Pseudo-models for Pseudo-book fair

Published at the Libertines Pub, Hong Kong

Last week the Trade Development Council lifted the ban of teen models, which was proposed earlier, from its book fair in July under the pressure of the models’ publishers. However, book-signing sessions are still not allowed because the council argued that the models’ risque photo books are of bad taste and too vulgar, which contradicts the fair’s image as being family oriented. They don’t want the chicks to hijack such significant cultural event as they did last year.

I can’t help worrying about the fair if it no longer allows some boob-flashing and legs-flaunting from the bikini-clad models. Who would then pay to see the show? Booklovers? Well, as an old-fashioned booklover who insists on 15-minute bedtime reading every night, I don’t feel the urge to cram myself into the venue to see Haruki Murakami or Stephen Fry for real. I am drawn to their writing talents, not their physical looks and autographs. Besides, most people nowadays just read everything from the Internet and their iPhones. Or worse, they don’t read, they watch videos. Taking a long way to Wan Chai and paying a fee to read something new is so 1990s. Only some jaw-dropping cleavages would provide enough incentives for lads to bother.

Watching My Footprint

Published at the Libertine's Pub, Hong Kong

Last week we were so obsessed with mourning, fighting and cheering for our Goddess of Democracy that we forgot there was another big event happening, which is much more central to our survival – The Air-Conditioning Free Day on June 1.

According to the website of the environmental organization Footprint, 234 schools and a number of unnamed environmentalists had participated in the event with the hope of raising the awareness of reducing carbon footprint. You may wonder why such a meaningful and non-controversial event got such low exposure comparing to the Earth Hour or the Car Free Day. One reason is that our Secretary for the Environment might be too busy doing the laundry for another weekend out in his reusable Act Now t-shirt. Another possible reason is that the act of turning off the air conditioner is not as visual as turning off the lights or making an appearance on the MTR to declare oneself car-free, which provides little incentives for large corporations and government officials to act on, as they could no longer show to the press how environmental-friendly and socially responsible they are, even for just one day.

Cultural shock at my hometown

Published at the Libertines Pub, Hong Kong

Frankly, I really enjoy reading our gweilo libertine Wes’ posts on his expat rage in the Hi-Tech Village. Maybe it’s nothing new to our expat readers, but it’s always amusing to see how things I take for granted can cause so much shock and confusion to our beloved expats.

At the same time, I keep being shocked by the non-Hongkie culture at where I work, our CBD Central. I used to feel comfortable to live and work in the New Territories and Kowloon. However, in Central, every day lies a new adventure. First, I have to overcome the language barrier. Whenever I walk in the streets of Central, the only language I hear is either English or Putonghua, or worse, the expats speak better Putonghua and the Mainlanders speak better English than me. Perhaps Na’vi is more frequently spoken than my mother tongue Cantonese here.

Second, not only we locals are expected to make eye contact with strangers, as Wes suggested, we also have to prepare ourselves to talk to them, which is contrary to my mum’s teachings since I was a baby girl. No matter you’re rushing to your office, drowsily waiting for the pick-you-up cappuccino, or simply checking out the gossip magazines at the newsstand, some English-speaking strangers would come over and say hello as if they were your old friend. To look more “Western” and less like a Villager, I’m always up for the small talk until it’s close to 2pm and I got to go.

Our Double Standard of Morality

Published at the Libertines Pub, Hong Kong

As probably the most “right” member in a suspected Commie group, I can understand why decriminalization of drugs sounds an attractive idea. As you know, some of my mates claim themselves to be musicians. Music without drugs is like French films without sex scenes and the banking industry without overpriced chain store coffee. Ray Charles, Rolling Stones and Amy Winehouse may not have produced such genius music with substance had they not relied on some substance in some way. In fact, thanks to cocaine, an ex-fiancee of a rock star, Kate Moss, remains as a fashion icon for decades with her never fully conscious and skinny look.

However, as appealing as the idea can be, the chance of success is destined to be doomed. It may work in Europe, but never in my hometown the High-Tech Village.

Why? Because we Villagers have no problems in showing our double standard of morality, as soon as it involves a member of our family.

We don’t mind Tiger Woods cheating because he’s just being human. But if our husbands and boyfriends cheat? We want to give death penalty.

We fancy chasing jail baits because what they are hinting is just consensual sex. But if they are our daughters? We want to lock either them or the boys up.

On Gender Equality at Workplace

Published at the Libertines Pub, Hong Kong

Let me make myself clear first in case someone suspects I’m a man: I hate that when women are paid less than men for the same kind of work. I hate that when people don’t take young women seriously because they bother to dress and groom nicely for work (to look “professional” somewhat means you have to desexualize yourself by wearing dark trouser suits and trimming your hair short, or at least putting it up). I also hate that when senior male executives make use of their position to pressurize their junior female colleagues into contributing to their sexual rejuvenation, be it faking laughs for their lame jokes (Ha-ha-ha), an “innocent” dinner for two or something more. And thanks to my career confidence, I’m always able to put up an indifferent blank face to such kind of invitations. Life is too short to worry about whether someone has crossed the line.

However, to assess gender equality by way of counting the number of men and women in certain industry, or in certain level of management, often becomes a misplacement of fact and value judgment. Take the construction industry for example, it’s a global phenomenon that male construction workers and engineers are far more than their female counterparts. Does it mean the industry has been barring equally qualified women from the industry because of their sex? What about it’s just a fact? Just a fact that qualified women for construction work happen to be less than men. Same applies to scientists and footballers. Feminists’ approach to place value judgment on the head count and conclude that males have been dominating the industry and scaring off women is like saying the drawing machine of Mark Six favours the particular 6 numbers and discriminates against the other 43.

In addition, what about women are just not that into certain industries, instead of being dominated or suppressed or enslaved by patriarchy as claimed by feminists?

The bads about not being a Catholic

Published at the Libertines Pub, Hong Kong


Recently, a weird phenomenon happens to a couple of my girlfriends. They suddenly converted to Catholicism with no early signs of being religious. They apparently did the you-know-what forbidden but enjoyable deed long ago. And within six months of their conversion, coincidentally, they end up exchanging vows with their fiancé before a big wooden cross hanging in a glass-laden high-ceiling greenhouse called church. The wedding scene is so sacred and beautiful that I always remember to shed some tears.

Admittedly, part of the tears are shed for the fact that I’m not going to get wed in a church, not like what the princesses did in fairy tales or what Dustin Hoffman tried to interrupt in The Graduate.

My jealousy is doubled by the fact that my newly Catholic girlfriends are married to sons from well-to-do Catholic families, one of them a doctor, the other a lawyer, then an heir to a family business. No matter how education and feminism tell us women to be independent and have it all, the talent of equating forever love with financial security (reads riches for high maintenance women) is still deeply rooted in our genes.

Being Asian makes you a 10

Published at the Libertines Pub, Hong Kong

When it comes to desirability in terms of race, I always heard Aisan girls and white guys are most wanted, and both tend to be attracted to each other.

Well, I was brought up in Hong Kong and none of my friends known from childhood, i.e. the most traditional Asian girls, ever got a white boyfriend or just a white guy friend in their life. They dress like ordinary Kong-girls, in baggy outfit, without makeup and probably in spectacles. They seldom need to speak English in their daily life, only read local gossip magazines and watch Cantonese soap opera. They are shy to meet new people, and usually knew their boyfriends from study or work. Once they got a boyfriend, they usually stick to the traditional Chinese romantic formula: develop a long-term sexually-exclusive relationship with him and get married.

The above proposition only comes to mind when I begin my work and after-work life in Central, where East truly meets West and the first language is English.