OLIVIA SOH

I was always afraid of going on stage for my own wedding. In my head, I had no idea what I was supposed to do — other than smile, stand still, and pose for the camera. Nope, that wasn’t my intention or the purpose of having dinner with everyone. Especially when not everyone knows one another, I wanted to seize the time to truly be present with everyone.

I’ve attended many friends’ weddings before, and every time, it was beautiful. I cried quietly in my heart, felt genuinely happy for them, and had so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to hug them properly, to talk, to really share the moment with them. But the usual flow was always the same: congratulate the newlyweds, take a photo (not even a selfie), exchange wishes, and then be seated for dinner.

That made me realise something.

I didn’t want my dinner to feel like that — and this was my tea ceremony dinner. It should be fun. At least, chill. I didn’t want a hotel ballroom or a big, formal setting. I wanted an intimate dinner with the people closest to me — where I could talk to anyone I wanted, hug anyone I loved, and walk around freely whenever I felt like it.

So I decided to plan the dinner myself.

It felt huge to me. There were many things to think about, and honestly, it wasn’t easy. Looking back now, it was deeply memorable.

Sleepless nights — trust me.

People usually do head-to-toe makeovers for their wedding. Me? I didn’t even have time to do my lashes, brows, or whatever else people usually do. Everything was last minute, lol.

Nails? Nope. No time for that either.

I actually planned two outfits for that night, and you know what? I wore slippers — or went barefoot — most of the time. It was just easier for me to move around smoothly.

And you know what? All the imperfections felt perfect to me.

We’re always taught to strive for perfection. But sometimes, in moments like this, imperfection is what allows us to breathe, to move, to be ourselves.

It wasn’t about being perfect.

It was about being present — sharing real conversations, real hugs, and real moments with the people who mattered most.

And that, to me, made it everything I hoped my wedding would be.

╰┈➤

I planned everything from A to Z.

From the invitation card layout, to deciding what kind of playlist should be playing that night — every detail came from my own hands (and many late nights).

We had a full white canopy, soft chandeliers hanging above with dim, warm light. Brown wooden chairs lined the tables, paired with green and white floral arrangements — simple, calm, and exactly how I imagined it. Nothing loud, nothing overdone. Just enough to feel warm and welcoming.

It wasn’t about impressing anyone. It was about creating a space where people could sit comfortably, talk freely, and feel at home. That's my intention.

Looking at it now, the setting reflected everything I wanted the dinner to be — intimate, unpretentious, and full of quiet moments in between conversations.

I’ve always been afraid of having a “流水线” wedding video — the kind that looks the same at every dinner, just played on repeat. That wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted something unique, something fun, something with personality.

I also hate the idea of waking up early — which is exactly why I skipped the 兄弟姐妹团 and the gate-crashing session (the traditional Chinese wedding games).

No early alarms. No rushed schedules. No performing first thing in the morning.

I chose sleep. And honestly? No regrets.

Sometimes, doing less is the best decision.

More importantly, I wanted the vibe to feel right. I wanted people whose aesthetic, energy, and way of seeing things were on the same page as mine. People who could capture not just how the night looked, but how it felt.

Not staged. Not forced. 

Next, this part is very me. I think. A bit chaotic.

Because I didn’t really have any manpower that night, a few things were missed — and thinking back now, it’s actually quite funny.

For example, the table seating.

Most people didn’t even realise there was a seating arrangement, so the seating cards ended up being more decorative than functional. I had actually put some thought into it — I even grouped friends who were single and available together, hoping they might get a chance to talk, connect, or at least make a new friend.

I liked the idea of my friends meeting one another, of unfamiliar faces slowly becoming mutual friends over dinner.

Another thing I missed — if you’ve read my blog and didn’t bring anything home, I’m so sorry. That one’s on me.

You were absolutely welcome to pick your favourite St Dalfour mini jam, take a flower, or grab some imported chocolates to bring home. I just forgot to announce it properly. Thankfully, I managed to verbally remind some of you during the night — whenever it crossed my mind — so my house wouldn’t end up completely overwhelmed with real flowers.

A little messy. A little imperfect.

But somehow, very on brand for me.

Well. I don't know what to continue. Let me digest more and come up with a 2025 closing post 

˚˖𓍢🌷✧˚.🎀⋆

ciao! xx 

I decided to write a review on this book I recently read, like not long ago, 'Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop'. I picked up this book (on my kindle) in a right timing. You know, some books just find you at the right time, right when you need them. Thanks to my flexi workload, I finished the book in just 3 days. I spent 5 hours per day to read it. The book wrapped me in a very heartwarming and comforting.

At first, I did find the start of the book a bit stilted and kind of wondered what the point was, but in retrospect it is setting the scene before we get into the characters’ stories. The latter half is more emotional and ‘alive’ as it all comes together. It’s a sweet story with depth that increases over time. What stood out most for me, however, was the way the characters interact. The book revolves around a diverse group of individuals – a barista, a coffee roaster, and a range of customers – all navigating their own challenges.  All of them deal with very human, very common and relatable life problems. After all, i think i love that the book gives me the perspectives of so many generations, the outlook of older like gen z, boomers and also millennial. 

The conversations between these characters felt so real, almost like overhearing a chat in a cozy café. Their voices spoke of the very issues we all deal with, making it easy to connect with them. <3 

There’s also a part in the story where the protagonist has to figure out how to keep an independent bookstore afloat in a small, tight-knit neighborhood. I found myself completely absorbed in her journey of survival, and as she brainstormed ways to make money and keep the shop running, I started to think, “I’m not sure I’m cut out to own a bookstore.” But it’s so much more than that. There’s a particularly poignant moment when a group of people expresses their desire to open a bookstore, and the shopkeeper warns them that they shouldn’t expect to make any money – they might even lose it. This, to me, was a sharp commentary on the capitalist world we live in. We are often told we must work tirelessly, sacrifice time for our hobbies, and face the harsh reality that some dreams might not be as financially rewarding as we hope.

In today’s society, where the pressure to succeed financially is so intense, it’s easy to forget that not everything is about money. That’s where the book shines – while it acknowledges the struggle for financial sustainability, it also encourages following your passion. The protagonist’s journey wasn’t about getting rich; it was about doing something that felt right, even if the monetary rewards were low. And in that way, the book offers a balance of realism and hope.

But the book also encouraging like if this is your dream, go ahead and do it (just keep monetary expectation low)

My favorite scene in this book:

My absolute favorite scene in the book comes toward the end when Yeongju, the independent bookstore owner, explains why she doesn’t stock bestsellers. To her, bestsellers represent a society that has stopped reading, a society that is only interested in what is popular rather than what is meaningful. This struck me deeply because, in a world dominated by trends, it’s easy to forget the value of books that might not be on the bestseller lists but hold timeless wisdom or offer perspectives we don't often hear.

Minjun, the barista in the book, also undergoes a fascinating transformation. He begins his journey with a simple goal – to be good at his job. But as time passes, his dedication to perfecting the art of coffee-making evolves. He finds passion in a seemingly mundane task, and this mirrors my own journey with kefir. What started as a simple experiment grew into something I genuinely care about. This transformation, though different in its context, felt incredibly relatable. 

The book also touches on a major life lesson: it’s not as simple as just doing what you love and expecting happiness to follow.

 Life, especially when it comes to passion projects and entrepreneurship, is full of challenges, hard work, and sacrifices. The independent bookstore owner’s struggles illustrate this truth beautifully – there’s no guaranteed success, no roadmap to follow, and no guarantee of happiness. But it’s the pursuit of something meaningful that makes it all worthwhile.

Even though I may not be a traditional bookworm, I’ve always loved reading for the simple reason that books open up worlds I can’t physically visit and experiences I can’t personally have. Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop offered just that – a beautiful escape into a world that, though fictional, felt like home.

There were so many wonderful quotes in this book, was highlighting so many pages. So here is a collection of my favorite ones from the book.