London Uniform

Because I keep getting asked, thought I'd just share.  To live with very little in terms of clothing, or packing extremely light, is simple.  I create, a uniform.

London requires a different uniform than say, Los Angeles or Singapore.  Certain things cross continents.  Number of jeans in my closet both in Singapore and London?  Two- one hanging within, one hanging off my hips.  Number of bras?  Two.  Number of white cotton tops?  Number of black cotton tops?  Two and two.  Number of scarves?  One.

In the Singapore closet, I've left behind something like eight printed dresses.  Because of the nature of my work, often, one of these dresses will do added duty as a dance costume.

photo credit-  Esplanade Theatres on the Bay, Andante solo.  Dress-  Marc by Marc Jacobs with lining re-cut to allow legs to kick up.

photo credit-  Ethos Books, 'A' is for Achar, 'L' is for Love book launch & performance.  Dress- Zara, worn over pants.

photo credit-  Ethos Books, 'A' is for Achar, 'L' is for Love, book launch & performance.  Sarong and kebaya from a tailor in Joo Chiat, worn with platform sandals that have since been given away.

At graduate school, someone kindly said that I was always dressed "so cutely" and that my wardrobe was "amazing".  I whispered back- Actually I have very few things, I just use them over and over again.  (Her shock was palpable and made me laugh!)

photo credit- cousin S, same sarong and kebaya worn with same sandals (unseen) to Popo's birthday celebrations :)

photo credit-  Ethos Books, 'A' is for Achar, 'L' is for Love book launch.  DVF-to-the-rescue blouse.

The need to have little I suspect, stems from my parents divorcing.  There were a lot of tears that morning.  My brother and I packed as much as we realistically could, and left our home forever.

photo credit-  The Straits Times, (L) same DVF blouse worn for an interview, (R) 1998 Versus dress worn at another interview and resurrected multiple times on stage.

 The older I get, the more defined my aesthetic, and who I am as a person/artist become.  So recycling outfits gets easier and easier, and thankfully, I don't make as many tragic buys/wasteful decisions as before.

photo credit-  Ethos Books, CNY 2013 dress recycled for work, at Book 2 Launch

The main considerations for my London-dressing lie in the unpredictable weather, the reality of public transportation, and that I'm always off on some train journey.

Hence...

A pair of well-made tall boots are essential.  They keep my legs warm, cover unsavoury bits, offer comfort on the train, off the train, in rural and urban parts.  They anchor all looks, prevent any outfit from sliding into sloppy-dom.  During more vulnerable moments (like riding a train with a drunk lunatic last Sunday/stuck with a locksmith at an unearthly hour last Thursday) offer, Authority.

There.  With Authority.  

A raincoat (groan) is also part of my London uniform.  

This is just so not LA, nor Singapore.  Initially I balked at getting one.  But my husband worries easily about me.

Wear black, wear white, wear jeans.  Splurge on sturdy shoes, strap purse to torso, throw in some color around the neck or at the feet.

Meow.  Flats for upcoming plane ride...

Do laundry, find a reliable dry-cleaner, remember keys, remember to speed walk, and disarm bad service with a smile and an American accent.  To complete the uniform?  Tote precious dog in complimentary colors.