Taste, Book, and Fashion

I can say we can almost judge people by their taste. But it should be a taste that is established based on the process of mind cultivation and knowledge. For example when I look at my self over the course of time, I see a clear development of taste, which now I presume also reflects my growth. In my early adolescence I read books from Sidney Sheldon to Karl May. I know, it was Sidney Sheldon and I thought I was cool already :-P But I would still say I was advanced than the rest of my friends who were still dwelling with their Enyd Blyton series, or with no books at all. I love Enyd, and as a matter of fact, I would perhaps still enjoy a Sidney Sheldon book, I just don’t buy it, if I like to indulge such a guilty pleasure, I decide that I would just borrow it.

Now, after a busy-with-social-life period of my life, this couple of years I have gone back to books. And when looking at my bookshelf now, I couldn’t help but wonder on how far my choices have evolved. And they do reflect a gradual-profound change inside. Let’s see, I have moved on from enjoying Amy Tan (years ago) to Arundhati Roy to Garcia Marquez, to Jhumpa Lahiri, and now still obsessed with finishing the complete series of Jane Austen’s novels. I have, in between, spiritual thingy books, most of them left unfinished, like Rumi and Bhagavad Gita (but hey, spirituality is understandably fluctuating, isn’t it) and now want so bad to taste a bit of JD Salinger (quite late, now I know, but still, I don’t want to get even older before I can get a grasp of Franny and Zooey). I also have Soseki Natsume and Virginia Woolf, which I couldn’t finish even after several trials, but not quite giving up yet. And among those which are not even started are Haruki Murakami and Kazuo Ishiguro. I can’t quite name all those books in the shelf, but that’s pretty much my collection now which I expect to stand to the test of time, and not wanted to be erased from the memory of having collected them.

I buy books like I bought clothes during the time I got obsessed with fashion not so long ago, with passion. I was ecstatic when I found a Toni Morrison and a Natsume Soseki in mint condition for only 35 thousand in a second hand bookshop in Bandung. Couple of weeks ago, I was having a weekend in Bandung and I did not, I repeat … DID NOT visit any single FO …horrayyyyy!! I can almost kiss myself for that. So instead of roaming around Dago or Riau for some pieces of Marc Jacob’s or Michael Kors’ knock-offs, I went to readinglights, where they sell imported magazines and second hand English books, and plus they have a shinsetsu-goodlooking-bookwormic SA, who passionately tried to look for another Soseki Natsume for me. He must have landed in his dream job for being that nice to customer.

When it comes to fashion, I don’t know how to describe my taste. I remember a dear one was saying at first he found my outfits were weird (note: I already used layering even before I went to Japan) but then he grew to like them. I do follow fashion trends to the degree of having it for knowledge purpose so that I know what to choose from. I dare to try something new and sometimes cross some lines and risk myself a faux pas (but never with regrets since at least I gain knowledge of whats-not to wear again). If I have to describe my taste in fashion in short, it’s like this (provided money is not a constraint): I would rather buy a beautiful one-of-a-kind Batik or fly to Hanoi to buy Vietnamese’ cheap but lively crafted hand bags than splurge on a premium designers’ dress or a branded bag with obnoxious monograms.