he's just waiting to die within the month
The above was part of what a friend said to me last night when we were chatting online.
Imagine waiting to die within such a short time-frame, knowing that unless a divine hand swoops in to breathe life and health back into you, it's curtains.
At times like this, the futility of my working long, long days at my present job seems all the more apparent. Just what is the long-term ROI in fashion publishing? Are the seconds, minutes and hours spent here gaining compound interest for eternity? Even in the here and now, it feels as if every evening I spend slogging at my desk or fast asleep at 9pm trying to recover from the previous week's slogging is time I didn't spend with precious people; time I'll never have again.
I need to make some adjustments so that even if death were to come tomorrow, I would be satisfied knowing that I lived today.
What is worthwhile?
A very popular British designer label launched its cotton shopper bag today. The bag is what I consider a marvellously intelligent marketing stunt. It's made of one the cheapest natural materials. The proprietary embroidery, spelling out an "environmental concern" message, plus the presence of a small logo gives the bearer an air of 1) ecological consciousness, which is the new cholesterol scare in terms of public attention; and 2) brand-display credibility, at a low price... something many Malaysians seem to crave.
By noon, we'd heard astounding first-person accounts of just how far things went out of control at the launch. Apparently, the queue went from the store entrance, over that whole floor of the mall, and apparently to the next floor. I still wonder how that's possible unless the queue reached the escalators and, finding nowhere else to go, the people at that point in the line decided to get some exercise while keeping their place, and marched on the spot up the down escalator. Then there was talk of mall security, riot police, rampaging shoppers offering black market prices on the spot to those lucky enough to leave with a bag, and stampeding aunties yelling about being deprived of their right to own such a statement piece of social consciousness.
I'd pre-ordered one of these bags because I thought they're cute and reasonably priced, and the perfect size to hold all the stuff I regularly lug around. Now I'm not so sure. I don't know if I want to be identified with something that inspires such ugly behaviour for all the wrong reasons. It's just a bag to me, but who knows what other connotations have been added to it by this morning's fiasco. Is this bag worthy to dangle off my arm?