Twinkle By Wenlan

Instead of my regular get away in March-April, this year I made a trip to Taipei and Tokyo in July. The trip bore multiple purposes - to visit my parents, to do my first ever trunk show in my hometown Taipei and to visit my Japan showroom for future development.  I wanted to mix business and pleasure. And it turned out to be more fruitful than I would ever expect!

Not only were all my missions accomplished, I got to meet high school friends whom I have not seen for years; some of them since graduation. It was almost comical to refresh in my mind how they were then and now - under their grown up faces, although all professionals and highly accomplished, they were exactly how I remember they were back in high school. Nothing is sweeter than seeing old friends!

My first trunk show in my hometown Taipei was also the first of the kind ever for the city. The turnout was surprisingly well. It was inspiring to see a whole different kind of Twinkle girl on the other side of the world. After Taipei, I headed to Japan.

My considerate partner in Japan took me to the local restaurants for fresh sushi and sashimi. I probably ordered everything from the counter. Last time I visited Japan was 8 years ago. The excitement and beauty of the country remains the same even after some noticeable changes. My favorite spot is still Yoku Moku’s garden, where I can treat myself to 4 different kinds of tea and dessert while looking out to the beautiful L’eclaireur’s garden.

There is always a terrible mental gap reconnecting to work after an overseas trip. Being away to somewhere else in the country is completely a different thing than being in another country. Coming back to work this time was not harder but more hopeful, especially as I was back to a completely new office. My wonderful Twinkle staff moved our office to the other side of the building while I was away. All I did on the first day back was walking around, just searching, and, upon discovering all the new file and furniture arrangements, was struck in awe by them.

Before my travel bugs went away, I made a trip to the new IKEA in Brooklyn. One thing led to another and I ended up buying food at the BEST market ever around the corner of IKEA - Fairway. I am in complete agreement with their slogan- “Like No Other Market”. The fresh fish and cheese I got there were true testament to the phrase “cooking can be only as good as the ingredient”- please read this month’s spotlight on Galen so you know what I’m talking about!

The whole Red Hook area of Brooklyn has got me completely hooked! I realized my old favorite spot in Manhattan- Chelsea Garden- has moved there! I got a chance once more to appreciate the exotic beautiful trees they have again. Just when I felt so surprisingly fulfilled by my unexpected little adventure, the most wonderful excitement topped it all -  it is a pottery studio called Liberty Sunset Garden Center, owned by a couple whom immigrated from Colombia many years ago.  The backyard of their lovely studio has the best view looking out toward Lady Liberty.

I look at the beautiful tree that I received from Gloria, the wife from the pottery studio, now standing behind my new chair.  And I cannot help but whisper to Gertrude Stein and to myself, Taiwan is my country and New York is my hometown.
Wenlan
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Yoku Moku in Minami-Aoyama, Tokyo

Looking out Hudson River from Red Hook, Brooklyn

The first time I knew of Tehching Hsieh was when I was in sixth grade, across the Atlantic Ocean in Taiwan, reading from the local newspaper about the work he did in New York. I was too young to understand why he worked as he did, yet I was trying to make sense out of it.

This is an artist who does not make art in the traditional sense, as his art is living, moving, breathing – his art is himself. Between 1978 and 1986, he made several one year performances. In the Cage Piece, he locked himself in a cage and spent a year in solitary confinement. One year he punched a worker’s time card every hour on the hour - Time Clock Piece. He spent one year completely outdoors without any shelter - Outdoor Piece. Rope Piece is when he tied himself to someone else for a year, making no physical contact. And No Art Piece is where he spent one year with no art in life.

In 1994 I started to know him as a friend. The first time I went to visit him in his basement apartment in Brooklyn, he showed me the edited video recording of Cage, Time Clock and Outdoor. Although I had to see the footage years after, and in an extremely compressed form, I was left speechless. Before he played the video, he had to leave me watching them alone as he did not want to watch them anymore.

He is, in my mind, one of the best artists of our time. He inspires me profoundly on every level. His work is meticulously passionate and epically mysterious. I often think his art, or life, is like being on deserted land - throw a small stone as hard as you can so that you feel its sharpness penetrating the air, and the stone goes so far, you cannot possibly imagine where it lands.

I only wish he is recognized more than what he has received. A few months ago, during my fashion show after party, he showed up holding a cane. He said it was from an old wound - his very first performance in his hometown when he jumped from the second story. I remembered when he told me this story years ago and we laughed.  At the party, he told me he is going to have an exhibition at MOMA and Guggenheim this year. I could not be more thrilled for him.

Tehching Hsieh’s website:
http://tehchinghsieh.com/

Coming exhibitions:
MOMA
Performance 1: Tehching Hsieh
January 21–May 18, 2009

Guggenheim New York
The Third Mind: American Artists Contemplate Asia, 1860–1989
January 30-April 19, 2009

Wenlan
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Bernard and I traveled to D.C. to attend the inauguration. Staying in the bitter cold for 5 hours, I ruminated on the recent global turmoil, although my thoughts ended with excitement, joy and hope.

This country is so different from 2 years ago when Obama started his campaign. Living in this special time makes me think of KU and KO from I Ching, Book of Changes. I sometimes try to see change through this old Chinese philosophical point of view. I Ching offers me an abstract view of a complicated situation. Sometimes I entertain myself with the surprise inspired by it. Often it gives me optimism during difficult times.

KU, in I Ching, is a stage when things are too progressively played and it becomes spoiled. When you find a worm in an apple, you know there will be more. KU represents decay that is not naturally so, but caused by letting wrong doing go uncorrected and therefore harming justice. It implies guilt and requires removal of the cause. KU very much paints the scene of the financial industry melt down. It forces us to see ourselves with absolute honesty so we can figure out how to repair the wounds.

The excitement of people from all over the world seeing the changes of our country is so overwhelmingly surprising. It’s then I truly realize how much people want this change. The change is often described as a new movement that enlightens and awakes us. It makes me think of KO. In I Ching, its original sense is a molting process of animal’s pelt. It’s a process of a dramatical change yet not so revolutionary that it will change the core or the spirit of the body. The transformation is called for its direst necessity and comes with no regret. It also indicates a beginning of a new era.

Some friends ask me to tell magical oracles when they know I study I Ching. That always makes me laugh. 3000 years ago, I Ching was sometimes used to interpret the future. The symbols of lines do have a mysterious indication. For those who are interested in learning this ancient world-view, I recommend Richard Wilhelm’s I Ching, published by Princeton University Press.

Wenlan

photo courtesy of Gene Burch, geneburch.com

Reality is a question of perspective; the further you get from the past, the more concrete and plausible it seems — but as you approach the present, it inevitably seems incredible.

- Salman Rushdie

I passed the corner of University Place at Washington Square last week and went into the building where I used to live when I first came to New York to study at NYU.  I thought I might be able to say hello to Tony, the doorman who worked there then.  I did not recognize the doorman that greeted me, and when he informed me that the doorman before him was not Tony either, I was not surprised but a bit disappointed.  I thought it would have been nice to catch up with him about our friend Sally after Obama was elected.

In Obama’s election speech, he touched upon this significant election result by referencing an elderly lady, who lived through the time when there were no airplanes, witnessed two world wars, experienced the tumultuous civil rights movement, saw the rise and fall of the Soviet Union, and watched the Berlin Wall come down.  While listening to the speech, I thought of an old friend of mine, Sally, if alive today, would have a lot to say about these memorable times as well.

I shared a big one bedroom with Sally during my two year study at NYU’s graduate school.  I was 23, she was 78.  She was born and raised in Ohio and I was away from home, Taipei, Taiwan, for the first time in my life.  With very little in common, we had developed a rare friendship that lasted after I graduated and moved out.  We had a lot to talk about, mainly because we both can be easily shocked - usually me - by learning about a completely different world from one another.  For example, she had joked that if her grandfather had invested in the Wright brothers instead of some bicycle company, she would have been rich and thus able to afford one of the townhouses on Washington Square North - we could see this one row of prime property from our 3rd floor window.  The Wright brothers had approached her grandfather for initial investment on the greatest invention of the century but were turned down.  It took me a few seconds to figure out this incredible time capsule and still longer to relate today’s aviation industry in this way to someone I know.

Our regular chat time was around 5PM when I came home from school and she had just finished her afternoon bridge game.  She would have a glass of Vodka and soda and me an apple, and we would talk.  Once in awhile, when we both had no plans for the night, the conversation could last for hours through dinner.  She never went out except for an occasional dinner or to a play with friends, yet she had a very active social circle.  Her various friends came by to chat and to play bridge 3 or 4 times a week in the afternoon.  Once we were talking about old Hollywood movies and I mentioned my mom liked Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind.  A few days later, Sally introduced me to one of her gentleman friends, a man that was much younger compared to her other friends.  After they all left, she told me the man I talked to was Vivien Leigh’s last boyfriend - Ms. Leigh had dated a younger man way before Demi Moore did.  I called my mom and told her the story.  Her reaction was very much like when I heard the Wright brothers story.

Sally and her friends were some of the first friends I made outside of school since I came to New York.  Each one of them had an amazing life story to share with a young girl not knowing too much of this country then.  Sally herself was a great listener as well as a story teller with a very individual sense of humor.  Some of my close friends from school developed friendships with her too.  One Thanksgiving night I had Shabu Shabu in my room with friends from NYU and Sally joined us.  We shorted the electricity  and spent a memorable candlelight Thanksgiving together without a turkey.  One of my favorite stories from her that night was how she had an argument with her husband and all of sudden he poured a cup of coffee onto her head.  Her whole face brown and dripping, yet she laughed so hard they stopped arguing.  Her husband died by her side one night when they were talking.  She sat next to him on a sofa and then he stopped talking.  She turned her head and found he had passed away.  She was in her early 50s then.

After I moved out, Sally and I would phone each other to chat and I also went to see her every couple of months.  One night before Christmas, I called her to make plans to see her, but there was no answer.  I felt something was wrong.  It was very late when I was able to get out of office the next day.  I remember it was snowing like the previous night.  I walked eagerly into the lobby, but before I could get a word out, Tony ran toward me and told me Sally had passed away two nights ago in her sleep.  They found out the morning that I tried to call her.

There is a part of New York that is very personal to me.  It is the New York I knew and heard from that Washington Square Park apartment and Sally was an important part of it.  Her stories never failed to inspire awe and wonder in me, about the life she lived and my own future.  There were countless moments in the first two years where I looked out window to the park, and I began to know this city and know myself.  One night I was stuck in a term paper and it started to snow.  I watched the whiteness blanket the park and decided to get out for a walk.  In the middle of night, in the stillness of the present, I could hear my every footstep cracking the perfect snow. The surreal tranquility filled up my body and mind.  It was one of the rare times when I felt the simplest happiness.
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By Wenlan

My family is not Christian.  But like many others in Taipei, Taiwan, who are brain-washed by consumer-driven marketing and advertising, we celebrated Christmas anyway.  There were always parties from the morning of Christmas Eve through Christmas day.  My sister’s birthday is a few days before Christmas and mine is exactly the same number of days after Christmas.  So when we were young, but old enough to know there should be birthday parties for us, our parents skillfully celebrated our birthdays together on Christmas day.  This convenient buy-one-get-two-free package celebration finally ended when my sister went to college in another city.  After she graduated from college and moved back home, I left for New York, to another country, and we never had the chance to resume the celebration.

Never short of celebration, parties and entertaining guests during the holidays as a child, I made it a routine to celebrate and attend parties when I was at NYU, and continued after I graduated and got married. After years of event-and-gathering packed Christmases, both my husband (then boy friend) and I felt like doing just one good party instead.  So there were two years where we attended some extravaganza in the city- first with dinner by French chief and desert covered in gold foil; 2nd I wore my vintage Balenciaga black lace dress. Next year we traveled to London during the holiday.  A year after, we felt a quiet family Christmas was the best, so we hosted a white Christmas theme with a big tree decorated with expensive ornaments from Barney’s. A year went by, our puppy dog was bestowed with a smaller tree, adorned with recycled ornaments from the previous year.  A home-cooked festive dinner with champagne and candlelight took place a year after, with no tree.  Last year we decided not do anything special, we thought, we had traveled in Berlin and needed rest, although the trip took place in Thanksgiving.

As I continue this deduction history of celebrating the holiday, finally, this year I have reached zero - a solo Christmas.  I told my husband about the zero plan and he said he will think about it.  I know he has secretly been wanting to go to the Caribbean during winter.  To motivate him, last night I brought up more holiday destinations and suggested that he travel to Iceland as it’s cheap there now due to the financial meltdown. “We need to save for the melting day,” I said.

Why is a solo Christmas needed?  I wish I had a good answer.  It’s not about having a space of my own - I don’t even have kids to be too busy and lose myself about.  I do the work I love and I have no complaints about my life.  Perhaps doing solo is like when I was in high school, where about once a year, I would skip school for one day and go to the movies, do some window shopping, and dine by myself without letting anyone know.  I was a good student so my teachers and parents never suspected a thing.  I did not feel like I was betraying them, did not struggle or felt guilty either.  Instead, I felt enlightened and enriched after being alone.  It was a real solo day for myself because everyone thought I was where I should have been when I was among strangers.  I felt free.

As my husband is planning his trip, I can’t wait to pop the question, “Why not take the dog too, honey?”

By Wenlan

The hot topic recently among my friends, besides the presidential election, is fitness.  We all should have talked about this some time ago, before we had to admit we will no longer fit into our size 2 dresses.  After having countless cocktails and glasses of wine, I found I could hardly zip up a dress from a year ago.  But I was optimistic.  I told myself, “What do you know? It does not fit today but it might fit tomorrow.”

Yet it took me many tomorrows to settle to the fact that I needed to start placing personal orders on my own collection as I couldn’t fit into the size 2 samples anymore.  I am now a size 4.  I remember when I first started the business and really struggled trying to make all my samples size 0 as that was the size that fitted me perfectly.  I thought if the business did not work out and I did not shop for three years then I would at least have the collection for myself and make the investment back.

People who are always on a diet have no idea how difficult it is for a used-to-be thin person to be on diet.  Thin, and often too skinny, for almost my whole life, I have formed no discipline on food intake.  I ate whatever and whenever I wanted and old habits die hard.  It is hard to train the very spoiled stomach to be a healthy organ.

On the other hand, gaining weight has a few advantages.  I start to feel that exercise is a necessity, not just to be healthy and toned, but to stay in a size 4- I do not want to lose all my old clothes.  My husband suggested that gaining weight may not be a bad thing as I can design for real women, which might help my business to the next level.

Almost all my friends gained weight over the years and we all have to start working out and watching our diets.  The most successful ones are those who are single, although we have the same trainer.  I do not like the gym.  My trainer has to be very patient, reminding me to attend every session.  While I’m trying to get out of sessions, I also think hard for an alternative.  It struck me that many years ago I used to be on a swimming team and I won karate competitions as well. And then I realized that I have not done any sport or any form of exercise for a very very long time.  Training out of necessity does not work like doing sport out of love.

Beautiful women of my age, like Nicole Kidman or Halle Berry- I will take their bodies in a minute, but they do not inspire me.  Olympic swimmer Dana Torres does. I started going to the gym again. The other day I watched Oprah and saw feminist and political activist Gloria Steinem, 74 years old now.  I emailed her picture to my mom and told her Ms. Steinem’s story. My mom started jogging the next day.  Inspiration goes a long way.
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Dana Torres

By Wenlan
It is rather difficult trying to be objective when talking about my dog Milan.  She is the cutest and the sweetest.  If you don’t believe it, check out her picture - the innocent eyes, the baby face, the tear drop markings on her butt, the bat ears and pink belly.  Having a big heart, she is very affectionate to any animal and every person.  Milan has amazing energy when going out on a walk or playing indoors.  Yet the best thing is she never asks to go out on a weekend morning when I like to stay in bed for a bit longer.

This little creature inspires some of the very popular twinkle designs, such as Milan and Her Rubble Ball necklace, Milan’s Imaginary Friend mat, Milan Mirror throw pillow, and Milan intarsia sweater.  A camera darling in my fashion show back stage, she actually RAN the runway once and her picture opens my first knitting book.  But, nothing compares to the little, silly joys that she brings to the twinkle office everyday.

Yet I have to admit she is not the brightest.  She is 4 years old and the only command she knows is “sit” and she does not always follow it.  I do not try to teach her any tricks.  I told myself I just want her to be who she is and a happy dog.  The truth is I do not have the patience to wait for her to learn another trick.

Her instinct for pinpointing human food however is remarkably sharp.  She was once found hanging around the hot dog shop at the street corner by our building security guard.  Still now I have no clue how she made it out our studio, down 17 flights of stairs, and through the lobby to the shop.  The other day we heard Leon scream “MY GOD” in the showroom and discovered that Milan ate a whole box of macaroons that we prepared for editors in our press presentation.  Still now I cannot figure out how she knocked the box down from the table and how she managed to finish them all so quickly.  Well, not all as Yuki managed to grab one from Milan for herself.  According to Joanna’s calculations, Milan had at least 10,000 calories intake.  As much as we are all watching our diet, everyone mourned deeply over the left over macaroon pieces on our cream rug and spent the day pointing at Milan and yelling “BAD”.  It was a split-second in which we loved the macaroons over her.  Other times, Milan takes immense delight chewing buttons, hangers, beads, yarn swatches, as well as her favorite push pins; we enjoy her company then with great tolerance.

Milan in a Nutshell

Every time I am asked what I would have been doing if I were not a designer, I think of my favorite book, Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Told through a great love story, one of the many complicated ideas in this book is that what has happened once might have never happened at all. Thus, each life is insignificant and each decision does not matter. The decisions we’ve made in our lifetime is unbearably light.
The pivoting point in life can be unimportant, as it does not exist. Among many complicated meanings behind this philosophy, I found it at least therapeutic- so I do not take everything too seriously, knowing I take everything very seriously.  I also think of the book when I am trying to balance myself from thinking I really just have one chance in life when I actually have endless second chances.  Everything that happens in life is so unique that it can never be reproduced again, yet there are endless possibilities as well. I have made quite a few detours in my career and I still keep my future open. I can’t say this attitude owes itself to this book. I first read it in 1988 and have been reading it many times through the past 20 years.
Every time I answer the question of what I would have done if I were not a designer, my thoughts go from chief, movie maker, rancher, writer, architect, zoologist, or archeologist to even a paper maker or bartender, not that I know how to do any of these well. Quite simply, I do not see being a fashion designer as my last and only career, although I absolutely enjoy my work very much.
A book can have this kind of profound influence on a person because the book speaks for them. It echoes the very inside layer of what we want in life. It does not enlighten us as much as it wakens the deepest part in us that we weren’t even aware existed before. This kind of book is a person’s best friend, soul mate, and ghost.
Wenlan Chia

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

At brunch, I met a lady, who couldn’t stop talking about the free hot chocolate she and her boyfriend enjoyed at a Target promotion. She went on for at least 30 minutes about this hot chocolate. Knowing I couldn’t escape this one-way, “I’m in hell” conversation, I slowly envisioned pulling my hair out piece-by-piece. My life is too short to be trapped in this boring conversation, I thought. Yeah, wouldn’t life be too long for ordinary moment to run one’s life?

A few nights later, I was having dinner with a very witty friend, who began talking about a birthday party for her 60-year-old boss. We discussed the marvelous accomplishments of her boss, explaining that not long before her birthday, she was promoted to lead a very successful department in the company. Not to mention, her boss hit a landmark in her career, long after what was considered the traditional primetime. As she recounted such events, she let out a sudden cry, “Life is not short! Life is long!”  I laughed.

As I watched The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, I was suddenly reminded of my witty friend’s comment.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is the story of Jean Dominique Bauby, a renowned editor at French Elle Magazine, after he suffered a stroke at age 29. With one blinking eye and the help of a writing assistant, he completed a biography. The number of wonderful things he created and imagined, in spite of all that he had lost after his stroke, is unbelievable. He realized that, despite the accident and his misfortune, he could enjoy life to its fullest through sheer imagination: a life that was perhaps richer than the one he could have led with his full health.

My favorite scene is the one in which he and his father – the two men with their strong minds, were trapped in withering bodies. Also, the contrast in relationships between him, his ex-wife and current girlfriend serves as a true testimony to the film’s originality and personal account. His ex-wife and girlfriend represent two very different passion of love. After his accident, his ex-wife forgave him and offered to take care of him, while his girlfriend lacked the courage to see him. While the girlfriend’s lack of support and refusal to see him might seem cruel and distant to some, I felt empathic to her pain and fear.

The film has also turned me into a fan of Julian Schnabel, the film’s director — post his famous “Plate Paintings” from the 80s. His raw photography enlivened an intuitive and spontaneous journey in front of my eyes, deep and beautiful like Jean Dominique’s own life. The film’s “handmade,” ethereal feeling is definitely something from a painter’s hand.

One of Julian Schnabel’s famous “Plate Paintings”, The Patients and the Doctors.

Poster of The Diving Bell & the Butterfly

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A few years ago, I received an email from a stranger, who had just adopted a Chinese baby girl and wanted to name her Wenlan. She wanted to know what my name means. People often say that my name is “pretty” by the sound of it; but, once they learn what it means, their eyes twinkle as if they just spotted an adorable puppy. I replied to the stranger with the answer that Wenlan means “orchid in mist.”

Yet, this is not entirely what my name means. Or rather, Wenlan can mean many other things as well but I choose this image- orchid in mist. It was probably what my dad expected his first daughter to be when he gave me the name.

I have always thought that the most uncreative part of English was the names. Of course, different names attract certain moods. We acquire love and romance from “Juliet, modernity from “Stephanie,” and manliness from “Jack”. But there is little room for imagination. Do I want it to be pretty Anna. Classic? Grace. Smart? Hilary. Sweet? Renee. Passionate? Scarlet. And if you aren’t a celebrity that isn’t concerned with being too adventurous with names, it might be hard to get away with Apple.

In Chinese, you can create unique names by combining characters. But, even with endless choices, many Chinese parents still settle with common names. The “-lan” in my first name means orchid and is a common character for girl’s name. There was a girl named Ling-lan in my 8^th grade. And the two of use felt we were too cool for being one of the “-lans”. When she found out my sister’s name, Ai-lan, she couldn’t help but burst into sad laughter. “Shouldn’t one lan enough for your household? “Wen-“ is a relatively abstract word. People rarely use it nowadays. The dictionary says it was used in classic Chinese literature to describe talented writing. The mist surrounds mountain is also referred as “wen”. So, I guess my name has two literal meanings: good writing orchid or mountain mist orchid. I twist it a little and say “orchid in mist” because of its beautiful image.

Unless you are a storyteller or a writer, one rarely has the opportunity to give names on a regular basis. My dad was not happy with the name my sister gave her daughter. But, my sister told him his naming right had ended with us two. A modern woman like my sister probably does not plan to have too many children so she wants to enjoy the opportunity of naming her own kids. Many have this joy when naming their pets – like my husband and I did with my French bulldog. But, the real fun began when I decided to give a name to each Twinkle creation.

Naming clothes is fun because the choices are limitless, bold, humorous, wild, and over the top. Some of my favorites from Twinkle’s Holiday 08 collection include “Illusionist”, a fake double-layered mohair cardigan and “Simply Darling”, a sweet black and white button down blouse. Memorable names from past seasons are: “Sweat Pea” for a high-waist full dome shape skirt, “Ahoy” for a black and white striped chunky knit cardigan, “Jet Star” for a black techo fabric hoodie with bat sleeves, and “Never a Bridesmaid” for a sexy black lace top.

If naming blouse and skirt is like writing a newspaper column, then naming a dress is like writing a short story with a plot, characters, and complicated relationships. A dress needs a character to play it. For example, “Snow Bunny”, a tuxedo inspired spaghetti dress for the cocktail-ready lady; “Book Worm”, a white shirtdress with button details for a sharp daydreamer; and Final Bow, a bold multi color dress, is for a woman that wants to make an entrance.

Naming a print is even more challenging, since it is so abstract- almost like writing a poem. Yet, when the inspiration strikes, its rhythm and imagery magically flow. My favorites are a dark grey-bluish color called “Monsoon” and a light foggy color called “Dew light”. They both are for a print named “Impressionist”. A geometric velvet burn out fabric is named “Moon Dance”, which captures the mystery of the pattern and luxe quality. Naming has become a fun game in the office as well. We debated what the best name for a beautiful silver jacquard fabric might be and finally settled with Taj Mahal.

People say your design is like your baby. I enjoy the parenting part of naming. It gives me sheer joy when a good name screams the essence of the design. The difference between naming my baby and a real baby is that mine has already gone through its growing pain. So when I give names, I have fun without fearing that the name will be mismatched. But, naming an actual baby is built on so much expectation and hope. My sister’s first child is Yuelan and my dog is named Milan. For different reasons, they both have “-lan” in their names. Or maybe, my family just can’t get enough of this beautiful flower.

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Impressionist Print

Monsoon                                      Dewlight