Winter is Coming

by Valerie on Tuesday, August 1, 2017


To fur or not to fur? About a year ago, I placed the highest bid on eBay for this vintage fur coat from the 1960s. It was something that I mulled over for a while. Going back and forth in my head, trying to psyche myself into taking the snipe. Upon winning the auction, I made a list of pros and cons trying to rationalize the purchase, still not convinced it was the right decision. It went something like:

-it’s secondhand/not creating more waste
-at $75, it’s considerably more affordable than paying premium for quality outerwear
-it’ll keep you warmer than the only other down coat in your wardrobe
-it speaks to your inner Margot Tenenbaum
-you are not Kanye

-can easily be mistaken for a modern coat
-thus perpetuating the real fur runway trend
-may trigger holier-than-thou confrontations from random vegans (is it safe to assume us non-vegans have all had one of those?)
-carrying around the constant fear of being blood bombed by PeTA enthusiast while wearing in public
-you are not Kanye

The coat, it had random tears along some of its pelts. The lining, discoloured and unraveling along the collar. And my god, the smell. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love salvaging these worn out vintage pieces so that they become whole again. Potential is such a beautiful word. Thrift stores are overrun with beautiful gems that just need a little polishing. With enough time, energy and love they could be like new again. Well, that and maybe a quick tumble with Dryel. What you’re left with is something that could last for 20 years to come. Something you could appreciate more because you put in the work for it. It seems like a reasonable alternative in a sea of mass-produced, sweatshop-made, fast fashion synthetics. Loved for a day and then thrown away.

But I also find myself asking why I’m still hesitant to pack it in my luggage during cold weather trips abroad. Or how come it feels more offensive to wear than say, to enjoy the taste of a medium rare steak or to prance around in a pair of leather boots—both are convictions that I can own up to. Still, I haven’t worked up enough courage yet to don something so decadent outside. So until then, it’s having to settle for a humble down and complain about how much I hate the cold, burrr.



by Valerie on Thursday, June 9, 2016

“It’s too predictable. I mean, there aren’t any surprises. Not a fan of math.”
“That’s why I like it. It’s like… perfection.”
“Perfection is overrated – I kinda like it when things are a mess.”
“Usually I find that the people who hate math are the ones who are bad at it.”

Possibility is my favourite word. It sits right up there with the creativity, humour, and incidentally the word favourite. That’s what the arts have to offer – endless, unfathomable, surprising possibility. The best thing about Festpac was being able to connect with and learn about different cultures – a hodgepodge of island people united in one diverse, crowded, sweaty pao fafa of a mess.






His first question is always, “where’s the beer?”




Joey used to be part of the visuals dept at my work. Now he’s doing what he really loves- creating kumyus and machetes for a living. Notice how real blacksmiths wear Nike’s.



“Turn your camera horizontal,” I told Reena.

“There’s a reason why I’m holding it this way – I want a full body shot, girl” she says then shoots me a mischievous grin.



Every girl and their mom was raving about the Rapa Nui boys. Reena and I were all, hellooo, Fijian boys! It was too dark to notice how much my cheeks flushed when he extended his hand out to get us dancing in the pit with them. “Oh dear,” I’m grooving backwards and shaking my head from side to side, “not enough alcohol for that.” Reena looks at me, eyes brimming with delight and says, “he smells like coconut oil!”



I scored a pair of iridescent shell earrings and offered the other half to her. They’re hand-carved by one of the Palau delegates. We made them into friendship earrings because fish are friends. (corny dad joke alert) Really delicious, anti-inflammatory friends. Yum!

And another gratuitous camera phone pic of us stuntin’ our new swag pieces







Browsing the art gallery before we stumbled into the theater



The gem that gleamed the brightest for me was New Zealand and their unmatched way of telling stories – a tradition that’s been passed on by Maoris from generation to generation. Lawrence Wharerau was the delegate chosen to showcase a few short films. He introduces and closes each short story with even shorter bits of insight about their culture. Like how in Two cars, One Night, it’s not uncommon for most Kiwi children to experience this – waiting in cars alongside other children while their parents are having a couple of drinks inside. Only to part ways at the end of the night, never seeing each other again.




One of his goals in coming out here was to encourage other islands to develop their own film industry as the New Zealand Film Commission has managed to to. Discovering them has opened up a widow to all these glorious new old films and I have to say – they are showing Hollywood what’s up! Representing Nga Taonga Sound and Vision (New Zealand’s national auiovisual archive), he notes that these shorts are what help independent film makers earn credit and support for future feature films. Although I could argue that short films can be equally impactful if not more so than any full length movie. Director of Two Cars, One Night Taika Waititi can attest,

“There are a few moments in childhood that have a lasting impact. Not because they change the course of your life, or because they arrive with any great fanfare, in fact quite the opposite. Those are moments where an unexpected joy is found in the everyday, a moment of beauty in the ordinary.”

It was as if watching these short films was on a par with listening to a narrative song from Sufjan Stevens or reading an Amy Hempel novella (but that’s an entire conversation of its own). In Run, director Mark Albiston shows us the dynamic relationship between a brother and sister and my heart immediately aches with recognition.



“One small moment of beauty, happiness, or love, lives longer in the memory than a lifetime of sorrow,” Waititi goes on.

Just like in minimalism – a good story has you laughing one minute and crying the next. And that’s exactly what these stories do – they disarm you into feeling. Highlighting the victories of our everyday nuances. So happy and grateful to have lived them, despite knowing how bittersweet an ending will have to come.

You know, I always maintained an A- in math. As it turns out, humanities were just my favourite subjects.

Jasmine + Fernan

by Valerie on Tuesday, July 15, 2014


You know, when I met Jazzy it was my first day at the big, bad galleria. I remember walking into the cafeteria and it felt like high school all over again. Very clique-y with all the ate’s sharing their food along the corner booths. The jocks and bodybuilders were watching the game on t.v.. The cool kids always sat outside in the smoking section. I remember not knowing anybody at all – let alone where to sit. And from behind Jaz was like,

“Val, come sit here with me.”

And I remember thinking, whoa, how does she know my name? And maybe feeling a little embarrassed that I didn’t know hers yet. But I was like,

“ok, I’m just gonna go grab my food.”

On my way back from the refrigerator I find her pushing our two tables together to make we sat THISCLOSE to each other and how warm and fuzzy it made me feel after watching her do that.

She’d always extend the invitation to go running along Tumon after work so we don’t get stuck in rush hour traffic. Or she’ll remember what your favourite fragrance is and slip you a bottle from her allowance poorly wrapped in old newspaper in the locker room. But anyway, that’s just a testament to the kind of thoughtful character Jazzy has. People always talk about the elusive heart of gold, but Jazzy with her little gestures gives you a real glimpse of it.

Congrats to Jazzy and Fernan! We wish you guys all the love in the world, even though it was inside of you from the start.

What Happened to You?

by Valerie on Friday, November 1, 2013

I’m not finished.

Miss Pacificana 2012

by Valerie on Wednesday, December 19, 2012

This one night we are all hanging in my living room. I tell her she would be the perfect contestant on RuPaul’s Drag Race because Reena asks the most original questions.

She says, “If you ever get preggars, can I be your kid’s ninona?”

I say, “What’s a ninona?”

“A nino and a nina,” she says.

ariba mexico


And the readings — just listen to what she has to say if I fail to show up to her last invite.

“Did you bring the aloe vera?”

“Aloe vera?” I’m confused. “For what?”

She gives me a sharp stare and says, “for my 3rd degree burns.”

backstage passes


fabulous hair days

ai chihuahua

It’s ok, booboo. You’re still a winner in my heart.

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