SHE was perhaps best known as the 'over-35er' who took St James Power Station to task for denying her free Ladies' Night drinks at its Powerhouse outlet in June because she had been deemed too old.
At the time, Ms Violet Lim's decision to fight for her right to party with all the promised perks sparked off a public debate on whether the move was ageist.
It eventually forced the club to create a new Ladies' Night at another of its outlets, the Bellini Room, to pacify 'female patrons of all ages'.
But the one detail that Ms Lim had not revealed at that time was driving her to live it up. She had cancer, the painful evidence of which was hidden by her wig and favourite Gucci beret.
The florist and dating consultant died on Thursday after a 11/2-year fight with the disease. She was 55.
It was fitting, then, that a clear binder containing the newspaper articles sparked off by the Powerhouse debacle sat in front of her coffin during the wake.
The binder was one of many that Ms Lim maintained over the years. Through it, friends and relatives got a glimpse of her spirit, strong to the very end.
Messages to Ms Lim written on sheets of scented yellow paper will fill the empty pages, said her daughter Ms Angela Sim, 31, the elder of two children.
'Aunty Violet,' reads one, 'crank up the volume and get the drinks ready... for that great big party in the sky.'
'She lived life to the fullest and touched many of us,' read another.
The florist, who also started a dating consultancy in 1999, first found a lump in one of her breasts in July 2006. Unlike her mother, who had not sought help early for her colon cancer and died in 1991, Ms Lim underwent a mastectomy and then chemotherapy.
But she was determined not to let it get her down.
Rather than lose her hair in clumps, she shaved her head and invested in a wardrobe of wigs and caps, revealed her best friend, Ms Tan Lan Eng, 58.
Ms Lim, a self-confessed fashionista, even engaged husband and childhood sweetheart, Mr Bob Sim, as her driver whenever she and her friends - who dubbed themselves the Ah Soh (Old Ladies) Club - felt like a spot of retail therapy to 'counter' the cancer.
She even made shopping trips to Bangkok to expand her range of wigs, outfits and shoes.
Ms Lim also inspired some of her contemporaries, who had long hung up their heels, to take another twirl around the dancefloor, hitting clubs like Thumper.
Meanwhile, work did not stop. She still took orders for floral arrangements and helped singles meet matches through her dating service, the Novel Club.
On top of that, she frequently shot off letters to the Forum pages and even government departments to make her views known.
'She was never the sort of person to put off doing something that she could do today. But after she got through the chemotherapy and thought she was cancer-free, she really started living every day even more to the maximum,' said her daughter, Ms Sim.
But the respite from cancer proved to be short-lived.
In fact, the Powerhouse incident was one of the last times she painted the town red.
Barely a month later, unable to walk and suffering dizzy spells, she found herself back in hospital.
A scan revealed the worst: The cancer she had thought was gone had spread to her lungs, kidney and brain. Little could be done.
The diagnosis was dire but her response, anything but.
From her hospital bed, she tracked the fallout from the Ladies' Night incident.
Comments from 20-somethings asking older 'aunties' to 'hang out at the community club' instead did sting, but she took them in her stride, said Ms Sim. She was just glad she had stood up for her own - and anyone else's - right to party, while she still could.
'She felt really triumphant, really pleased. Partying was something she loved and she really didn't care what anyone else thought. It was what she wanted,' Ms Sim said.
She was 'gutsy', said St James' owner Dennis Foo, when he heard of her battle with cancer and her death.
'I don't know her personally, but she had an impact on all our lives. She must really have known how to celebrate life,' he said.
Three months later, she was weak, but could go home. She returned to working with her flowers and finished the text for her dating club's website, said Ms Sim.
A cruise with her family had been planned for this month to make up for a second honeymoon voyage that had been thwarted by her cancer relapse.
Unbeknownst to her family, she had also penned the first few lines of her own obituary and chosen a photograph and a quote from the Bible. She also said she wished to be adorned with pearls. This was found on her computer when she was in her final days.
Ms Lim partied her last over Christmas when, despite being very weak, she lay on the sofa as friends and family carolled. She unwrapped a white Louis Vuitton handbag, which she said she would carry for Chinese New Year.
It was not to be.
On Dec 28, she was back in the Singapore General Hospital and, a week later, she was unresponsive in a morphine-induced sleep.
Early on Thursday morning, Ms Lim opened her eyes briefly to look at her family for the last time.
And then the one-time party aunty shed a single tear before drawing her final breath.
