Hong Kong is in Desperate Need of Model Citizens
Joey Basha
Two very unrelated, yet equally disturbing incidents have happened recently which have led me to pine for that lovely little nook on the corner of Duckworth Street. The first was spotting a rat in a subway platform being swatted to death by an old Chinese lady with her embarrassingly fake Gucci clutch; the other involved going through my old diaries and finding an article which I had written for The Current (R.I.P.?), previewing the opening of MacNeil’s brainchild and pet-project. It was folded up, hidden and had “TRASH” scrawled across it in red ink.
Moving to Hong Kong was an incredible learning curve for me – it was a Himalayan learning curve, I should say. Discounting the obvious cultural and linguistic blockades, I had to get used to the anthill density, 300 square-foot apartments and a pace of living that I still haven’t quite gotten used to, even after nearly three years. For the sake of this particular piece, though, I should concentrate on perhaps one of the more embarrassing adjustments I had to make upon moving here: I had to learn how to dress.
It has been well documented that people in the sinosphere generally consider themselves to be classless (at least, in the way we define class). This has a lot to do with Confucian heritage, in which a person is taught that humility and conformity are both virtuous. However, by the mid-eighties, cities like Tokyo and Hong Kong were booming and the amount of well-paid, educated and unmarried women became the most influential buyers of luxury goods. As a result, massive campaigns were launched by the likes of Bernard Etienne Arnault, a tyrant in the fashion world, who eventually ended up buying and streamlining long-established houses like Louis Vuitton and Dior, making them nothing more than over-priced, factory-made fodder for a generation of women who were desperate to buy themselves just a little bit of self-worth. Fast forward thirty years later and the obvious degeneration is clear: what was once a sign of prestige, of truly fine craftsman ship from a distinguished brand has been, well, reduced to rat guts.
The whole experience of having to live in a brand-obsessed society has taught me an invaluable lesson about fashion and what it means to me: it’s great to appreciate the finer fabrics, the respected houses and the industry itself, dynamic as it is. But it’s important to maintain a strong impression of who you are and how you choose to present yourself, regardless of the net-value of your outfit. I know that Chelsey understands that principle and considering the subsequent success of the store, the people of St. John’s are taking a lesson from her: trust yourself; be honest with yourself. Maybe I should take my own advice and re-visit that article that I had condemned years ago for being a piece of trash: maybe it ain’t all that bad.
Joey Basha is a writer, editor and musician in Hong Kong.
Check out his blog at http://voteforchan.blogspot.com/
And for the record, he has broken the bank at Lanvin once or twice…
Photo Credit: Brian Ricks (www.brianricks.com)
Model: Clare Asquith
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