Shentel – My favourite things

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shentel

The Dynamic Designer

Shentel Lee literally mirrors her Gemini zodiac sign. Highly creative and eclectically innovative, she is the mastermind behind The Playground Sydney, Sereni & Shentel, Photobooth Events Malaysia and Bowerhaus. This busy Aussie mum resides permanently in Kuching, Borneo. She is often spotted most mornings hastily gulping down local laksa and dashing to meetings with a latte in hand. You will find her on weekends, leisurely browsing in vintage stores with pram in tow. Her current craze is gifting gigantic helium balloons with exotic decorative tassel trims at every opportunity.

Follow Shentel on Instagram @SHENTEL

Family Ties

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HARPER’S BAZAAR JULY 2013

Family Ties

The dynasty that works and plays together, stays together. Matriarch Betty Lee immortalises hers in BAZAAR.

The last time we vacationed in France as a family, Bobby Ting went down on one knee, and proposed to my older daughter, Shentel. He had chosen the rooftop terrace of Plaza Hotel in Nice, overlooking the Bay of Angels with an orange-lit full moon sky as his backdrop. It was staged at midnight, so we were awoken to the good news, dressed entirely in our sleepwear. For the celebratory toast, Bobby procured a 1982 Dom Perignon, a most befitting vintage as it commemorated Shentel’s birth year.

befitting vintage as it commemorated Shentel’s birth year. Such is the magic of France. And, because my darling girl had to leave the nest to live in Kuching, since then our annual family holiday has taken on the ritual of family reunions. I rather think family reunions are more civilised if hosted outside of one’s home… and best if staged overseas. For our first extended family get-together, we orchestrated Shentel and Bobby’s wedding to coincide with our annual vacation so we could shamelessly tag along on their honeymoon. Bobby’s parents graciously hosted the post-wedding event in Langkawi following the official nuptials in Kuching. We all had such a fabulous time exploring the entire island that, really, no one would have known it was their honeymoon! Our family reunions have taken us to Egypt, cruising the length of the Nile on-board the Sanctuary Zein Nile Chateau private cruiser, and to our mountain home in Leura, Sydney, when Shentel was pregnant with our first grandchild.

The next reunion was planned once our grandson Benjamin joined the party. He was four months old when we returned to Paris, the City of Love, and the entourage comprised of my husband Lincoln and I; Elizabeth and her boyfriend Benjamin Yong; Shentel and husband Bobby, plus baby Benjamin with nanny in tow. Romance was certainly in the air as I have never seen my daughter Elizabeth as smitten as she is with Benjamin senior. I am happy that he seems just as enamoured with her. The advantage of him having the same name as my beloved grandson is that every time I lavish compliments on baby Benjamin, the charming young man thinks the flattery was meant for him as well. So successful is this fortunate coincidence that I have been bombarded with appreciative chocolates and pastries from this most worthy suitor.

Paris is even more special because it was precisely this fashion capital that first inspired both my daughters, Shentel and Elizabeth, to embark on their jewellery line, Bowerhaus. When she was a child, I recall getting Shentel her first French watch on her maiden trip to Paris. Interestingly, she was more fascinated with the red box the watch came in. Perhaps this might have been the defining moment for Shentel, for upon graduating from university as a graphic designer, she set up her first company in Sydney specializing in packaging.

The long flight to Paris with baby Benjamin was bliss – he’s a real trooper though I may well be biased. However, the daunting task of carting luggage that rivaled that of the maharajas was unnerving. His parents packed his entire bedroom suite so baby Benjamin would think he was still in his Borneo boudoir while in Paris and thus a two-week supply of his daily-required inventories was packed to accompany us for the trip. His sizeable baggage included his personalised cot, customized bathtub, favourite Red Flag cocoon-a-baby rest, preferred carrier, stroller, nappies, formula, his entire wardrobe and, last but not least, the most crucial item, the weighty solid silver musical trinket that plays Benjamin’s favourite lullabies. Honestly, Bobby would not have known if I had sneaked in my vibrating massage armchair. As our plane touched down into Paris at an ungodly hour on the coldest dawn of three degrees, we could not check into our apartment at Place des Vosges for a good four hours. Sensibly, Bobby organised a substantial suite at The Westin for a brief pit-stop. The thought of baby Benjamin having to endure the cold morning air of Paris was more than his father could possibly bear. Funnily enough, before we could even work out which of the 10 suitcases contained Benjamin’s essentials required for the brief stopover, the convoy trucks returned to ferry us to our apartment.

Our apartment in Place des Vosges was ensconced within the rolls of rose-coloured neoclassical buildings that once housed French nobility. It had perfect floor-toceiling French windows that overlooked the fountains in the oldest square in Europe where the park’s perimeters were lined with neatly cropped lime and chestnut trees. Sunday would see us chilling out among the picnickers and musicians embracing the quintessential ambience of Parisian charm.

Unlike most parks in Paris, sitting, snacking, and snoozing are permitted on the grass in this delightful garden. Best of all, it has free Wi-Fi. The clinch factor for Shentel was she got to traipse off just down the road to a mercier filled with overflowing reams of ribbons. For Elizabeth, it was the vintage bookstores,and for me, it was easy access to the nearest patisseries.

Of course, Paris is as famous for its Eiffel Tower as it is for petty thefts and scam artists. It was, thus, not surprising that within only two hours of landing in Paris, Elizabeth was confronted by a gypsy gold ring scam. A sharp Elizabeth simply shook her head and gestured her cautious fingers at the culprit. Sensing a fruitless stint, the scammer made a hasty retreat. The cheat obviously targeted the wrong prey; if it were gullible me, the crook would have retired comfortably to the south of France.

At any rate, our first outing in Paris was to the Goyard store at Rue Saint-Honore. The hunt for a Birkin at Hermès has long lost its lustrous appeal with us. The mindless, silly games one has to play out with its curt and arrogant staff is increasingly boring and tedious. Notably, customer service at Goyard is microscopically better. Strangely, I can never comprehend why we seem to tolerate and make absurd concessions for stylishly attired, rude French salespeople. Both daughters were first drawn to the Goyard label for its iconic, mesmerising pattern.The signature design artwork reminds them of Australian aborigines’ dreamtime native landscape paintings.

This particular visit to the Goyard store was a much-anticipated appointment, as Shentel and Elizabeth wished to customize each of their individual handbags. Fonts were painstakingly discussed at great length, particular colour tones carefully explored and specific stripe patterns thoroughly examined. Both daughters are as meticulous as they are competent. So detailed was their customisation that the artwork ended up costing as much as the price of the bags. The total of which, only a passionate hard-core graphic designer can justify.However, their frugal father reckons he could have customised the bags himself with some coloured tape and fancy stickers acquired from a local thrift store.

Both daughters work and play with their best friends. Shentel with best mate, Sereni Linggi in their Sereni & Shentel headband business as well as in their newly created venture called, Photobooth Events, a portable photo booth in Kuala Lumpur and Kuching. Elizabeth, collaborates with her best friend since high school, Holly Cardew, in their budding Internet greeting cards venture in Postman’s Box. The sisters are as passionate about their Bowerhaus business as they are of each other. In fact, I dare say my two daughters’ only flaw is they do not spend enough time with their mum nor return her phone calls immediately.

Elizabeth’s business acumen surfaced at age 10 when unbeknown to me, she was operating a thriving little business at her private school selling friendship bands that she made out of colourful stockings she had acquired economically at a closing down sale. Her unregulated trading was soon brought to the attention of an infuriated principal and Elizabeth was summoned into her office for a harsh reprimand. Unfortunately, an appalled and highly embarrassed Shentel was commandeered out of her class to be present for the admonishment. When it was time to leave the principal’s office, Shentel noted that Elizabeth was struggling with her school bag. Annoyed, Shentel tugged the bag off her so they could make a quick exit. To her astonishment, the bag weighed a ton. Only later back at home, did Shentel realise the triumphant feat of her little sister’s business. They counted over 400 dollars in coins. Though I was mortified by Elizabeth’s moonlighting operation, her commercially minded father took pride in his young daughter’s entrepreneurial prowess.

Elizabeth’s next endearing venture coup was exposed when I received numerous phone calls from school mums enquiring if I had any more plates for sale. Apparently, Elizabeth was up to her cheeky self again. I queried Elizabeth and she replied nonchalantly, “Remember those catering plates that you had put out for charity pickup; I have been selling them to my classmates. Do you have any more plates to dispose of?” I was disposing of those old plates, as they were heavy and cumbersome. She must have made numerous trips, as there were over six dozen of them. “How much did you sell those plates for?” I enquired, curiously. “Three dollars each,” she replied. “But I only paid 50 cents each for them.” “Mum! You have to factor in inflation, it costs more to replace them now,” she cheekily winked as she tried to dash past me. I grabbed Elizabeth by her backpack and took a look at her loot. That cheeky rascal not only “stole” all of my old dinner plates, but was now pillaging the matching side plates as well. Moreover, she wrapped each individual plate with white tissue paper. When I enquired as to why she couldn’t have used the discarded newspaper as wrapping, she replied sassily that it sells better presented luxuriously. I was pleasantly surprised that even at that young age, she was mindful of the seduction of packaging.

While still in high school, Shentel converted the room above our garage into a workshop creating custom-made beaded twin sets. Her clientele were the wealthy ladies of Sydney’s eastern suburbs. She would laboriously stitch elaborate beadworks into her designs and could hardly keep up with the orders. This needlework skill has positively heeded her well in her current headband business. Both girls are creative and artistic by nature. To keep them inspired and innovative, I had to sneakily advance each of their ages in the enrolment form to gain early entry to the vocational art colleges. Bowerhaus came about when Shentel and Elizabeth (upon graduation from university) decided to join forces and start a jewellery line together. It was only a natural progression, as both were keen collectors of eclectic trinkets, charms, and ornaments. They create their own necklaces, bracelets, and earrings from objects acquired on their extensive travels. Their philosophy is that all accessories for their Bowerhaus creations have to be naturally acquired. The design has to be simple and uncomplicated. Most importantly it has to be an item that can be worn by the young and old so it can be passed on as a cherished item from generation to generation.

Of course, their astute wisdom in business acumen certainly does not come from me. I find it amusing that both daughters banned me from their business premises as they claim that I am a liability. They stated that I give their profits away with the slightest compliment from customers. Yes, I acknowledge that I am a super sucker for the tiniest of praise. I think it is largely due to being ignored by my daughters and husband. Both have clearly inherited their father’s workaholic genes. It would be lovely if one of them took a day off to take me shopping.

As much as I love my daughters, my grandson, Benjamin, has now clearly taken centre stage in my eyes and heart. Baby Benjamin is so much fun that it is almost illicit to be this happy. The best accessory a grandma can have is a handsome grandson in her arms. I do not wish to brag – though I am busting to ‘blow my own horn’ – but even the prudish Parisians let their guards down when they catch sight of my dashing Benny. Compliments galore accompany us everywhere we go in Paris; in the parks, on the walkways, supermarket, and even once in line for the washroom (to change diapers for baby, of course). “Ooh la la, quel bébé adorable.” And each and every time, I would graciously reply: “Oui, oui, mon Benjamin, il est le bébé le plus mignon.” (“Yes, yes, my Benjamin is the cutest baby.”) I can categorically declare that my beloved grandson, Benjamin, is a genius. I am certain of his prodigy because, of all the grandmothers in the world he could have chosen, he picked me!

Chinese tradition

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I think I know where my love for gold jewelry comes from. The minute my son was born he was given many pieces of gold jewelry from family and friends. It is common for a Chinese baby to receive pendants, necklaces and rings all before they are one month old. The Chinese believe it will bring luck and great fortune to the baby and is the reason why many choose to adore their babies with gold.

I too have a collection of baby gold that my mother has passed to me. I have fond memories of wearing many of them as I was growing up, from heart pendants to elaborate gold rings that had my Chinese surname worked into the design.

I wasn’t really into this superstition because I had a baby boy but the day my mother bought him his first gold anklet, and placed it on while I was at work I feared to even think about removing it. Magically two weeks later another identical anklet appeared on his other foot! My mother in-law wanted him to know his other grandmother loved him equally. Yes my son does get taunts from my friends about how girlie his anklets are but Benjamin thankfully is completely clueless to all the fuss. The only way these anklets are coming off is by a huge ankle growth spurt, but I am sure his grandmothers will take them to the goldsmith to be extended. xox Shentel