As far as I'm concerned, there's absolutely nothing wrong with owning multiple versions of an item. For example, I own at least four tees with the vintage styled, circular Converse logo; two black, almond-toe pumps (one in patent leather, one in suede); numerous long sleeved banker striped shirts; five stovepipe denim jeans in different gradations; and now, two Weejun leather loafers from GH Bass.

The oxblood I've had for quite sometime now, as evidenced by its increasingly worn sole. I tell you, that shoe can hold up for a full day of walking around the city and still look sharp for a late supper in the West Village. The black I just got because, well, if you have to have a Weejun, nothing's better than the classic Bass Penny Loafer style. 

Here's my thing: if you've got something that works for you, just stick with it. This is not to say that one shouldn't experiment. Or that one should flagrantly buy things just for the sake of buying. In fact, I'm known for throwing people a loop when they least expect it, and my wardrobe is anything but extravagant. Each piece I own is multipurpose and has a place within my daily rotation And yet, nothing ever seems boring. 

Or, I should say that nothing seems boring to me. 

And isn't that what really matters, that you feel pleased with your own look, no matter how repetitive it may be?

A designer whose work I admire, Meiling, has been wearing the same basic black ensembles for at least the last decade. She's been wearing all-black to the extent that when I first saw a picture from before her dark period, it almost seemed odd. That's the thing about wearing more of the same.

if you're sporting things that suit you, things that you genuinely love, then, nothing else really matters...

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Here's a sweet thing about having a baby: Once he or she arrives, you can have loads of fun getting acquainted with the little one you've been carrying inside you for months. An even sweeter thing about having a baby is when your mum comes to spend time with you and she can take over most baby related things for a few weeks.

And what's the sweetest?

Finally being able to indulge in all the goodies you've missed out on for nine months, especially those West Indian favourites brought directly from Trinidad like precious cargo stowed away in my mother's carry-on bag. 

Until I took that first bite of Kurma yesterday, I didn't realize how much I missed munching on Trini snacks. A fried and sugar-dipped Indian treat made from a delightfully spiced dough, Kurma is one of those things that, if made properly, can be a sweet taste of heaven or a saccharine, hardened mouthful of hell in stick form. 

Trust me on this one; I've heard of people breaking a tooth whilst getting down on rock-hard Kurma before. 

Luckily, the ones my mum brought came straight from Miss Cynthia via my sister's boyfriend - thanks Mels! A Grenadian lady living in Claxton Bay, Miss Cynthia can apparently make any kind of Indo-Trinidadian delicacy one could ever want. Her Kurma strikes the most perfect balance between a sugary coating, a gingery-sweet dough base with just enough dashes of cardamom and cinnamon, and the right amount of crunch per bite.

Grenadians... They do know their way around spices.

As for those curious brown bits of loveliness? Tamarind balls - or as one would say back home, TamBran balls - are my go-to snack whenever I'm pining away for something tarty and sweet to pass off as 'health food'. Don't judge me; tamarind helps with digestion, staves off Vitamin C deficiency, can ease a sore throat and is a super powerful anti-oxidant. 

See? Not all sweets are bad for you...

Especially when dipped in Speculoos cookie butter. Something about the nutmeg and ginger of that sinfully good spread just works with the spices and texture of Kurma. If you can get your hands on the two, smearing the former on the latter is highly, highly recommended. 

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As small and spartan as it is, I've never appreciated having a home office as much as I do now that I have a teeny, little Superguy in my life. Being able to work at my leisure - and in my jammies, no less - whilst we both recuperate from the excitement of delivery? 

In my books, that's worth every square foot of the shiniest, most spacious corner office one could ever get...

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