Guys and their stories were lapped up this year, leaving us with a different flavor profile—they didn’t just join the conversation; they became the headline

While some think the biggest news of the year is the shutting down of Hooters in Clark Quay after 30 years here, many others think not. The departure of the ‘breastaurant’ next January marks the end of a needlessly phallo-centric era in the scene of our nightlife. Yet, this retreat from titillation for male customers in Clark Quay hasn’t translated to our screens. Of the top ten views of 2025, only two stories were about women, the rest, men. For the first time in our 12-year history, what the fellas have embroiled themselves in (with a side serving of fashion) sent total views of the past twelve months to a new, all-time high—a 28% increase over the previous. A significant milestone.

It turns out, however, that clicking on a male story doesn’t mean you’re applauding his choices, certainly not in the case of the winner of the FIFA Peace Prize, Donald Trump. But it has been less locker room talk and more about how, despite their expensive threads or nascent clothing brands, fashion has failed many of them. In the case of one Malaysian scrubs-wearing doctor Wong Lu Yang out for a tryst, it was social media that ended up scrubbing his shenanigans out of the realm of public sympathy. Even in Kota Bharu, it seems, an Asian McDreamy can lurk behind the medical garb, proving that a clean uniform can’t save a sullied reputation.

In the case of one Malaysian scrubs-wearing doctor Wong Lu Yang out for a tryst, it was social media that ended up scrubbing his shenanigans out of the realm of public sympathy

Planting a flag near the summit of the Top 10 is an old story from 2023, with new teeth: The Malaysian-born, Thom Browne-wearing tycoon and husband of Club 21’s Christina Ong, Ong Beng Seng, who saw his vast hotel-retail empire eclipsed by his arrest in Singapore’s major graft probe. But fascination with the fellas isn’t limited to the boardroom. Elsewhere, men arouse interest through sheer stylistic cognitive dissonance: Kash Patel, head of the FBI, with his unurprisingly tame clothing label, and Chanel-clad G-Dragon, whose auntie aesthetic blends feminine pieces with offbeat styling to reaffirm his predilection for oscillating between youthful star and mature fashion icon. Then there is Muji’s deployment of Takeshi Kaneshiro; by using the former actor in their ads, they managed to keep him as reclusive as ever—a 男神 (nanshen or male god) hidden in plain sight. Some men find themselves; others prefer to stay lost.

Camping out in the penthouse of our metrics are two women, both with influencing as job scope. Receiving the most views is Genie Yamaguchi, the chiobu gamer who decided that buying without paying was more fun; her 2.30 a.m. spin at Don Donki nearly netted her S$628.90 worth of cosmetics and snacks, but instead earned her an electronic tag. Right behind is the demise of Duck, shuttered by one-time owner, the blogger extraordinaire Vivy Yusof, who, while waiting for her RM8 million CBT trial, regaled her followers with accounts of how hard life has become since she was charged. Most of us live life as is; others storyboard theirs according to a whim to swipe at a general store or a content calendar in which going to court for the approval of a new bailor is a series finale nobody asked for.

Then there is Muji’s deployment of Takeshi Kaneshiro; by using the former actor in their ads, they managed to keep him as reclusive as ever—a 男神 (nanshen or male god) hidden in plain sight

In the past months, we’ve been asked—with increasing frequency—whether we’ve waded into the political swamp. Honestly, we’d be doing a massive disservice to the truth if we pretended our Burberry Wellies were dry. Politics—specifically the American variety—is currently monopolisng the murky waters. It’s a brand that has seen ‘We the People’ whittled down to ‘I the Person’. A quiet president is as rare as a pardoned turkey harbouring a secret. It is, therefore, tempting to see beyond the lumpy suits and a dejected red tie, and uncover something belligerent, even sinister. In fact, many of the key figures of the Trump administration, especially Karoline Leavitt. are low-hanging fruit, dangling from a very short tree. No cherry picking required. But each reaction of ours has always been what caught our attention in the first place—the sartorial mishaps.

When we dissect these clothing choices, we aren’t merely nitpicking a design blunder, a wearer’s blindness, or the blight of wearing a foreign label alongside ‘America First’ posturing. We are documenting visual rhetoric. In an era where optics are engineered to the millimetre, a sartorial choice is a policy statement. To ignore the clothing of the most powerful people on earth, however unfortunate the choices might have been, would be to ignore half of the conversation they imagine having with us. When Made-in-China appears behind the rostrum in the White House, it’s also an aperture into the global supply chain crisis. Tariffs, immigration, and trade wars aren’t abstract concepts; they are the forces that dictate what fabrics are available, who sews them, and, crucially, how much they cost all of us at the physical cashier and online checkout. As Madonna once sang, and she is still not wrong, “You know that we are living in a material world.”