August 24, 2008
Eons ago, I promised my secret correspondent, Dearest Phantom, to get all wax lyrical about a notebook. Yeah, you heard that right: a bloody notebook. Somewhere along the way, I got lost in transition and my memory did a flip-flop in my head – sending me to sleep dearly on my promises.
But, forgotten promises (just like the Ghost of Christmas Past) have a knack of haunting your conscience at the most bland time – just like tonight. Refused to be haunted by phantom of my old pledge, here I am, getting all wax lyrical about Moleskine: the legend of all notebooks.
When we first met, Moleskine and I, I haven’t a clue that my mispronunciation of his name had, somehow, turned whatever crush he had on me into a morbid distaste. He muttered under his breath, “What an ignorant, classless, unpolished woman this Elviza person is! She has not an inkling about legendary piece such as myself.”
To which I replied, “Who on earth, would spend so much money on mere pieces of paper?”
I was convinced that humankind has become something totally incomprehensible to my mediocre lifestyle. I promptly returned Mr. Moleskine back to its shelf. Whatever love I have for that unique shop named “How & When” at Bangsar Village had vanished into thin air with the revelation of the notebook’s exorbitant price tag. I was sure never to return to this cheating shop!
At this point, I have to be a tad pedantic, thus I sincerely apologise. The correct way to pronounce Moleskine is “mole-a-skeen-a”. However, mere mortals like us, say it the exact the way it is spelt. Really, who could blame us?
Admittedly, our first meeting was less than desirable, let alone be a moment to cherish for a lifetime.
I cursed the dead Christopher Marlowe as his lines kept flashing across my mind, “Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?” And I found myself, more and more drawn to Moleskine, with each passing minute of the hour; hours of the day. Just like love at first sight.
In my highly reclusive, pedantic (read: boring as hell!) life, I have committed the cardinal sin of falling in love with the legendary Mr. Moleskine.
All of Moleskine notebooks are handmade. Its pages are made of acid-free papers and thoroughly checked for defect before reaching the shelves. They are exquisitely designed, stylishly bound and thoughtfully strapped around for the owner’s convenience.
Legends in artistic pursuits, such as, Earnest Hemingway, Pablo Piccasso and Bruce Chatwin had written and sketched in their Moleskine. But that fact has little bearing to me, there is something about Moleskine that makes my pencil just sail smoothly across its pages and pages thereafter. Time has no meaning once I start writing on Moleskine. My very first Moleskine (a birthday present) is tainted with stains of coffee, scratched from top to bottom, but I still love the piece like a treasure of a lifetime.
In short, Moleskine is: the Manolo Blahnik of all shoes, the Ferrari of all cars, the Fendi of all handbags, the Oscar de la Renta of all wedding dresses, the Apple MacBook Air of all laptops. Get the picture?
And I fell in love with him.
A thousand times good night.