Influencer Implicated

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A China-born Hong Kong Instagram “goddess” was arrested in connection with the murder of fellow influencer Abby Choi. Who is Irene Pun?

Irene Pun, another arrestee in the murder of Abby Choi. Photo: punhuayin/Instagram

There are more plot twists than a homicide thriller, many following the Abby Choi Tin-fung (蔡天凤) murder/mutilation have said. Even if Miss Moorthy Investigates, she’d be stumped. In the latest development of the brutal slaying of Ms Choi, Hong Kong police have arrested an “influencer”, Irene Pun Hau-yin (潘巧贤 or Pan Qiaoxian ), in connection with the gruesome case. Ms Choi’s torso and hands are reportedly still not found, but more suspects have been apprehended. Earlier in the week, a yacht rental agent, Henry Lam (林舜 or Lin Shun) was arraigned and charged with aiding Ms Choi’s ex-husband Alex Kwong Kong-chi (邝港智) to abscond. Ms Pun (pronounced poon), identified as Mr Kwong’s “friend”, had later tried to flee Hong Kong, but was napped in her tracks across the border in Shenzhen (深圳) on 7 March and handed over to Hong Kong police at the Shenzhen Bay checkpoint. The 29-year-old was charged yesterday and released after HK$50,000 (or about S$8,620) bail was posted. When she was in court to hear her indictment, she was, it was enthusiastically reported, shod in Chanel.

That another influencer was in the news has brought the Hong Kong KOL community to a tizzy. Even the entertainment world was abuzz when Ms Pun—her followers consider her to be an “IG天后 (goddess)”—was linked to some of the SAR’s noted stars, including Louis Koo Tin-lok (古天乐, Gu Tianle), Owen Cheung Chun-long (张振朗, Zhang Zhenlang) and singer Kelvin Kwan Chor-yiu (关楚耀, Guan Chuyao), when she posted wefies of the stars and herself on Instagram. Mr Kwan, appearing on her IG page with considerable regularity, is believed to be an old friend. Raised in Canada, he is the son of record producer William Kwan Wai-leun (关维麟, Guan Weilin), who is a close friend of Alan Tam Wing-lun (谭咏麟, Tan Yonglin), also the younger Kwan’s godfather. In 2009, he was arrested in Tokyo for the possession of marijuana together with his then girlfriend, the Korean/Filipino singer Jill Vidal (衛詩, Weisi). Ironically, both had appeared in Hong Kong’s Say No to Drugs campaign of that year. His career did not recover. Last year, the disgraced singer was reported to be reduced to performing in a food court in the resort island of Hainan. After Ms Pun’s arrest, her younger sister Zoe, also considered an influencer, posted a cryptic handwritten message in Chinese that seemed to suggest that her sibling is innocent or that it might be the company she kept that has led to her downfall. None of her famous friends have stood up for her.

Although it is not known how they met, Irene Pun and Henry Lam do not appear to be mere acquaintances. On her IG page, she shared photos of both of them attending various social events, one of them was her birthday party. It is speculated that she knows Mr Lam well and trusted the forty-one-year-old, at least sufficiently to ask him to arrange for her friend, the murder suspect, to flee to Macau. According to Hong Kong’s Mingbao News (明报新闻), on 24 February, after Ms Pun came to know that Mr Kwang had murdered his former wife, she introduced him to Mr Lam, who, as Mingpao stated, is an employee of Air Yacht (优游海洋), a company in Shueng Wan (上环) that charters luxury yachts. Curiously, in a post on Air Yacht’s IG page, which showed a TVB interview from 2020, Mr Lam was introduced as a “共享游艇船主 (literally, ‘shared yacht owner’)”. Ms Pun had posted images on IG of herself aboard boats, enjoying the sea or sunbathing (one, “boating w my gals” in Posatino, Italy) although it is not known if her marine escapades had anything to do with Air Yacht or if she had even met Mr Lam through the company.

Irene Pun outside BV in Ginza, Tokyo last October. Photo: punhuayin/Instagram

After the meeting between Alex Kwong and Henry Lam, a sum of HK$300,000 (according to The Straits Times, HK$100,000) was paid to the latter. It is not known if this was Mr Kwong’s own money. Mr Lam had, by then, worked out the get-away to Macau. The plan was for the escapee to be brought to open seas by speedboat (some reports say yacht) and then transfer him to another vessel before sailing the fellow to the gambling hub of southern China. Ms Pun herself would then find her way across to the mainland, whether to join Mr Kwong, it is not yet known. As Macau is in the picture, there is now speculation that the involvement of Mr Lam is somehow linked to convicted Macau “小赌王, little gambling king” Alvin Chau (周焯华, Zhou Zhuohua), protégé of the famed gangster (尹国驹, Yin Guoju), who Time magazine called “the last godfather of Macau”. In January, Mr Chau was sentenced to 18 years in jail for over 100 charges, according to the BBC (Chinese media reported more than 280). The founder of Suncity Group (太阳集团), he ran what was described as Macau’s largest operator of junkets—trips for mainland Chinese high rollers to the MSAR’s casinos. Online rumours are rife that although Mr Chau is in jail, his organisation behind many criminal activities has not entirely ceased operations. And, somehow, through it, Mr Kwong’s escape would be possible.

Alvin Chau has links to Hong Kong too, especially in entertainment. In the Fragrant Harbour, he had set up Sun Entertainment Culture (太阳娱乐文化), a record label, film company, and management agency, which was once run by Paco Wong Pak-ko (黃柏高 or Huang Bogau), one of the most renowned artiste managers of Hong Kong, a name behind such major Cantopop successes as the late Danny Chan Pak-keung (陈百强) and Sammi Cheng Sau-man (郑秀文). Henry Lam had reportedly called Mr Wong his “入行恩师 (ruhang enshi or mentor)”. He was, therefore, in the entertainment business and had, apparently, been assistant to the singer Ronald Cheng Chung-kei (郑中基), also managed—unsurprisingly—by Paco Wong. According to the news site Singtao (星岛网), he too was once Kelvin Kwan’s assistant at Universal Music (环球唱片). These connections in the Hong Kong entertainment circle led to the speculation that Mr Lam possibly became acquainted with Alvin Chau through Paco Wong, and that he had kept in contact with the gambling king, and was why he wanted to arrange for Alex Kwong to seek refuge in Macau.

As with Henry Lam, how Irene Pun came to know Alex Kwong is not known. There is suggestion that both of them were dating before the murder, but that is yet to be verified. Some reports refer to her as Mr Kwong’s “女朋友 (nupengyou or girlfriend)”. Hong Kong police offered no insight to the nature of their relationship. She has posted on IG images of her and Mr Lam in Macau, often in the gambling hub’s expensive playgrounds. These photographs suggest that both of them are not unfamiliar with Macau. Her fondness for the MSAR (even hashtagging the city when her IG photos are not obvious) may explain her involvement in sending Mr Kwong there. According to the Hong Kong media, she had “claimed [that] she is unemployed”, but Netizens consider keeping oneself visible through social media “a job” and that Mr Kwong was not likely to date a woman of unimpressive means. This would be the second allegedly wealthy IG star that is linked to Mr Kwong. Like Abby Choi, Ms Pun showed herself to be living it up, attending events with celebrities, wearing expensive luxury labels, often shot in different parts of the world. Curiously, both women’s IG posts do not offer images of either of them with Mr Kwong.

Henry Lam and Irene Pun celebrating the latter’s birthday in 2019. Photo: punhauyin/Instagram

Irene Pun was born on 19 September 1993, supposedly in China—exactly where, it is not known. Virtually no information is available about her family or her childhood. Some Hong Kong media reports describe her as a “new immigrant”. But according to her Facebook page, she went to St Margaret’s Co-educational English Secondary Primary School in Kowloon, one of the few institutions that uses English as medium of instruction. After that, she went to Maryknoll Convent, a girl’s school, also in Kowloon, with both primary and secondary education. It is possible that Ms Pun completed her primary school at St Margaret and secondary at Maryknoll, which would suggest that she had arrived in Hong Kong before she was six. Unlike Abby Choi, Ms Pun furthered her studies. First, at California State Polytechnic University, Pomona, a public university in California, but it is not know what she read or if she graduated. Then, she was in the Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising, the same school that winner of the inaugural Singapore Stories competition, Carol Chen (陈慧敏) went to. It is not ascertained if she received her degree. There is no reference on social media of her graduation show or such, except for a post on April 2015, when she shared a photo of a mood board and three pieces of (presumably) her fashion illustrations, with the comment “做project做死 (doing project till death)”. Whether she took a job in fashion after finishing school is not known either.

Apart from her love of dressing up, Ms Pun enjoys cooking and dining in fancy restaurants. She has a separate IG page to (mostly) show off her culinary skill and the places she dined in. Despite being an active social media user, with two accounts on IG alone, she shared almost nothing about her family: less than a handful of her mother (her sister is a tad better: one indistinct photo of her day, a pair of her parents, and some of her mother), with one, posted in 2013, that was an old snapshot of her mom, an undeniably attractive younger self. (As with Abby Choi, she offered no shots with her father.) But online Hong Kong sleuths linked a key figure of the city’s triad and his wife to the influencer, suggesting that the city’s notorious gangster of the ’90s Pan Luanbin (潘銮彬), twice jailed, and spouse Fang Lixia (方丽雯) are Ms Pun’s parents. This has not been verified by the authorities, but the premise of this connection is based on her surname and, the year of her birth, which reportedly coincided with the year that Ms Fang gave birth to her first child (a daughter, no less): 1993. Moreover, she is one of two daughters. Pan Luanbin has two girls, too. Could this be mere happenstance? If this is true, then Ms Pun was born in Hong Kong. But, more pertinent to this girl’s backstory is the source of her income. As with Abby Choi’s real worth, no one can say for sure.

A week before Abby Choi’s murder, Irene Pun was in Seoul with her younger sister Zoe, having a good time, as reflected in the IG posts of both women. It is not reported when she returned to Hong Kong or when she was in touch with Alex Kwong following that. After she was handed to the Hong Kong police on 8 March, Ms Pun was brought back to the apartment she shares with her sister in West Kowloon for the gathering of evidence. Like Abby Choi, she lived in a swanky residential development: The Cullinan (天玺). Hong Kong media describes it as a “luxury private estate”. Only those with deep pockets would be able to afford the sea-view flats that rise above Kowloon Station, a stop on the Airport Express. Real estate websites showed that units here have been selling between HK$20.6 million and HK$57 million. Early reports claimed that Ms Pun’s father runs a bar. That alone, many expressed, would not be able to sustain his daughter’s lavish expenditure, unless, as it has been pointed out, “the father is money-laundering”. As with Abby Choi, those who know Ms Pun has claimed that the latter “只是太善良 (is just too kind)”. But kindness alone cannot explain her criminal actions, however impulsive, or how a woman, not yet 30, could amass the wealth that had fueled her life of extravagance. Even as more suspects were hauled to court, it seems that the can of worms is only being pried open and just the surface is given a peek.

Update (16 March 2023, 10:30): According to Hong Kong media, there is now an eighth suspect. After the police interviewed residents of the flat in Lung Mei Tsuen, where the mutilation or Abby Choi took place, another man is believed to have been on the look out while the hacking of the model’s body took place. Police have not identified the suspect, but Netizens are speculating that it could be Abby Choi’s step brother (born to Ms Choi’s mother the “Fifth Sister” and her second husband). The plot thickens, again.

Provocation Beneath The Prim

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Miu Miu went lady-like. Or so it seemed

Miu Miu has had a good run these past seasons, chalking up considerable social-media exposure with those ultra-mini-skirts, so brief that there were apparently irresistible and must be flaunted. This season, Miuccia Prada walked away from that narrow, horizontal strip of cloth passing off as a skirt and opted for far longer lengths—knee-grazing, in fact. When the first look appeared, it seemed a model of modesty and nudge of neatness. As we examined the ensemble closely (or as closely as our PC screen permitted), there was considerable visual trickery involved. The round-neck cardigan in slate grey was a distraction, not quite a fashion statement. The attention-grabber was below the waist: a sheer, micro-dotted, slim-fit skirt, worn really low. In fact, it appeared to be clinging to the wearer’s hips, exposing the pantyhose, worn high at the waist, where the cardigan was casually tucked, like one would after an unexpected quickie. It helped that the model’s hair was messed up. She trotted urgently on, with a bag carried in the crook of her arm, swinging with comparable urgency. Back to work?

The show was themed Ways of Looking. That could also mean ways of being looked at. But the typical Miu Miu girl—such as those on the front row or Emma Corrin (The Crown) on the runway—probably does not care how anyone looks at her. She is only aware, as she strides on in her kitten heels, of the ways she alone looks at things. Such as how her navel could be exposed, but not quite. Or as Miu Miu explained in their show notes, “the instinctive process of looking, ways of seeing, and how an act of observation can, in turn, transform the object of its focus.” By looking long enough, and the transparent is not? By staring and the discomfiture is gone? Most of the looks Ms Prada sent out could be described as pants-less (even when leggings were worn). In fact, the last three models (Ms Corrin among them) appeared in just plain turtlenecks and crystal-encrusted granny panties. Will the fancy underpants be outerwear when we look hard enough too? Or, perhaps just look intently and the intention could be unintended?

The beauty of this collection was that almost ‘normcore’ clothes (yes, they’re around) could be given a spin and made sexy. That was the shrewdness of Miu Miu (and Prada too). Marketeers like to call such exercises “elevating” the basics. But much of what Miu Miu elevated was hosiery—pulled up high so that they sit above whatever bottom chosen or under more panties, acting like a sheer canvas. That said, panty-baring was very much part of the game. But, you could really turn out these looks with what already exists in your wardrobe. Just pull this down, yank that up. When pant-less was not the effect, the look was decidedly masculine, even hulking (see the jackets). In fact, some male models were used in the show, but whether the clothes were indeed part of a revisited menswear line, it is isn’t clear. Miu Miu reportedly preferred to describe the looks as gender-fluid. Was that why the guys were clothed in women’s cardigans? But négligée styles were very much a part of the line-up too, many embroidered or appliquéd. Would those diaphanous dresses be sold as gender-fluid too?

The show was staged in the Palais d’Iéna (next to the Trocadéro Gardens), constructed in the 1930s, and one of the three buildings that was kept standing after the Universal Exhibition of 1937. Although the palais is noted for its “classical style”, the Miu Miu show space was set up to effect some industrial exposition (or an outdoor concert?), complete with visible aluminum posts of the modular truss system and flat screen monitors suspended above the narrow, raised runway. The looped video shown on the screens was a curious, repetitive, Warholian performance by the Korean artist Jeong Geum-hyung, who, with hands above various garments, was basically caressing herself. All this to the show’s soundtrack of upbeat jazzy tunes. Miu Miu described the artist-provocateur’s act as “examining the relationship between her own body and clothing”. That was indeed one of the Ways of Looking.

Screen shot (top) and photos: Miu Miu

Camellia Crazy At Chanel

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They went big on the bloom, in more ways than one. GWPs out of control

It is not surprising that Virginie Viard turned to the bloom so closely linked to the maison to set the tone for her latest collection. The camellia is, according to the brand, “eternal code of Chanel”. When the time comes (and it does), you turn to the fleuron forever because it is easy and convenient: it’s always there. As it turned out, this is the centennial year of the use of the 16-petal camellia at the house of Chanel. Time to celebrate, but rather than imagine the camellia as, say, a whole bodice, Ms Viard used it as a motif for fabrics and as ornamentation other than brooches or hair clips. The employment is undeniably classic, which is easily euphemism for stodgy. Or, unimaginative. One supposedly novel use of the camellia was to place white blooms in different sizes on black knitted tops (frumpy round-neck cardigans), like random polka-dots! The result was, at best (and regrettably), juvenile.

In contrast, the show was minimal and sleek. It was staged at the Grand Palais Ephémère, the temporary exhibition space (in the park Champ de Mars), erected to stand in for the Grand Palais, practically Chanel’s show home, which is under renovation, in preparation for next year’s Olympics. The set up was simple, but monumental: a really long runway with two circuses on which each, a trio of gigantic camellias sat, front-facing. A black-and-white moving image of Chanel’s “ambassador”, the Japanese actress Nana Komatsu (who attended), was projected on the uncoloured flowers—the petals seemed to be in motion. For the finale, those camellias were lit in red, a striking patina, no doubt. But when the clothes appeared in a row, they had, sadly, less the dramatic impact than the set. In fact, this, to us, was the funniest Chanel collection of recent memory.

Humorous because, well, the outfits were comical. We were not expecting Ms Viard to do anything that might be considered inventive or clever. Boucle jackets with asymmetric hems, for her, could be considered advanced. Some critics have said that she does not vary from a handful of silhouettes. We struggled to count even that many. So it was down to the extraneous to make a giggle-inducing difference. This season, there were the marabou puffs on a vest that looked like pockets and more of them all over a black pullover and skirt. The feathers were even used to trace the outline of Chanel’s resident flower and applied, oversized, all over a sweater! By themselves, the individual pieces of the collection might just be a tad okay if not for the styling. Ingenious meant a gilet over a coat-dress, cardigan with knit shorts, sweaters with lace biker tights (there were many more shorts, in fact)! A cropped jacket was teamed with a pair of knickerbockers. A romper, well-loved garment no doubt, had bloomers for legs. Ms Viard has been partial to styling with a frumpish persuasion, but this season, she went big with it.

And, of course, more camellias! There were leather leis on the lapels of a leather trench, posies for pockets or beaded (single) blooms, 3-D cutouts on a T-shirt, as single petal that dotted a gilet, and repeated patterns (in a grid) for fabrics that were as beguiling as bus flooring. The blooms were woven into the knits, stitched decoratively on a jacket, studded on a denim pantsuit, stitched together like yo-yo quilts, sequined on fabrics already with camellia prints. They framed a neckline so that it looked like a necklace was worn and dot cuffs as if they were giant links. They came as buttons (of course) and as bags, too, but some, oddly, in the shape of balls. They replaced the double-C clasps (or perhaps covered them) on flaps, were edged-out on sheer gloves, and finely patterned on boots. Jelak yet? The sum probably exceeded the quota that, elsewhere, would be considered judicious use. Surely every house limits the profusion of such “codes”? If the camellia was not a cliché before, it sure is now.

Screen shot (top) and photos: Chanel

Indefinable Is Best Kept That Way

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Louis Vuitton waded into a mashup of flat shapes, unusual embellishments, and odd bulks, and they are

Louis Vuitton does not follow a fixed route to where it intends to go with their womenswear, which has worked well in its favour. Each season, the collection looks different from the previous, and indeed, the past. Still, there has always been a numinous quality about them. Nicolas Ghesquière has paved a somewhat erratic path for LV, taking us away from the mundane and the easily-scaled. This season, it’s a similar amble, but one does not encounter familiar characters or see the same scenes. Social media babble post-show asserted that Mr Ghesquière was in defining mode, specifying what “French style” might entail (even when LV has positioned themselves as a global brand). It was not a neat conclusion that he could easily arrive at. As he told the press, a tad anticlimactically, “French style belongs to everyone”. But are there that many who want to own it? Those who have been following his work know that Mr Ghesquière’s approach to design often escapes definition, even adequate or accurate description. If there is one designer who truly marches to his own constantly changing beat, it’s Nicolas Ghesquière.

Musée d’Orsay is the venue of choice for LV’s autumn/winter 2023 season, rather than their much-loved Musée du Louvre, diagonally across the Seine. Once a train station, Musée d’Orsay, on the left bank, is now home to a vast store of 19th century art, particularly the world’s largest collection of Impressionist paintings. Inside the Beaux-Arts building, LV built a runway—a part raised—that mimicked the cobbled streets of Paris. It wound through the audience like a train track in a village town. As the show started, what sounded like outdoor urban sounds, including chatter and birdsong, were picked up. Above this, a verbal introduction of the museum was made, which could have come from an audio guide. Insistent footsteps could be heard as the models walked past. We tried to determine if this was in sync with their purposeful stride; we wondered—in hindsight, foolishly—if tiny microphones were lined along the runway to pick up their tread. There was another perceptible disturbance: flickering and plinking chandeliers and garlanded lights, as if the building was just sputtering to life.

Audio and illuminative distraction aside, the clothes held their own. There were Mr Nicolas Ghesquière’s off-beat silhouettes, but it was what he incorporated within them that was a pull. There are always those who think his shapes are tricky to handle (more than Demna Gvasalia’s?)—perhaps, evidenced by the MediaCorp stars who wore the spring/summer 2023 pieces for the re-show at the Pasir Panjang Power Station last week? Back to Paris, however extreme the shapes, the garments circumscribed by the exaggerated lines composed of parts and details proportionate to the outsized silhouettes. If there was any vestige of French style, Mr Ghesquière certainly warped it. The first look, for example, was a bulgy, pleated, lapel-less blazer worn belted over a open-work dress; it challenged the notion that French girls like a sleek, lean appearance with pronounced shoulders (such as at Saint Laurent?). There was the odd ovoid white collar and suspended tubular sleeves of a dress or the oversized petal sleeves of another that sported one more pair of sleeves that didn’t appear to belong to the main garment. And the pin-striped, sleeveless, V-neck dress with a skirt that looked like a flat isosceles trapezoid.

Illusionary tricks were at play too. Knitted pieces were, in fact, embroidered to look like that. As with other houses, there were treatments of leathers that rendered them appearing less like hides. A leather camel coat was embossed and then printed to make it seem like it was cut from wool. One pinstriped pants—also in leather— was hand-painted and then sequinned in parallel lines. There was almost a couture sensibility in the details (and we’re not just referring to the embroidery), to the extend that we wondered how the finished garments could be offered at retail without astronomical pricing. The show closed with Squid Game’s Jung Ho-Yeon in a black and white, floral-embroidered dress, not unlike the petal-sleeved version we described earlier, but sans the additional covering for the arms. Nicolas Ghesquière made sure there would be items in the store that are irresistible, regardless the cost.

Screen shot (top): Louis Vuitton/YouTube. Photos: gotunway.com

Balenciaga, The “Reset”

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How would Demna Gvasalia undo the damage at the house he revitalised eight years ago? He kept resolutely to fashion, no gimmicks, or so it seemed

That the Balenciaga show was the most anticipated of the staged PFW events was the proverbial understatement. But this time, the expectancy is not for a new designer’s debut. Demna Gvasalia is still holding court. This was, by design, going to be a show like no other in his eight years with Balenciaga. This was a post-scandal, time-to-make-good exercise—redemption. This was, in effect, the maison saying they screwed up and that they were apologetic. The first show since last December’s explosive social media backlash, it was conceived to make peace with those who didn’t wait to jump at the label’s slightest misstep. While it may still be uncool in certain quarters (such as among reality TV stars) to support Balenciaga openly (the brand is certainly missing this film award season, not that Balenciaga is up Michele Yeoh’s now-spotlighted lorong), it was not the case among some stars, the press corps, hopeful business associates, and fervid supporters. This was a well-attended Balenciaga presentation—packed, as if nothing bad had happened before this. Balenciaga, now sans provocation, could possibly be vindicated, but will the past be forgotten, soon enough?

It was the most straightforward of Balenciaga shows under Mr Gvasalia’s watch. None of the theatrics of the snow or the mud of the recent past. This was a vanilla (also the colour) runway production in an exhibition space in Carrousel du Louvre, variously cool-and-then-not PFW show venue under the compounds of the Musée du Louvre that is also a shopping centre. But this is not unusual for Mr Gvasalia who is known to prefer common—even low-brow—locations. There were no sets or snaking configuration of the seating. It could be an ultra-large corporate meeting room. Even that would not be unusual. Last year, a shoot in what appeared to be an actual office landed the brand in trouble. But this time, no incriminating props. In fact, for the collection, Mr Gvasalia stayed clear of the cheesy, the cute, the weird, and concentrated on making extraordinary clothes. It was irony-lite too. And collab-less. Sneaker-bereft. As fashion goes, it was aboveboard. Barefaced Balenciaga, but logotype-free. And the models, the usual motley group that Mr Gvasalia prefers—were seemingly without make-up too (nothing TikTok filters can’t fix later?). On them, the clothes did not appear to go beyond the bounds of what he has brought to the house. Not that Mr Gvasalia stayed away from technique and crafting. Those qualities, in fact, did the talking.

First up was the tailoring or, specifically, the silhouette that has influenced practically everyone and every maison. The jackets were still wildly upsized, the shoulders extended—key in how Mr Gvasalia has been using the shoulder line to influence the jacket’s appearance—and the wider armhole that better kept its body away from the torso. That in themselves would not have been exceptional if not for the suggestion that tailored pants were used to make garments not intended for the waist downwards. The jackets, as well as coats, had waist bands at the hem, complete with belt loops and fastenings (without prong keepers, though), even button holes. As for the trousers or skirts that were teamed with the jackets and coats, they looked like upside-down versions of themselves, with extra legs on each side, flapping as the models walked (we could not see how they were fastened to the main garment). They reminded us of the two-in-one clothings of Y/Project—even their superfluous extras or additional parts were evocative of Comme des Garçons. Had Mr Gvasalia been a tad obvious that his world turned topsy-turvy? Especially after the teddy bears in dominatrix gear? Or, is this how mainstream weird has become?

Others by now considered conventional at Balenciaga included a just-as-oversized denim trucker with a low neckline for the collar or, in the case of other outers (some puffed up to look heaving), brought above the jawline, those fitted tops (interestingly, there were only two hoodies) and leggings, seemingly designed for skinny fellows (but they could easily be unisex), as well as those cover-a-lot, pleated dresses—this time, with what in our part of the world would be considered 水袖 (shuixiu or water sleeves), only theirs did not dust the floor. A couple of dresses had a half-cape on the right that concealed the sleeve and a bag that, for some reason, needed to be conspicuously hidden. There were the noticeably rounded shoulder treatment too, humped ‘pagoda’ that gave the wearer a slight shrug, even an aloofness. “I have decided to go back to my roots in fashion as well as to the roots of Balenciaga, which is making quality clothes — not making image or buzz,” Mr Gvasalia told Vogue recently. This was a show of constructional and engineering finesse or acumen, together with the guile at shifting the attention back to the designs. While the collection might have been emphatic of Balenciaga’s strength, it was hardly radical. It offered no guarantee that Netizens would be applauding and the lines will start to (re)form outside the stores. Let’s hope. Forgiveness is a good thing.

Screen shot (top): Balenciaga. Photos: gorunway.com

Spellbinding Simplicity

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Loewe goes without ornamentation, not a blade of (real) grass, not a single stalk of flower, Oh, just those feathers

Spare is not, as Loewe illustrated in their autumn/winter 2023 collection, nothing. Clean lines are not trimmed of details. The calf-length A-line dresses, as simple as shifts, that opened the show are not quite that straightforward. On the dresses, cut from duchess satin (itself a tricky fabric to handle) and shaped with practically no darts, are over-prints that make you wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you. The singular images are not sharp—the bane of anyone professionally involved in the business of printing. Some looked like faded ’50s house coat florals, a trio evoked the shape of a body sheathed in a dress, one a trench coat (complete with corresponding details printed at the back), and another that could be the result of a prenatal ultrasound scan! And on these, if you look closely, some had strategically placed (but designed to look random) creases on the upper bodice. Clearly a lot of thought had gone into such a simple (sorry, that word again) garment, the various sleeve lengths and shapes and the print placements.

If there is one thing that may work against such technical finesse is that few women will appreciate it. Jonathan Anderson has made these clothes rest on dressmaking of a certain exactness, not logos or any identifiable motifs attributed to brand DNA, and used to death, to stand out. Ironically, it is in the restraint and clearness that Mr Anderson has distinguished Loewe. The show, as before, was in a massive white space, only this time it’s in the 613-year-old Château de Vincennes, once a prison between the 16th to19th century, outside of Paris that predated Château de Versailles. The set, designed by the Italian artist Lara Favaretto, comprised of single-colour, waist-high cubes covered in confetti. They are similar to those in the 2016 installation The Man Who Fell On Earth, a composition that is the total opposite of the other artist-conceived runway at Dior. The clothes, therefore, became the true focus, and just as with Ms Favaretto’s cubes, you couldn’t ignore Mr Anderson’s sculptural purity

It is convenient to describe the collection as ‘normcore’, as some already have. But these are not quite the norm of the staples we see in a fashion consumer’s typical wardrobe. These clothes, we suspect, have far longer staying power. The leather pieces, for example, are not fashioned as leathers usually are. Here, they take on the form of a shirt-dress with a draped side, supple coats with a liquid quality about them, a ‘pullover’ with a fold-over neckline, a shell top with four triangular pieces as part of the bodice (in the rear too), and cropped tops with a sweet primness about them, and those molded dresses and skirts. When it came to knits, more over-printing on the cardigans, and oversized for those as long as dresses that intriguingly clung to the hips. The spareness was even evident in the separates composed of feathers (we assume, for now, that they are real): there was no decorative, frilly arrangement; they take the shape of the garments—blouses, skirts, and trousers. which could be those worn as limbs of beasts with plumage.

It is dispiriting to think that the Loewe collection is “buzz-worthy”, as has been pointed out. Distasteful it is that clothes so carefully considered and deftly designed would be selected by consumers because of the potential buzz they would generate. The Loewe pieces deserve far more than social media attention; they should be admired, bought, and worn. And again. Jonathan Anderson, together with Matthieu Blazy of Bottega Veneta, are probably the only two designers creating compelling clothes circumscribed by what Mr Anderson called “couture classicism”, all in a seemingly normal manner. Perhaps this is the newness because the pieces do not shriek fashion. Now, we wait for Phoebe Philo to join them.

Screen shot (top) and photos: Loewe

March Of The Vogues Of Asia

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Which one is not from this planet, not just this continent?

The covers of the March issues of all the Vogues in Asia. From top row, left: China, Hong Kong, India; Japan, Korea, Philippines; Singapore, Taiwan, and Thailand. Cover photos: Vogue of respective countries

Unique has often been used as convenient euphemism for ugly. But as we have repeatedly pointed out, ugly by definition has changed. What is ugly is not ugly. Similarly, what is unique may be different, but not necessarily exceptional. Existing as the sole example of, say, magazine-cover uniqueness may not be exemplar of creative distinction or courage, candour. In being unlike any other, there is the risk of being bound to conceit—nothing is better than the creator’s singular thinking since his thoughts, ideas, creative process are not like others’, contemporaneous or not. This kind of output can indeed be alienating. The lastest cover of Vogue SG, to us, is.

Photographs are key in the design of a magazine cover. Magazines, being image-driven, depend on good, communicative, aspirational photographs from cover to cover, especially fashion publications. Magazine covers have always been a reflection of the times, the mirror that reflects the aesthetical common, but presented with a point of view; an opinion, as Richard Avedon would have said. A magazine cover also tells the reader what to expect when the pages within are given a chance of perusal. Or to offer a fashion/trend pronouncement. It is usually conceived to draw the curiosity of the like-minded or those with similar taste. Despite the myriad ways of creating images that compel, the imperative is still to appeal to human emotions and desires.

Stefan Sagmeister, a designer who is no stranger to strange magazine covers, said in 2015 at a media event in Melbourne, “a lot of [modernist] designs now make no sense whatsoever… they’re unbelievably stupid and deeply, deeply inhuman.” That could perhaps describe the Vogue SG’s born-again cover (although Mr Sagmeister was referring to architecture, his thoughts are applicable to magazine cover design). When we compared that cover (and the masthead) to the other eight Asian editions of Vogue of this month, the stark difference is obvious and unsettling, so is it’s alien-ness (look at the oddly small, ghostly hands!). The absence of a fashion message aside, there is a clear lack of approachability. The cover is AI-generated, we know. Creativity sans emotional connection. It, therefore, begs the question, “Who on earth is this magazine for?”

A Better Vogue SG?

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Even with a new editor-in-chief, the ‘fashion bible’ continues its love affair with blue skin for their covers. Are they publishing in Pandora?

There is something about blue that editors-in-chief of Vogue SG love. And the ardour must be expressed on the top page of the magazine. For his debut issue, Desmond ‘Monkiepoo’ Lim, who shared the image on Instagram, put an alien on the cover. The humanoid being, named Faye, has not embraced earthly aesthetic conventions although she is ready to partake in one temporal joy: food. She has on make-up that Neytiri on the moon Pandora would call cultural appropriation. Jake Scully would be so peeved, he’d return to earth, thinking the Resources Development Administration was up to something here and that the Na’vi race—indigenous to Pandora—would, again, be under attack so that the RDA could subjugate the moon-dwellers. The blue face is somehow here on our island, at least one of them is. She is among us. And Vogue SG is happy to put her on their cover. The first creature from outer space to grace the magazine in its longer-than-a-century-old history—and among all 27 editions.

A fashion stylist asked us if this is STB’s doing, an early cover to promote next year’s Chingay parade. Why have we not thought of that? The main blurb reads “roots”. Could this be a look at a time when we were costumed. Or, is this tracing back to a genesis that we know not of? Were we a people dressed like the Sakaarans on the trash planet created by the un-aged Grandmaster? According to Marvel, Sakaar “is the collection point for all lost and unloved things”. Is Vogue SG positioning themselves as this assemblage spot? We looked at all the Asian Vogue covers this month—nine of them (we love Vogue Korea’s and Hong Kong’s). None had a model hued blue. We stand out! Are the other Asian EICs laughing at us? Or are they full of admiration, just as they might be with our city-state for being one of the richest countries in the world. This, however, isn’t the title’s first blue-skin cover. On the issue of last May/June, a woman with blue hands and nails partially covered her face. It looked like she was taking a break from working her hands in a vat of indigo dye all day. The fashion message missing then is still lost now.

We looked at all the Asian Vogue covers this month—nine of them. None had a model hued blue. We stand out!

Someone said to us that Vogue SG is reaching out to a new generation. And which might that be? Cerulean children? The latest cover does tell us that the issue is themed “fashion meets AI revolution”. The image is created by the intelligence that is artificial and cold. Vogue SG has been pro-technology and likes illustrating how digital means can be employed to manipulate the images it uses to communicate to the weary, the blasé, and the aloof, and to induce them to buy a copy of the magazine. In tandem with the rise of ChatGPT, the title and its EIC are, perhaps, showing the world that it is truly ahead of the digital curve. But, if there is one thing this cover proves, AI is yet to be better than human touch. Curiously, rather than make a boast of the talents we have here, Mr Lim chooses to work with a Mumbai-based AI artist. Perhaps this ties with his desire to “return to our ‘Roots’ and rediscover who we truly are as South East Asians” (India is not part of SEA), as he declared on IG. And discover we tried, but it has been futile. Besides, what are the chalk-green biscuits on the table? Are they part of our “roots”, too?

Yesterday afternoon, despite the heavy rain, we made a trip to Kinokuniya to get a copy of the magazine. We thought it deserved a quick perusal. Not a copy was seen on the rack. Instead, piles of the last issue, “Renewal”, were there, waiting to be removed and replaced. We returned to the bookstore again this afternoon, and once more, the cover of non-indigenous Faye’s blue visage couldn’t be seen (nor the other two that are part of a triumvirate of covers for this month). We asked a staff if the store was expecting a delivery. She told us she’d check. When she returned, she was extremely apologetic: “the only copy we have is this,” she pointed to the crumpled, stale issue. Do you know when the magazine will arrive? “Oh, I won’t know. We are not notified beforehand.” It is late for a March/April issue, isn’t it? “Yes, it is,” she replied sympathetically. “They are always like that.”

Update (5 March 2023): Vogue SG is still not available on the newsstands, five days after EIC Desmond Lim shared the photo of the cover on IG

Photo: Zhao Xiangji

Best Set At Dior

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It’s hard to say the same about the clothes

While waiting for the Dior autumn/winter 2023 livestream to begin two hours or so earlier, we thought of Abby Choi. If she were alive, it is possible that she might appear on our screen, and we would be able to see her stand before the photo wall, like so many of the guests (such as Jisoo) did, and allow the photographers to happily snap away. This would be totally up Ms Choi’s street: the celebrities, the clothes, the atmosphere, the show. This season, Dior walked away from the old format of a long wall, on which massive paintings or photographs hang, in front of which the models walk; their profile, their side facing the audience seated as if in a gallery. Now, the models seemed to walk randomly, definitely not on a linear path, among the audience clearly not in a gallery. But it wasn’t the route or the dressed up but bored saunterers, or the mostly front rows that beckoned. It was what was above them.

The set was designed by Joana Vasconcelos, the French-born Portuguese artist known for her massive installations of colorful, fertile, pinata-like shapes, usually suspended from the ceiling. For the Dior runway, Ms Vasconcelos created just-as-colourful, wildly-pattern, abstract mammoth of a centrepiece—also hung from above—that could have been pieced together with giant maracas, some with dramatic stalactitical drops beneath. Each rattler-like piece is elaborately patterned. Between them are colour-saturated, cruller-like lengths of fabrics snaking through the installation like ruffled dragons of a dragon dance. This could be some Eastern bazaar; this could also be some fey bandid’s hideaway. But, to Ms Vasconcelos, it was Valkyrie Miss Dior. Could this then be the Valhalla. Where was Odin?

The Dior presentation was likely not intended for any male god, Norse or not; least of all, male gaze. As with all Maria Grazia Chiuri shows, the latest was a visual paean to the females she admired—another women for women celebration. Only this time the celebratory spirit was not in the clothes (they were usually not). Sure, they celebrated the woman’s body, but could there have been more by way of design? There has always been something repetitive about Ms Chiuri’s output. Perhaps these were her ‘signatures’ for the maison, but it’s hard not to say they were on repeat, insistent even. The white shirt and the high-waisted pleated skirt, the shirt and tie and slouchy trousers, the spaghetti-strapped dress, and sheer, panty-showing skirts—they were all there, some in different fabrics, some rumpled this time, but they were there. For sure.

Ms Chiuri has, no doubt, found her groove. And stuck with it. She’s been with Dior for seven years now, longer than most designers not working for their own house. Alessandro Michelle ended a seven-year run at Gucci last year. Analysts thought that Mr Michele had been doing the same thing for too long. “Brand fatigue” was bandied about. Ms Chiuri has not exactly rejuvenated Dior (more Book totes!), even after her fifth year. She makes “classic” clothes with just-as-“classic” silhouettes (more from the ’50s!) that we are often told exactly what women want. Feminine to the nth degree, for the nth time. Not that there is anything inherently wrong with that. But season in, season out of the same things mean one thing—repetitive. Is that why the massive, scene-stealing set was required? So that we would be distracted from the same-same? Clever.

Screen shot (top): Dior/YouTube. Photos: Dior

Moneyed Model Murdered

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Who was the slain, haute couture-wearing Hongkonger Abby Choi?

Abby Choi, wearing Elie Saab, in Paris early this month. Photo: xxabbyc/Instagram

Warning: This post contains description that some readers may find disturbing

She is on the news in Hong Kong daily since last Wednesday when her dismembered body was found in Lung Mei Tsuen (龙尾村), Tai Po (大埔), in the New Territories (新界), north of the SAR. “Reality is more gruesome than fiction” was a repeated comment on Weibo when the news broke. Abby Choi Tin-fung (蔡天凤), a model and an influencer who has been constantly referred to as a socialite, was found mutilated in a mysterious village flat. The grisly murder has been very much covered by the local media, including the discovering by police of cooked body parts, as well as a mincer and an electric saw at the crime scene. According to the South China Morning Post, “body parts were discovered in two soup pots police retrieved” and “two female legs were found in a fridge at the house” in a search that stretch to the Chinese Permanent Cemetery in Tseung Kwan O (将军澳), some 27 kilometres away from the Tai Po. In what has been described as 一家落网 (yijialuowang or one family netted), police have arrested four related individuals in connection with the case: first husband Alex Kwong Kong-chi (邝港智), his elder brother, and their father for murder, as well as their mother for perverting the course of justice. In addition, a “lover” of the father was also arrested. Reportedly, Mr Kwong was apprehended by police while waiting for a speedboat to abscond to the mainland at Tung Chung Pier (东涌码头) on Lantai Island. He was found with cash of HK$500,00 (or about S$85,857) and luxury watches, including a Patek Philippe, all estimated to worth a total of HK$4 million (or about S$686,858).

The backstory to the murder that emerged is, given the consistent glamour that Abby Choi projected, inconsistent with a fashion personality who has been a couture week fixture. In Paris, just this past January, she was seen lavishly dressed at Dior and Chanel, two labels she seemingly adored, as well at the shows of Giambattista Valli, Zuhair Murad, Elie Saab, and the Greek designer Celia Kritharioti. She also attended the Dior and Chanel dinners after the respective presentations. At 28, she was considered one of the youngest customers of French high fashion. Ms Choi loved ultra-feminine styles, and her adoration of all those maisons was not surprising. She was also seen on the front row at the Louis Vuitton men’s presentation, shortly before the start of couture spring/summer 2023 season. And just last Wednesday, Ms Choi shared on Instagram an image of her on the (digital) cover of L’Officiel Monaco. The e-mag described her with considerable enthusiasm as “a fashion icon and media personality who has taken the world by storm with her impeccable sense of style and her unbridled passion for fashion” and “a true trendsetter, with fans from all over the world following her every move”. And on that same day, she was reported missing after she was not contactable the day before. Two days later, police made the gruesome, partly-cooked find.

In Chanel at the Grand Palais Éphémère for the Chanel couture spring 2023 show in January

The flat in a quaint, nondescript four-storey block, where the body parts were found, is believed to have been rented by Ms Choi’s former father-in-law Kwong Kau (邝球) just a few weeks ago. The latest reports state that Kwong Kau’s mistress, a mainlander who works as a masseuse in Sham Shui Po (深水埗), Kowloon (九龙) and is known only by her surname Ng (伍 or wu) to media and Yung Yung (容容) to her customers, was the person who facilitated the rental of the flat. Police believes she also harboured Alex Kwong in another flat in Tsim Sha Tsui (尖沙咀). The rented residence where the dismemberment was carried out sits in a beach-side village—half an hour drive’s from the city centre—that tourists do not generally associate with the gleaming metropolis: verdant surroundings of the New Territories and the Pat Sin Leng (八仙岭 or ridge of the Eight Immortals) mountain range for a backdrop. Those who choose to live here generally prefer to get away from the manic heart of the city or to adopt a seriously quiet life. The village, by many accounts, “look(s) like forever holiday”, and it is in this tranquility that a brutal crime could easily be carried out. Tai Po is, ironically, home to the world’s tallest bronze Goddess of Mercy, and just three kilometres to Lung Mei Tsuen is a river that leads to a plunge pool, known locally as 新娘潭 (xinniangtan) or the Bride’s Pool.

According to the HK news site Mingpao (明报), Ms Choi’s petit body was discovered by the police in parts, separately. Two stainless steel pots found in the unfurnished flat contained a skull in one and bits of ribs, hair, and “small amount of human tissue” amid green and red carrot chunks in the other, as well as soup dregs. According to one Reuters report published after the body parts were found, a refrigerator apparently was where her legs were stored. At the time of this post, Ms Choi’s body was not completely found. Her torso and her hands are reportedly still missing. The police have not explained why searches (two, apparently) were required in the Tseung Kwan O cemetery or if clues pointed them there. It was also revealed that a 6.5 cm by 5.5 cm hole was found on the skull, behind the deceased’s right ear. Followers of Ms Choi on social media cannot reconcile the description of the dismembered body with images of the fashionista/influencer frequently seen on social media or society pages of magazines. “Who hacks a beautiful woman like that?” Or any body? Were the slayers so consumed by rage in whatever Ms Choi did or said to want to murder and mutilate?

The Lung Mei Tsuen flat where the gruesome mutilation took place. Photo: EPA/Shutterstock

Hong Kong news reports posit that the murder was set in irreversible motion by squabbles between Ms Choi and her former in-laws that related to a luxury property in Kadoori Hill (加多利山), a historic-enclave-turned-residential-neighbourhood-of-the-wealthy, south of Kowloon Tong (九龙塘). The hill is named after the prosperous Mizrahi-Jewish Iraqi family that is widely linked to Hong Kong’s oldest hotel The Peninsula in Kowloon. Kadoori Hill scores favourably among the rich—Andy Lau (刘德华) is an esteemed resident—for the many good schools in the area (known as the “Prestigious School District), as well as grand mansions and swanky low-rise flats, earning the area the reputation of the “address of the elite”. It is reported that back in 2019, Ms Choi purchased the disputed Kadoori Hill flat for HK$72.8 million (about S$12.5 million). Full payment was completed three months later, purportedly leaving behind no mortgage records. Her former father-in-law was apparently the name in the sales contract, witnessed by lawyers. It is not certain if this was a gift to the old man, but the media speculated that Ms Choi was trying to save on stamp duty that amounted to HK$7 million (about S$1.2 million). Hong Kong real estate portals estimated that the unit could fetch HK$67 million at current prices.

Her long-time unemployed ex-husband and his family lived in the luxury flat located on up-hill Kadoori Avenue. Most accounts claimed that Ms Choi continued to support Mr Kwong and his family financially even when the marriage was over. Even her brother-in-law, Alex Kwong’s older sibling Anthony Kwong Kong-kit (邝港杰) was employed as her personal driver. It is not known when she and the younger Kwong brother were divorced (common guesses place the year in either 2015 or 2016). She apparently met him in school when she was 15 and married him three years later, in 2012, and bore him two children. It is not known why she chose to wed at such a young age, if her parents agreed to it, or even if she was still in school at that time. Little is also known about her married life or why she chose someone “not her economic equal”, as Netizens had said. The Chinese edition of the BBC shared that Alex Kwong has a criminal record, having been charged in the past for seven counts of theft. China’s Sohu News (搜狐) claims it was fraud that involved deceiving four men into investing HK$5 million (about S$859,022) in a non-existent gold business. He disappeared after receiving the money. Financial crunch and trouble plagued the Kwong family. Both brothers were, at various times, hauled to court for credit card debts that included a purported HK$1.576 million (or about S$270,730) that Alex Kwong owed to American Express. Although their mother Jenny Li Ruixiang (李瑞香) was a retiree, she mysteriously filed for bankruptcy in 2016, presumably due to overwhelming debt. Despite this chronic familial financial debility, Abby Choi continued to support the Kwongs, who probably saw in her their chance to rewrite their fate.

In Dior couture with pal Moka Fang (right) at Ms Choi’s 27th birthday party last year. Photo: Photo: xxabbyc/Instagram

Sometime at the end of last year, Ms Choi made an unexpected decision: she wanted to sell the multi-million Kadoori Hill flat. Apparently her lawyers had told her that she could keep the proceeds of the sale if proof that she had paid for the unit could be produced. The possibility of the Kwongs no longer being able to use an “address of the elite” enraged the family. Ms Choi and her ex-husband reportedly were at loggerheads as a result. According to Hong Kong media, the elder Kwong, also known as 球哥 (kao gor in Cantonese), was infuriated too, and so incensed that one day he threatened his former daughter-in-law: “[如果] 你卖楼，不安置我哋，我会杀你 ([if] you sell the flat and do not find a replacement and settle us down, I will kill you)”. It was not expected that he would carry out his threat. Kwong Kau, who was a former police officer, but resigned after “being involved in a rape case” (he was allegedly the perpetrator, but was not known to have been prosecuted), was noted for his foul temper. Police believed that he plotted the murder based on his knowledge of criminal investigations in the Hong Kong police force, although he had left 18 years ago. The plan was to get Ms Choi to pick her daughter, born to her ex-husband, up from school, but that trip would be intercepted and she would end up in a seven-seater car in which she would be bludgeoned before arriving at the Lung Mei Village flat to be butchered. That part went according to plan. The Chinese have a perfect expression: 谋财害命. To plot and kill for the victim’s property/wealth.

Abby Choi was born in 1994 in Hong Kong to a family believed to be wealthy. The extent of their riches is not established, nor the source. Similarly, there is no mention in the media about her childhood, where she grew up, her teenage years, or her academic pursuits (no information about her school either). But it is said that her parents, business people with commercial interest in China, specifically Hainan Island (海南岛), brought up Ms Choi and two other sisters (both are younger, with the youngest only 17 this year) in a “富裕环境 (fuyuhuanjing) or well-to-do environment”. Her mother, Zhang Yanhua (张燕花), known as 五姐 (wujie) or fifth sister in the mainland, where she’s seemingly based, is from 文昌 (wenchang), a city in the northeast of Hainan Island that is famed for being the ancestral home of the Chinese political figures, the Soong sisters (宋氏三姐妹). Little is known about the mother of the deceased except that she maintains a Douyin (抖音) account and have been, according to mainland Netizens, ‘liking’ commentators’ consolatory messages. She has offered to take care of her grand children in the wake of her daughter’s death. Curiously, there has been no mention of Ms Choi’s father; his identity has not been disclosed.

With Pharrell Williams at a 2018 Chanel party in Hong Kong. Photo: xxabbyc/Instagram

In 2016, Abby Choi, reportedly worth HK$100 million (or about S$17.2 million), married her second husband Chris Tam (Chinese media, including those here, in Hong Kong and Taiwan, refer to him only as Chris), whose father 谭泽均 (Tan Zejun) is behind the popular TamJai Yunnan Mixian (谭仔米线) restaurant chain. Little is known of Mr Tam, but as the heir apparent of his father’s company (until it’s sold in 2017 to Japan’s largest operator of noodles shops Toridoll Holdings), is called “谭仔米线太子爷 (crown prince of TamJai Mixian)”. Although the couple’s nuptial celebration was described by local media as a lavish event, their marriage was, in fact, not registered. They are parents to two children, a boy and a girl. Friends consider Mr Tam a good husband, who is not concerned with his wife’s—in hindsight—complicated past, and loves the two kids born to her and Alex Kwong as if his own. As she found stability in wedded bliss, Ms Choi slowly began her social media career as a fashion influencer. For a social media star, however, she was relatively late in joining Instagram and Facebook. Her first IG post on 12 July 2012 was of a green snake-skin Lady Dior bag, while on FB, it was even later—on 1 January 2017 of herself sunbathing; both posts had no comments. It is not known when she started attending the European fashion weeks, but an IG post in February 2016 showing her at the Dolce & Gabbana show in Milan, which could possibly be her first.

Her social media posts soon showed more expensive fashion (especially in tulle) and, unsurprisingly, celebrities (it isn’t clear if Ms Choi knew them before). In January 2018, there was the pose with Pharrell Williams, who, like Ms Choi, was admirer and guest at a Chanel show (presumably couture, given the date) and the expected after-party. Mr Williams, as well as Ms Choi, probably didn’t know then what laid ahead for the singer. Even Bryan Boy was quick to Tweet that she was “an acquaintance”. One name that was often mentioned this past week is Moka Fang (方媛), Aaron Kwok’s (郭富城) model/influencer wife of six years and mother of his two daughters. Ms Choi, who has been called “温柔 (wenrou)” or gentle by those who know her, has described Ms Fang and her as “情同姐妹 (qingtong jiemei or deeply close sisters)”. Both women do look rather alike, with their straight, long hair; bright almond-shaped eyes; delicate lips; and pointed chins. The two friends were known to attend fashion events in Hong Kong together although, interestingly, there are practically no photos of the duo in Ms Fang’s IG page. In a recent IG post of a black-and-white photo of a white rose, Ms Fang wrote in Chinese: “Feeling extremely sad. For now, still can’t accept this as fact. The sadness in my heart is unspeakable; there are only a thousand whys. The great sorrow still can’t be subdued.” Reality is more gruesome than fiction.

Gucci: Until They Start Afresh

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In the mean time, trashy will do

If there is any brand in need of evidence that a house cannot be without a creative director, they should look at Gucci. The autumn/winter 2023 collection, shown earlier, was put together by the members of the design studio. They took the customary bow at the end of the show. Did 21 of them—a motley bunch with different tastes—sense, as we did, that this was not the roaring applause that Gucci usually received? Thirty minutes after the livestream, we were still in a state of disbelief. To be certain that we were not over-reacting, we showed some screen shots to a Gucci fan. She didn’t conceal her shock: “Eeeee… where got Gucci like that, one?” We, too, wondered. We’ll be the first to admit that after Alessandro Michele’s first few season, after he became too sure of himself and too carried away with the collections, we lost any sense of joy in his collections, even when the rest of the world raved and raved, and raved. But, this was exceptionally… bad.

We know, of course, that Gucci will have a new CD on board. Nothing could be gleaned from the latest show that could inform us what Sabato De Sarno will bring to the house. Mr De Sarno, whose appointment was announced just a month ago, would not be presenting his debut collection until September, during the fall season. Or, as Kering said earlier, until he has “completed all his obligations”. Eager press reports already excitedly proclaimed that “a new era at Gucci has begun”. So what was it that we saw; what was that really about? Why did Gucci even bother with this show? Could they not have skipped a season? Take a clean break? Do these tawdry clothes deserve a runway or would they be better placed in a Sam Smith music video? Or was Gucci hoping that a bevy of influencers, placed in the middle of the show space in two circular pits, would give the clothes the approval/endorsement needed? The opening look—a tiny metallic-chain bra sporting the brand’s interlocking Gs, worn with a long, slim, black skirt, made less of a hobble with a gaping slit in the rear—immediately raised that question and others. But by the end of the show, there was no answer.

It is hard to imagine that this would be expected of Mr De Sarno, whose credentials include roles at Prada and current work at Valentino. We like to think that the startling level of tackiness is the result of the lack of leadership. That was why sleazy dresses in the vein of the naked dress presided. Or why a strapped bandeau had to show the wearer’s nipples. Or, why indeed there were so many sheer these and those. Try imagining Harry Styles in any of these dresses. And, appear on another cover of Vogue. To be sure, Alessandro Michele did not stay clear of the diaphanous, but it was not this crude. If the transitional team attempted something more conservative and tailored, the effect was a pathetic imitation of early Balenciaga under the then newly celebrated Demna Gvasalia. Or Louis Vuitton when an odd panier skirt curiosity appeared. Editing, always advantageous when design output is rojak, somehow stayed elsewhere.

It appeared that Gucci was keeping the spirit, if not legacy of Mr Michele alive, even if his departure was what they needed to reinvigorate the brand. No palate cleanser in the offering. Cheap-looking pervaded. With such a meretricious collection, it seriously boggled the mind how these clothes will sell out. Or in sufficient numbers to justify their existence. With these pieces, can they really drive the droves to the their stores, now increasingly missing the front-door queues? Perhaps Gucci was hoping that the accessories would be crowd-pullers, as they have been, and sell like the proverbial hot cakes. But what was exceptional? Or investment-worthy? The clutch with the oversized horse-bit strap? The massive and furry boots? The gloves that covered only the fingers? The earrings that were so long that they were knee-dusters? Perhaps even the hosiery? For now, we’ll just say pass.

Screen shot (top) and photos: Gucci

Season Of Skirts

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Prada goes from pencil to circle. All with gravitas and gallantry

Who’d send out on the runway a first look with a predominance of a white skirt except Prada? An unsexy ankle-length?Not high-waisted? And a plain grey sweater to go with that? And no accessory, not even a bag? But flat pumps with origami-like flaps? Prada had no qualms in allowing the fewest essential to be in the spotlight, to be held up to scrutiny and, consequently, be admired. There were no statement pieces (perhaps, the skirts?), not that Prada does not make statements. It’s just that they are usually less proclamations than propositions. Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons are not inclined to putting a loud-hailer to their designs. That white skirt (yes, we were taken with it) is not extraordinary in shape, but the sheer overlay on which floral-patterned medallion cut-outs, like Chinese 剪紙 (jianzhi or paper cutting), were neatly appliqued in a grid, did focus one’s attention on it. That it looked like giant motile cells added to its pull. Just one skirt.

Perhaps it was the bareness of the runway that allowed us to focus on what was coming down it. The show was, as before, held at the brand’s own space, the Fondazione Prada. Only existing pillars, painted in what could be traffic orange, could be considered sets. But as the show proceeded, floral casings—in white blooms and green foliage—slid down, as if a bridal show was to unfold. We were enthralled by the soundtrack too: First, a menacing industrial growl/hum, and then Roxy Music’s In Every Dream Home a Heartache, a brief transition of Vangelis’s electronic Spiral, before The Kinks’s I Go To Sleep. And then, totally unexpected was The Blue Danube waltz by Johann Strauss! Was the highly mixed genre (which, to us reflected more Mr Simons’s taste than the maison’s) a reflection of the no-fixed theme of the collection? Sure, the show notes mentioned, menswear, uniforms, and, er, wedding dresses—did these explain those white skirts? And the floral display?

Prada has, of course, been a proponent of uniforms for as long as we can remember their RTW. And their revisit this season was not unusual, and far from groundbreaking. But then Ms Prada and Mr Simons were not limited by what the need for uniforms usually entails—specific functions or the enhancement of unity. So they could, for instance, mix the military with the nuptial, not that both recognisable aesthetics appeared glaringly in one outfit. But a tad subversive it was of the pairing of a hint of bridal dress (that skirt!) with the noticeably military (that sweater!). Celebratory meets utility. There was also placing of work shirts—the type a commercial pilot might wear—atop mini skirts with folded or draped panels. Or those not at odds with the SAF’s No.2 dress, just with delightfully oversized epaulettes, and teamed with high-waisted skinny(!) pants. There were, too, very-Prada details elsewhere: flapping trains (even on printed, body-skimming dresses Anna Wintour would quickly place an order, but she very likely, too, would ask the train to be chopped), detachable collars (bi-coloured!) to go with oversized blazers (in case you wished to wear them alone), and the new spot for the Prada logo-plaque—on the white skirts, to the left, at hip level.

The beauty of Prada is that they don’t complicate things. They let their sense of proportion, control, and colour come through unambiguously. You know what you are seeing. Off-beat details are there to throw the orderliness, even neatness, off balance. Deconstructionism is not their urgent story (never have), but tilting the kilter is. The symmetry is so until you see a distraction. Yet, the distraction is not, well, distracting. The simplicity is still preserved, enhanced, beautified. Some people might think that we’re bias, eager to point out the restraint and directness of others, but not Prada’s. For avid followers of Prada (and we know there are many), that requires no defending. We’ve often been told that Prada isn’t for many women, not their sisters, or mothers. Perhaps, therein lies their immense charm.