Woody Allen’s “Manhattan” and my New York became forever his. Allen’s city is in black and white, like the old Hollywood films I adored, and set against the glorious score of “Rhapsody in Blue.” When the movie was over I decided that when I finally walk New York’s fabled streets, I will have Gershwin playing in my iPod. There is simply no other way to do it.

It is always best to experience a place, I suppose, through the eyes of someone who is over the moon in love with it. Perhaps this is what makes “Manhattan” irresistibly charming, most of all—that it is, more than anything else, a love story between a man and his city. It is more beautifully tragic, I remember thinking, when the character is in love not with another person but a place, which is infinitely greater than him and will only receive and not reciprocate his love. The man can only woo, ceaselessly and faithfully, and expect nothing in return.

Today I watched “Bill Cunningham New York,” which I have been hoping to see for several years now, since I knew of its release. The film documents the life of the fashion photographer who for more than half a century now spends his days on his bicycle taking pictures of the streets of New York and then publishes them in his legendary column in The New York Times. One scene shows his studio, a plain and impossibly small space further dwarfed by too many filing cabinets. Cunningham opens the drawers for the camera, and in them are all the rolls of film that he has used and photographs he has taken throughout the years—every single one.

I was astonished. Here is a man, now in his eighties, who has lived the same way everyday all his life. What constant, faithful love. He wakes up, goes on his bike, and patiently treads the streets of New York, lovingly encapsulating the life of the place. He longs to immortalize New York and its various tempers and singular beauty and carefully tucks it away in his drawers. He often does not accept payments for photography assignments, the documentary proceeds to show, for he works only for New York and the photographs. I wonder if he knows that long after he is gone, New York, which he cared not to slip through his fingers and away from him, will outlive him and go on and breathe on. Perhaps his beloved place need not be immortalized, after all, for it is already immortal. What a sad thought—to all your life love for nothing.

But then perhaps I thought, more than the city, it is himself that his photographs have made eternal. Bill Cunningham will forever be known as the man who was over the moon in love with New York. And when he is gone and they open his filing cabinets they will find not pictures of New York but the New York that was Bill’s. Inside his drawers, he and the place are one. Perhaps a man can marry the place he loves, after all.

My favorite New York movies:

1. Manhattan
2. Breakfast at Tiffany’s
3. New York Stories
4.  Everyone Says I Love You

Scenes from the Christmas break

My class' Christmas surprise: placards which read "We love Ms. Ng!" and lots of sweet messages

Christmas dinner at Brasserie Cicou

The best Christmas present ever: a poster of my favorite Woody Allen movie from 1979

My nephew's first Christmas

Cat-sitting for Cholo's sister's adorable pet

New Year's tea time at TWG

The pretty pink tea

Reading Hemingway's poignant biography

This man

We also watched Christmas movies, made a Christmas playlist, scoured the malls for gifts for family and friends, helped Earle buy an iPod, made Christmas happen for a not so little girl we love, lost a table tennis match to my siblings, and held a F.R.I.E.N.D.S. marathon. It was indeed the most wonderful time of the year.