In a real-life plot twist, local gamer-influencer Genie Yamaguchi traded in her high-score heroics for a less-than-legendary raid on a Don Donki, proving that even a stealth mission for S$600 worth of skincare can’t outsmart CCTVs
For all the glamour that she projects on her socials, one would think that Singaporean influencer Genie Yamaguchi buys and uses luxury make-up, such as the recently launched Louis Vuitton cosmetic line La Beauté, conceived by Pat McGrath. Instead, she was into acquiring goods without pesky transactions at Don Donki. In August last year, Ms Yamaguchi and her friend, Cheryl Lee Suet Keay (李雪恺, Li Xuekai) visited the Japanese discounter’s branch at Orchard Central in the wee hours of a Sunday morning, between 2.30 and 3. Outside, Orchard Road’s pulse had slowed to its usual gentle hum.
In the store, it was bright and it was not busy. The clarity of the massive amounts of merchandise likely excited the shoppers. The two happily helped themselves to some beauty products that included make-up sponges, a lipstick, a brightening essence, and a Sanrio Cinamoroll tote for their bounty, and—as one must always eat on the run—two packs of Hokkaido corn cream pasta, amounting to a grand total of 27 items. They placed the haul into a nondescript trolley and pushed it out of the store. If they had stopped at the cashier, they would have seen the total of S$628.90 on the checkout display.
It is not known if the women knew at the time they left Don Donki what the value of their loot was. Both quickly absconded from the premises, but, unlike seasoned jewel thieves, met up again in Orchard Central. Why they hadn’t moved on was a question that even the complex’s walls couldn’t answer. As fate would have it, they bumped into a Don Donki staffer, who, recognising them (because of their hot looks or their hot goods, it is not known), reported the women to the store manager. He quickly checked the outlet’s CCTVs: The evidence was not so much circumstantial as it was waving a flag and blowing a horn. A police report was made. The shoplifting duo was apprehended a month later.
Not enough is known of Genie Yamaguchi to paint a vivid picture of her. On Instagram, where she has 14,800 followers, the micro-influencer (those with 10,000 to 100,000 followers) described herself as a gamer, a florist that is good with dried flowers, even owner of an aesthetic clinic. In addition, she called herself a “Hedonistic Nihilist”, which sounds like the perfect reason to nick and admit to the crime after she is caught. On her Linkedin page, she shared that she went to CHIJ St Nicholas Girls’s School and after that, graduated from Singapore Management University. She is currently the marketing head at a dental clinic in Orchard Road, about nine kilometres from the scene of the great make-up-aisle heist. She also revealed that she founded a floral company, worked as an account manager, served as “head of marketing” at two companies, and co-founded what could be her first business, the aesthetic clinic.
Around 6.30 this evening, Ms Yamaguchi performed a digital cleanse, going off grid to protect her timeline from herself. Those who have seen her posts would have remembered that she is no different from the other influencers who depend on sexiness for views—as exciting as sushi on a conveyor belt. There is the pout, so full that one lipstick may not be sufficient to cover the full expanse of it; make-up so natural, Barbie would feel fake; and cleavage, so in your face that it should probably be paying rent. It was bespoke content, meticulously crafted—influencer speak to charm the chronically naive. Some online even joked that she was decamping Instagram for OnlyFans!
In court earlier, Ms Yamaguchi appeared in a white, long-sleeved knit top and black slacks, carrying a Jellycat bag in the shape of the Lady Dior, with a plushie dangling from one of the arms. Her laywer lobbied for a significant markdown of her sentence, saying she had compensated Don Donki for the items stolen (only nine of the 27 were retrieved, making the notion of full restitution unclear). The prosecutor requested for her to be assessed for suitability for a Day Reporting Order, a sentence that would require her to turn up at a day reporting centre for monitoring, counselling, and rehabilitation programmes. Many online thought that sounded more like an influencer’s schedule than a court order: Report in the morning and radio frequency therapy in the afternoon. It would not inconvenience her too much.
Note: the court hearing for Cheryl Lee Suet Keay, who faces additional charges apart from theft, is scheduled for a separate day
Photos: genieyamaguchi/Instagram


