Behati is at it again, captivating Chinese New Year celebrants with their absurd, distorted, exaggerated version of Chinese dress. But is there cultural heft or just throwaway exotica. Or, unwelcome horror?

Behati’s indefatigable designer/founder Tan Kel Wen (陳楷文) is always ready—and eager—to put his spin on festive clothes. He likes to play up ethnic designs to maximum effect, turning tacky to terrible. Mr Tan is remarkably not resistant to 传统俗气 (chuantong suqi) or bad trad. He loves to use costume-y silhouettes and details and give them a spin that is synonymous with his passion for extreme exaggeration. Malaysian “beauty mogul” Seri Vida in a 云岭 (yunling or cloud collar) as a dress at Kuala Lumpur Fashion Week 2022 comes to mind. It is, regrettably, not a fond recall. This year, for Chinese New Year, Mr Tan offers a Behati collection that is strong on mining traditional cultural expressions for one that is punk in spirit, the effect is not necessarily as fetching as that could sound.

They are clothes that leave little to the imagination as to what the wearer is celebrating. Titled Behati Revolusi (Revolution in Malay, not, interestingly, the Chinese 革命 [geming]) this season, there is defiance, rather than repudiation of the established aesthetical forms. But oddly, while the silhouettes are post-traditional in their extremeness, the details within them are tenaciously old-fashioned. He has, for example, a weakness for 一字盘扣 (yizi pankou) or the single-bar frog buttons resembling the Chinese character for the numeral one. They are visual assurances that what he designs can be traced to the distant past in the home of the qipao (or cheongsam), also a source of reference for many of his outrageous pieces for women. Frog buttons are used with total abandon, with clear decorative purpose than merely functional.

One garment (above), a man’s top shows how the frog button can be used for no other reason than embellishment. The garment is a total curiosity, too—an Oriental take on the calvary jacket in the oversized shape of the top of the baju Melayu (Malay dress) that has made Behati famous—and Tan Kel Wen, according to one KL industry veteran, “untouchable”—rather than, say, the 袄 (ao or upper garments) of imperial China. But the visually bombastic is his thing. Mr Tan is entrapped in his own reputation as a “king of viral fashion”. His clothes have to jerit (shout), marrying garish kitsch with inherent ethnic showiness. His main platform to advertise his designs is his and his brand’s Instagram accounts. The outfits have to go above social media din. Chinese style for Chinese New Year, therefore, requires the obvious elevated to the ostentatious. Genius.

Mr Tan is also partial to over-dramatised historical sway. He loves drawing from Malaysia’s past (accuracy immaterial), mixed with his own weakness for narrative exaggeration. This season, he chose to direct much of the visuals for Behati’s festive fashion in Malacca (also Melaka), with the reels, oddly, soundtracked by Francis Yip’s 上海滩 (shanghaitan or Shanghai Beach). Was he following the footsteps of Fan Bingbing? Not quite. It is an alternate universe of Hang Tuah and Hang Li Poh (汉丽宝, Han Libao) outfitted in what could make the nation proud at international beauty pageants. As the two historical figures from vastly different backgrounds meet, they share a confluence of styles. Behati plays up the contrasts: 马褂 (Mandarin jackets) and abbreviated 旗袍 (cheongsam) with prints usually associated with the resist-dyeing art of batik. And when in doubt, just slap on more frog buttons.

Mr Tan has always been a hands-on kreatif. On the image front of his brand, he has shot and directed the videos, styled all the clothes and the sets (some used as garments too)—a veritable one-man operation. This season, he has gone further, giving the impression that he also does make-up. In one reel, a model—plonked with a strange turban that had the vague silhouette of a tanjak (a hat worn by Malay men)—is being drawn. As the camera pulls away from the close-up that shows some clumsy brush strokes at work on areas around the eyes and on the lips, it reveals the holder of the tasseled brush—Mr Tan, seated languidly in what looks like a study. The finished effect on the ghostly face appears incomplete. The calligraphic lines are just that. The skewed lips the work of the cock-eyed.

Shortly after that reel was shared today, an SOTD reader texted us with this message: “真的，传统的新年，不传统的新年，都不应该把7月放在一起. Seriously, traditional New Year or not traditional New Year, the 7th month (of the lunar calendar or the Hungry Ghost Festival) should not be placed together.” It is hard to say what Tan Kel Wen, holding that brush, was thinking in his feckless attempt at cultural might and bravado. He is a non-traditionalist, but curiously desires to participate in a centuries-old celebration; he willfully rejects the comely during a festive season that do not welcome the hideous—always considered inauspicious. Perhaps all these social customs must be rejected in the name of kutior. Some people are just better inspired by the 不吉利 (bujili) or the ominous. Behati fans must be elated.

Photos: behati/Instagram