But a year after I started in the magazine business, I was finally sent on a proper press trip. Boy, I was so excited. It was for Nine West – we got to interview the Creative Director of Fred Allard. The presentation was set up in French Window at IFC with the fall/winter 2011 collection of shoes, accessories and ready-to-wear. With the sunlight flooding in through and a small press entourage, it was most possibly the best first work trip I could ever have. Fred was simply open and it felt like he was more like a friend than the creative director of a huge American shoe company. He teased me about my socks (yes, I was wearing my hi-tops instead of pretty shoes) and walked us personally through the entire collection. He spoke about Karen Elson (who was doing a collaboration with Nine West Vintage America) and how she was a muse. Can you imagine? Now I have like a one degree separation from a supermodel! (Like I “know” Fred and he is pals with Karen right, right?)

Meeting Fred was definitely the highlight of the trip but there were other highlights too. Having my very first meal at a three star Michelin restaurant, Caprice at Four Seasons Hotel. I’m no atas foodie, food is yummy or not yummy to me, but if I have to write a food snippet, I would take far too long. But I have to say, it was the best sort of shepherd’s pie I ever had and wondrous desserts (think petit fours and the most delectable to look at bonbons). Throw in a private room that overlooked the harbour and attentive waiters delivering the most delicious little castles of carbohydrates (read: bread). I just about died of happiness.

And that one glorious night in the Peninsula Hotel. The last time I slept alone, not counting being home alone, was back in hall (yes Eusoff, I mean you). So to see such awfully high ceilings, and a gorgeous bathroom, a little hallway before you enter the actual suite and such a huge fluffy bed all to myself, I felt like Eloise in the Plaza hotel or maybe just very grown up for once.

A little digression – since then I’ve been on another press trip (and more about that later) but the best thing about travelling for work is having the peace and quiet for just a few days is just delectable.

I’m all for cheap thrills and of course one night in such a luxury hotel was enough to put me on cloud nine for quite awhile, along with more than one visit to H&M, a wonderful Sonia by Sonia Rykiel discount buy (I love you stripes) and my first thrift store purchases (I love you too, high waisted skirts and ahma pants) that even as I pulled along my Stella for Lesportsac rollie (bulging at the seams), all due to the fore-mentioned buys on the 20 minute walk to Missy Teo’s workplace (DFS spilling with mainlanders) and arrived at my destination, swimming in sweat, I was still walking on air.

Missy Teo put me up for a night at her bachelorette pad that was very near St Francis Yard where the Monocle store and other cool shops were. She took me out to dinner to Soho, brought me to Maple (heh) and was kind to me for 2 days (she didn’t make me clean her house).

I finally had the opportunity to move around by myself. I think I’m the only person who will get lost in Hong Kong but I still managed to get to my destinations by myself without losing any limbs. I went into a coffee house and I ordered a sandwich without knowing any Cantonese with the proprietor speaking to me in Cantonese as though I was a retard. The next time I will make sure I get my instant noodles and luncheon meat – I go to what is a gourmet city and I just want to eat instant noodles, so sue me. Just trotting around a foreign town where everyone knows where they are going to while I took many pictures of a burger joint agreed with me greatly. I guess this is the reason by people love to travel alone. For someone who got lost walking to the Bart station in San Francisco – I clearly remember Pillay telling me to walk straight and turn one left – this is a great feat.

I’m terribly privileged to be able to travel like this for work (although my colleagues have been to Tokyo and Sweden and on more frequent trips for longer – OK we are not comparing here, not trying to anyway). This is exactly how I imagined footloose and fancy free to be.

Indian tennis player marries a Pakistan cricket player. This is called a peace treaty.

I am not coping well in this new beginning. Maybe with the departure of youthful foolishness, I feel that every single thing I do that is not up to par will have very serious consequences.

The road ahead is hard. As Karen Carpenter sang, ‘We only just begun, to live. White lace and promises, a kiss for luck and we’ll on our way..’. All typed out from memory. Everyone plays this song at their wedding. But this is apt for the beginning of my new ‘career’. Except no white lace but hard hard work. The learning curve is a 90 degree straight learning vertical curve. When they throw you in, you trap (lazy to find whether correct spelling) water. When the waves go above you, you smile and hold your breath. Hopefully you can stay afloat. If not, the other option is drowning. But honey, drowning is a horrible way to go.

There is a probation. I have never been under probation. Maybe they will find out I am an imposter and toss me out after three months.

The madness continues. Her Royal Highness decreed I iron my T-shirts today. As I wondered whether I should invest in a steamer (easier since I have been trained by work) to ‘iron’ my clothes, I cannot wait for the day when my T-shirts can just be not ironed. Though of course Debbie Harry looks much better ironed flat, I will try to live with abit of a crumpled flair.

I have a crick in my neck. Massive migrane. Tension headache some people (The Laney) calls it. I started watching another Ella show with Wu Chun and Jiro Wang. Ella rocks. I think I am going through proper teeny boppy puberty right now.

Sometimes, the closer you are to the sun, the harder you fall when you do not reach your goal. Cue: silly boy with wax wings who flew to close to the sun. When faced with the girls so much younger and so much more go getting and competitive than me, I feel childish and extremely old at the same time. Sometimes I do not think I take it seriously and seem to have not prepared enough. But preparation will not put me in competition with those girls who have been creative all their lives, who have a Mac for artistic reasons instead of just surfing the net and various bo liao stuff. I want it as bad as the other girls maybe more because my time is running out faster than theirs. Apart from being willing to go on my knees, I have no idea how to go about standing out from the rest.

All the years of working in the bee hive seem to have vanished into the mist, I absolutely cannot recall how it was like to be a employed worker bee. I feel like the intern I was five years ago when Auntie Shufang secured her first job. I am shy, uncertain and thin skinned again. I stutter and revert back to uncertainty. Tonight, I finally got the courage to view that silly less than 10 second video clip that I had to do for them. I looked like the cartoon person that Jackie says I am. I move with jerks and constantly. But that is the way I am, as idiotic as I look.

I tried on the toga dress Siew Lu says is too long for her. It is jersey and heavy and falls nicely over my knees. Part of old age is gravitating towards longer dresses. As I twirled around in it and wondered whether to wear it for the Friday before Chinese New Year, my mother being wet blanket says it is too fancy and weird for Ahma’s house. Tomorrow is the reunion dinner instead of Saturday. My Ahma is less conservative than my mother, really how is that possible but it is. But maybe I will not wear the dress after all. Strapless bras make me uncomfortable and I have not taken the dress out for a test run for pit stains.

Cotton On is fabulous for cheapie buys. They are affordable with their normal prices but I live for their sales. Like could it get any cheaper? Case in point, cotton shorts for sleeping in. The sign said $10 which was very agreeable until I noticed the orange sticker that said $5. Totally of course going to get it. Then when I was at the cashier very pleased with my almost buy, the boy at the counter was ‘If you buy a second one, it is half price.’ I could not hide my disbelief. ‘You mean the second one will be $2.50?’ He did not blink his eyes. ‘Yes if it’s the same.’ Hell yeah. So that is how I walked away with two grey cotton shorts, both for $7.50. Amazing cheapie-ness.

After this transpired, I went to cut my hair for $10 at EC House. I know, it is like I am reverting to when I was in secondary school and JC and I cut my hair at this place in the housing estate behind Holland Village for Seven bucks. Now I go to this place near Cambridge Market when a Taiwanese boy band look-a-like gives me hair cuts for $14. Apart from the language barrier, though this is greatly aided with the help of magazine pictures and my mother translating (when it comes to descriptions, my Mandarin just fails me as it did during my AO levels, hence that F9), he is pretty great. However, even the cheapest hair places have to increase their prices before Chinese New Year and because I am cheap due to above mentioned unemployment, I refused to pay the hike in prices to have my lovely boy band hairstylist to trim my hair and headed to the ten dollar hair cuts establishment. It was really great though it was longer than the advertised ten minutes. Except for the exposed feeling I had as I had my hair cut whilst people were walking along side the shop very near me. It was disconcerting.

Speaking of which, I had the Popcorn chicken Snackers meal at KFC four times since last week for ‘lunch’. It is $2.90. I feel very happy after eating it every time.

Won’t you come along to be cheap with me?

Whenever I see the piles of clothes lying there, I feel the bile coming up my throat. I have to keep on checking the pricetag to see whether I can afford to pay for it.

I have read and watched enough about interns to be prepared for my internship. Or so I thought. I know it ain’t all like The Hills (where Whitney and L.C. just do nothing but chat at their iMacs and make faces). The Teen Vogue interns blog about their internships and flats are an essential on their work outfit lists. Which makes sense. But pray not to be like The Devil Wears Prada which I watched the movie but did not read the book.

Loaning and returning clothes. Walking up and down town with heavy heavy bags. That is how clothes in the shops make their ways onto the pages of magazines. As much as samples do get sent to the editor to be featured in the magazine, most of the time, I have to make my rounds to see what the tiny shops at Far East and Haji Lane have to offer for a shoe string. Style is subjective and sometimes what I bring back may not be what the boss is looking for. That is where the bags of clothes come in. You have to look through every single rack to make sure you do not miss anything. That is what I have trouble with because when I do my own shopping, whatever jumps out at me from the hanging clothes is what I pick out. But when you are desperate and there are no _______ (insert trend here) pieces that you have found and it is close to five o’clock, I have to start digging.

But of course you suddenly find all these totally you clothes that are just there ripe for the picking and your savings seem to not be able to tide you through ‘unemployment’ as long as you thought it would.