The ‘meh’ emoji is all-encompassing, and wholly made for this time of year. You know the one, with the mouth that looks like that pen-mark you make when you try out pens in Muji, that dash that just could not care less about being straight.

– this one.

Got your tree up yet? – meh. Time for some Mariah Carey? – meeehhhh. Sent out all your gifts? –meh (shiiiiiiiiiit?!). As usual, my impeccable timing have left me soiling my pants a little – what with a pile of gifts looking bored in a cold corner in the office, and my sheer repulsion for the local post-office taking physical shape and casting sarcastic (?), sticky webs over the whole thing. It doesn’t help that I’ve donated the last of our blue IKEA bags in the last charity shop round, which means WHAT DOES ONE USE TO TRANSPORT LARGE AMOUNTS OF SMALL ODD-SHAPED BITS AT ONE GO?

Coach x Basemen cosmetic pouches, Lipstick – Bobbi Brown

Come to think of it, I may in fact employ the same approach to gift-sending as to taxes: painfully last minute, and usually involving some form of begging/wailing in a public place. Hey Carey, all I want for Christmas is some TaskRabbit coupons so that my mother doesn’t write me out of her will all over again. (It is however, becoming a bit of an endearing annual tradition)

As acting ambassador, I thought I’d call in some Coach x Baseman bits that might spark some Coach gift ideas if you’re still stuck. I’m especially pining for the yellow lipstick case, just stuff some tampons in it and stun the giftee with your infallible resourcefulness.

In collaboration with Coach as the season’s digital ambassador.

Coat – Versus by Versace. Flares – Frame Denim. Bag – Coach ‘Crosby’ patchwork. Scarf – Coach x Baseman square Turtleneck – Lands’End

Pullover & trackpant – Charlie May. Watch – Shinola ‘Runwell’.

art direction SHINI PARK photography & styling TEAM PARK & CUBE in collaboration with Shinola

I feel like this is one topic that has been discussed numerous times before in passing, but I still wonder whether I am perhaps… a dude? Evidence suggests that I, in fact, may be a 13-year old boy, what with the lack of chesticulars and fondness to playing with matches. But on some days I find myself slouched in the pink couch guzzling down some beer or strawberry cider or another, plotting the car I should decorate my mid-life crisis with and ask myself what AM I? A pastel-purple Jaguar (they’re going to have to mix a heck load of white, red and blue at the garage) is the answer so far, although the thought of a velvet-wrapped Porsche is also pretty enticing – solely for the reason of baffling/pissing off society. Sure, this probably is an age-old depiction of ‘man’, and my feminist assistant Simon, will weep silently in a corner in the office once he reads this (#genderequality, you guys) but hey – you tell me if these evidences say ‘lady’ anywhere.

I’m getting to a point, I promise.

Now, I had not known of Shinola (pronounced ‘shy-no-la’, originating from ‘shoe-shine’) until a few months back, during a routine stalking of fine gentlemen on the intranets (you know, Monday morning thing) I came across the brand’s website. A cursory session of digging of the wonder-emporium of leather goods later, decided it was ALL made for me: The leather footballs, stationery, watches with graphically sound (and when I say sound I mean HANDSOME) faces, and MY GOODNESS the bicycles, expertly assembled and shipped from Detroit, which is where the brand originates from. They boast a strong American heritage, in value and history, and all designs are inspired by the city’s industrial past.

iPad cover, notebook, watch – Shinola.

Bicycle – Shinola ‘Bixby’

LEFT: Top – Muji. Trousers – ASOS. RIGHT: Turtleneck – Lands’End. Trousers – ASOS. Watch – Shinola ‘Runwell’.

I wanted to be that silently brilliant man that took pride in his profession, who treated his possessions with firm-yet-unobsessive care, and owned a fine watch because his time was currency itself. I wanted to set the boob jokes/box of matches aside, change out of that beer-stained shirt and write stories in beautifully bound stationery; roll my sleeves up and take the bicycle to a neighbourhood uncharted before – Detroit, perhaps.

So, this is what a brand with solid value system does to a consumer: it makes a man out of a boy. Add a dose of expert craftsmanship and healthy influence to a socio-economically struggling city… how many times do I have to say, great stories are infectious?

Here is a digitorial, in efforts to emulate the Shinola ‘man’, a rite of sorts, I suppose.

Bomber – Coach. Top – Dagmar. Backpack – Shinola. Skirt – Charlie May.

Watches – Shinola ‘Runwell’

Jacket – Filippa K. Utility trousers – ASOS. Shoes – Acne ‘Jensen’. Bicycle – Shinola ‘Bixby’

Necklace – Galanterie de Cartier. Dress – Jonathan Simkhai

It’s not a secret that we – namely Millenials, the ‘Y’ or Peter Pan generation – have a thirst for summaries, a Cliff’s Notes version of unashamedly long, winding, heart-breaking-and-waking stories with valiant heroes and fearless heroines. How many times has J.K Rowling lifted and dropped our hearts with every page turn? Heck, now it’s all about 140-character notes and #nofilter squares that somehow boil down to a point when squinted hard enough, and those blasted abbreviations, because there’s no time at all to LOL IRL since YOLO, apparently. So you’ll agree, stories are worth its weight in gold, or diamonds.

London saw, in its final week of November, a hailstorm of leaves that left the city’s canopies bare and vulnerable to the elements. And snow it did, in the form of a Le Diamant, a private exhibition at Philips displaying rare, diamond-clad treasures from the Cartier archive as part of its travelling Tradition collection and the new art-deco inspired range Galanterie de Cartier. It was by sheer chance that we caught the spectacle.

LOVE Bracelet, Pink and white gold diamonds

If love is fleeting, haphazard and possibly a string of coincidences, according to Kundera (The Unbearable lightness of being, 1984), then this must be love – this implausible set of accidents that have led for the Galanterie de Cartier necklace to be looped around my neck, and thus being a part of the Cartier story, albeit for a fleeting moment.

The Pur Absolu necklace worn by Karen Elson in the dazzling Christmas campaign, along with the Tradition collection, will be on sale in Cartier New Bond Street boutique for a month.

Above: Core range in diamonds. Left: Necklace – Galanterie de Cartier. Dress – Jonathan Simkhai

Gawping is encouraged in Mauritius, and best done airborne in the final quarter of hour of the eleven something from London Gatwick. The first quarter is uneventful, as usual. Like clockwork, I nod off to gentle groans of the aircraft as it laboriously tears through soggy rainclouds, the occasional turbulence is but a nudging into a more permanent sleeping position. Throw in a few grainy movies in between and it’s the typical long-haul – I’ve never found it difficult to idle time away in planes anyway. Then it happens, local time 6AM, the sun splits between the blinds as the captain announces our descent into Mauritian domain, circling the South-Eastern coast, and gone are the blanket-sheathed human-cocoons (aka Londoners). Every passenger cranes their necks towards the nearest window, gawping. A breath-taking view of an infinite blue pans out across the cabin, and for some lucky few behind the left wing, a dazzling view of the milky atoll, swirling with under-water dunes, that give way to a rippling green island mottled with sugar cane farms and fishing villages.

Royal Palm Mauritius, a Beachcomber that boasts six stars, both on paper and from the moment of arrival – is a 40 minute air-conditioned, cold-towelled, ABBA (from the Creole-speaking radio)-infused ride from the airport. We weave North, through hills and crossroads, skimming the feet of some great mountains (more craning and gawping) with tropical vegetation sprawling at the hem, and wonder if a visit to Jurassic World is in the itinerary. At just a stone throw from the coastal village of Grand Baie, the hotel comes into view – heavily veiled by coconut palms and guarded by uniformed staff. Phew, no velociraptors are going to find us here.

Hat – Melissa Odabash. Dress – Topshop Unique (similar).

Check-in is breezy, just long enough to notice that the lobby smells of sun-warmed nutmeg and coconut lotion. We decide to do breakfast first, showers can wait. Overlooking the glassy cerulean water with hazy eyes, I order eggs at La Brezza: ‘Over easy, with a sprinkle of garlic pepper – with a serving of some smoked salmon. And a glass of apple, carrot and ginger smoothie, please, EXTRA fiery’ . A smiley waiter named Ritesh takes down my order and in the following five days, remembers my preference. The same way the housekeeping staff turn down my sheets during the day as my tendency to napping indoors become apparent, and a random-yet-justified appearance of a serrated knife in the room one afternoon after having bludgeoned the five yellow passion fruits with the sharper end of my eyelash curler on the first day. So this is what six-star service means (!)

Lingerie – Gooseberry Intimates

The hotel isn’t much to figure out, a haven for those who like it simple: all 69 (newly renovated) suites are treated to a sea view, one central corridor, and sports & spa facilities in the back where it’s cooler, water sports at the beach front where it’s wetter…  Rather, it’s one’s job to be creative (or incredibly lazy) with the same 24 hours that is usually dissected with zeal back at home. Is it an early morning yoga session at the spa, followed by a flop down on the powder-soft beach and lull into a delicious, woozy half-sleep until the smell of pasta reaches your nose? Or giving water-ski a go? You’re on Mauritian hours, nothing but your own whim can command.

Park & Cube was a guest of Royal Palm Mauritius, all views and opinions are my own.

Skincare – Dolce & Gabbana. Cleanser – Creme de la Mer. Sun screen – Clinique.

Top & Bottom – Next.

PJ’s – Gooseberry Intimates