“Hello, Cecilia Westberry”, said a clipped English accent. I pulled the telephone away from my ear momentarily and double checked what country code I had entered. Yes, +65. Welcome to the beauty establishment that used to occupy the third floor of Palais Renaissance, but sick of paying an extortionate Orchard rental, moved out to two HDB flats just behind Holland Village. Read More
Happy 2016 everyone!
I found myself reaching for the hand cream (OK, and the wine) quite a lot over Christmas and New Year. Having been in England for a while, my hands felt particularly reptilian.
I favour slathering the stuff on just before sleeping and I woke after night #1 to a pair of plumped up, youthful-looking mitts (instead of a crêpey hands with thin skin, covered in quite a few lines and one dastardly age spot).
I had snatched up the long-forgotten tube from the depths of a drawer, it was a few summers old (at least) but the results made me take a second look. Nuxe. A brand that is good but not that good. Read More
Looking good in a swimming costume has been an uphill struggle since returning from France where I kept the local boulangerie afloat financially through my croissant consumption.
I did, however, manage to do a stoke or two of work whilst on hols and wrote an article for Silver Kris (Singapore Airlines’ inflight mag) in between mouthfuls. All the more amusingly, the piece – which is out now in their September issue – was about the global trend towards fitness hotels; places you can stay in that offer in-room running machines, healthy salads and muay thai boxing. A far cry from salted butter and baguettes in Brittany, then. Read More
First off, what has been enveloping us here in Singapore shouldn’t be called haze. That makes it sound too friendly and unapologetic. How about smog? After all, that’s what this looks like (above).
I cling somewhat desperately to the notion that smog caused by land clearances fires must be less toxic than poisonous air belching out from factories in China, but I am not basing that on any solid facts. It does, however, make me feel better. If only a little. Read More
I am easily pleased when I am in France. The inaugural trip to the supermarket even elicits squeals of excitement: there is just something about mountains of fresh, local produce, espadrilles that only cost €5 and Marseille soap.
The excitement doesn’t end there though. I am equally well disposed towards a French pharmacy.