DON'T go to ukays.
Last time I went to an ukay, I had rashes upon entering the store, like I was allergic to dust or affordable clothing.
My wife, pregnant with child, went inside an ukay once, got lost, and never returned.
So DON'T go to ukays, especially not the rich kids.
Baduy man for some, but I want the hopeless romantic kind of love, the cheesy one, the small things, the random sticky notes, the good morning texts, the one where they remember a detail you just mentioned in passing, the comfortable silence. Someday.