Although it has been 30 years since the first MediaCorp celebration of its talents, the needle has not moved in the glamour stakes

No stage presence: (from left) Jernelle Oh, Richie Koh, Chantelle Ng, Desmond Tan, Hazelle Teo, and Hermen Keh

By Ray Zhang

It is said that nobody really cares about the Star Awards (红星大奖) and the Walk of Fame (红星大道) that came before it. I can see why. But I wonder if it is also possible that the attendees and the red carpet walkers are just as bo chap, can’t be bothered. On the latest Walk of Fame red carpet, the unconcerned, aiya-chin-chye-lah attitude was alive and well. How else should I understand, for example, why YES 933 DJ Kenneth Chung Kun Wah (钟坤华) strutted on the red carpet in shorts and—believe it—nearly knee-high, Pikachu-yellow wellingtons?! Yes, very similar to the style-challenged Phua Chu Kang’s and, by now, a tired footwear joke (or was he not able to buy the Crocs X MSCHF boots, and thought looking like he just came from feeding swine at a pig farm a good look?). But perhaps there was not much to regard the prelude to the bloated, self-congratulatory show, never mind what a 红地毯 (hongditan or red carpet) even meant.

This could be a Walk of Fame with the most worst-dressed. I tried to understand that this was a once-a-year event. Even for those who had won their 10th and final Top 10 Most Popular Male/Female Artists award, they were unlikely natural or comfortable with the get-ups they were made to put on since they would unlikely have had enough occasions to practice wearing a suit or a gown and carry themselves with the refinement and gracefulness that befit a 红星 (hongxing or hot star). Or to acquaint themselves with what they wear. Even veteran attendee Kym Ng was lost at explaining the intricacies of her sparkly strapless dress. When asked how it was held up, she said that there were “一支一支的 (rods)” beneath the bodice, which I assumed to be boning (or 撑骨, chenggu). How many actresses who wore dresses with high slits at the back or at the side walked as if to the car to retrieve the cup of kopi they left behind, rather than the TV goddess they have been hyped to be? Sure, there are those, such as Amanda Chai of The Straits Times, who believed the stars “pulled out all the stops”. But for many of us, if they had anything, it was not pull.

These boots are made for mocking. Kenneth Chung flanked by Chen Ning and Lin Lingzhi

One of them is not like the others. From left, James Seah, Hong Ling, and Nick Teo

“Be prepared to be swept off your feet”, the Star Awards 2024 trailer before last night’s three-hour show enticed. And on the MediaCorp website, the event “promises to be a sensory delight”. While the broadcaster could have over-promised, it also did not help that the stars could do no better. The let’s-pat-ourselves-on-our-backs show was no different this year than from those of the past—vainglorious, smug, and seriously dull. The event has been sold as “an enchanting night of glitz and glamour” for a good part of its three-decade existence. But 30 years did not amount to enchanting, let alone glitzy (black fabrics used to conceal equipment intruding the real estate that is the red carpet?) or glamorous. Nor, a tradition of red carpet dressing or, least of all, a golden age. I find it hard to look back and see if they did better or if the stars were indeed stylish, even a tad so. But many of them approached the Walk of Fame as if they were attending their cousin’s wedding at some hotel ballroom. Perhaps, it is alright not to see style on the red carpet, but not witnessing taste can truly knock off the mystic that accompanies stardom.

In the local business of star-making, what actors and the like wear on the red carpet largely boils down to a handful of stylists, with the mother hen Annie Chua Yi Chun (蔡宜君), MediaCorp’s long-time “image stylist/costume designer”, ruling over them. Whether you are an actor, a host, or a radio DJ; if you are uninformed and less connected to the fashion world, you would be dependant on the pinafore-loving Ms Chua’s wise counsel and enlightened thematic preferences. She did not say to the cameras this year what she was partial to, but a dominant motif could be seen: the more out there, the better. But Ms Chua does not have much clout with luxury brands, so she works with local designers, tailors, and clothiers to come up with what she desires the willing stars to wear, such as Huang Biren’s amazingly lookalike gown from last year.

In the wrong place? From left, Alfred Sun, Eric Lay, Brian Ng, and Soo Wee Seng

Red carpet veterans, Chen Han Wei and Zoe Tay

Those artistes who have their own style gurus are perhaps a tad more fortunate. Joanne Peh (白薇秀), for example, continued to work with Martin Wong (黄锦桦), who was able to score a Givenchy dress for his star-client so that she could look every bit the Dorra Slimming model that she is paid to be. Zoe Tay (郑惠玉) was another lucky star. This year, she wore a vintage (2013) Tom Ford ‘Ka-Pow’ gown. According to 阿姐 (ajie or big sister), who made sure to credit her pal/stylist Johnny Khoo (邱添德) for her look, the outfit was fished out of his private collection. Mr Khoo, group fashion director at Burda Luxury media house, is one of the few stylists who makes sure that his charges wear at least moderately significant gowns in the annals of modern fashion, even if they are not current pieces. The Tom Ford dress, with the ease of a kaftan, is from from Mr Ford’s debut eponymous collection (after he left Gucci) and was worn by Joan Smalls in a Wall Street Journal feature on Mr Ford. While Ms Chua’s styling aims to delight the general public, Mr Khoo’s takes into consideration that there are fashion folks and professionals who pay attention to what our stars wear.

I always think that many stylist dress vicariously through the stars they outfit since the former are unlikely to be guests on the red carpet. This, unfortunately, could result in wearers of their “imaginative talents”—as Mr Wong describes his—looking like they can’t manage the surfeit of stunning-ness, which often includes trains too long, cut-outs too revealing, or heels too high. This year, on the Walk of Fame, newbie actresses, having not worn that much or little fabric, looked like they were playing grown-up in their mothers’ clothes. Backstage, togged-to-the-nines grown-up hosts, led by the over-ebullient Lim Xixi, played cute, behaved like juveniles, and were nothing more than a headache-inducing racket. How their antics augment the fashion statement there were desperately making was beyond my understanding. They were dressed up, but were really empty vessels.

Backstage buddies. From left, Rao Zijie, Tan Yan Wei, Lim Xixi, Shawn Thia, Isabelle Quek, Queenie Lim

Under the guidance of their respective stylists, the stars’ clothes had to seem fashionable, even bordering on the ridiculous. Regene Lim (林詠谊) in vintage H&M eco-friendly dress of 2021, therefore, looked like a luminescent shellfish; JuinTeh (郑惠容), in a strapless top by Malaysian designer Dikson Mah that looked to be crushed aluminum foil, dazzled like a Reynolds Wrap model; Chantelle Ng (黄暄婷), wearing Sportsmax, appeared trapped in a net of a fisherman too poor to mend it; Chen Mei Xin (陈美心), happily attired in Indonesian label Studiomoral, could be a nurse off to sell bedroom wear. I found it hard to see the much-lauded authenticity that celebrities are often advised to embrace when many last night continued to play a role that they were unprepared to.

It didn’t look better for the guys. The harder the fellas tried, the more absurd they looked. It was not only Kenneth Chung who thought ridiculousness was fashionable. Tosh Zhang (张智扬), “inspired by New York in ’70s”, wore a S$161.56 leopard-print, faux-fur coat from Asos, but, on him, it could easily be from Taobao, at half the price. Curiously, he was able to sing and dance in the open air without breaking into a sweat. Outerwear did not only cover Mr Zhang. Ayden Sng appeared in a high-collared Valentino coat as if he was stepping out into the snow, but a deep V-neck top he wore beneath framed a Bvlgari Serpentine necklace against bare skin (I saw several other guys in similar neck jewellery). When a mere chain was not enough, multiple belts could be more striking. Singer Alfred Sun (孙英豪) created an impression of a top with four belts strapped across his torso under his black blazer, like a self-torture device. What was somewhat surprising to me was Nick Teo (张奕恺) in an Alexander McQueen skirt, but it was less so when the bottom had to be manned up with a leather biker jacket above, and pants beneath. One step towards progress, or glamour—not.

Screen shots: mediacorp/YouTube