Who does not love a glitzy yarn?

When it comes to the glittering but limited ‘couture’ offerings on our island, the narratives are mostly spun with care. The Instagram reel has, therefore, become the ultimate loom. Or spindle, more potent than what Sleeping Beauty used to seal her fate. It can also be an all-seeing backroom view of what goes into the making of those more-is-more masterpieces sold as custom gowns. So when the well-loved Singaporean couturier Frederick Lee recently graced our feed hours ago with a fleeting display of sequin work on a traditional bridal kwa or the 裙褂 (qungua), the collective gasp was almost audible. The shimmer, the precision, and the very intimacy of manual skill were a tour de force in visual poetry!

Except, if you give it more than a passing glance, a faint, almost imperceptible discord hummed beneath the sequinned surface. There is much to admire about Mr Lee. He operates a small atelier, draws diligently, designs with passion, stitches obsessively; he does everything alone. You do not ever see him surrounded by a throng of assistants. And it is the same on the latest IG real, which was accompanied by his educative comments—the “hours of painstaking attention to details… to give these intricate works of craftmanship (sic) a new purpose in the wardrobe of a Bride with traditional heritage at heart.” He described the work he did as “fatiguing and exhausting” and exclaimed: “I’m totally shagged out ! (sic)”

There is much to admire about Mr Lee. He operates a small atelier, draws diligently, designs with passion, stitches obsessively; he does everything alone

It is always inspirational to see designers achieve peak enervating high or being a true martyr to their craft. On social media, Mr Lee has always preferred the scenic route to his decorative work, so as to better illustrate his energy-zapping commitment. The IG reel, it can be said, was attention-grabbing: fingers deftly manipulating iridescent discs, ample light catching every movement, the promise of bespoke artistry unfolding before us. Yet, the backdrop, for all its artful blur and conveniently perfect lighting, whispered something else. It did not look like Mr Lee’s usual workroom. There were two racks, one above the other, both packed with what appeared to be completed kwas sheathed in clear garment bags. It could, of course, be Mr Lee’s Batcave we known not of.

Five days ago, Mr Lee announced on IG that he was in Guangzhou. He did not say what he was doing there, but it is likely that he was in the city on a sourcing trip. In at least five posts before the latest, he showed the meals he had, the homestay where he put himself up, and a massage he visibly enjoyed. It is possible that in the kwa video, he hadn’t quite departed from Guangzhou yet. It is tempting to believe that the back-breaking work done was in the workshop of a kwa retailer in the southern port city. Mr Lee did not say that he personally committed to the “hours of painstaking attention to details” that befits his stature as our island’s most esteemed couturier. But he did say in his parting shot: “I’m totally shagged out”. For some, watching can be stamina-testing.

This juxtaposition, then, prompts a ponder: Is the reel a heartfelt testament to Mr Lee’s personal dedication to every sequin and every stitch, a true peek into his daily grind with decorative bits on cloth? Or is it, rather, a beautifully choreographed performance designed to evoke a particular emotional response—to marvel at artisanal purity and singular devotion, even if for the smartphone lens? While Mr Lee, dressed in all-black, appeared to stich the sequins, other frames in the reel showed actual hand-sewing by a different person, who was in a black and white tee of vertical stripes. Could his enlightening reel of skill require a shoot that spreads over two different occasions?

Guangzhou is a known centre in China’s massive garment-production supply chain for practically everything that designers need. It is not clear why Mr Lee has gone all the way there just to embellish a bridal outfit at a facility not his. Or is it the proverbial gilding of the lily, or, in this case, a lianhua (莲花), lotus flower? It is hard to say conclusively if the embroidery Frederick Lee showed was entirely done by his very own hands. In an age where brand storytelling often eclipses raw reality, where the perception of authenticity can be more potent than authenticity itself, it is truly hard to say. Digital sleights of hand that maintain the romantic narrative of the lone artist, even as the global supply chain hums along, is ever compelling. Doubt the frames set-up for optimal likes, but it’s a stitch to end.

Screen shot: frederickleecouture/Instagram