Archive for October, 2006

A Night at La Queer

Sunday, October 29th, 2006

So I end up in the latest gay joint in town on Halloween night. It’s called La Queen (can it possibly have a campier name?).

When we get there at 11pm, it’s not exactly full house yet but I can already see that 95% of the patrons are male. I’m surrounded by good-looking men. Too bad they’re all queer.

No one has bothered dressing up for Halloween except for the club’s staff, although I do see a guy with a pair of angel wings strapped to the back of his super-tight white tank.

The decor is minimal, except for some feather boas (camp) and umbrellas (huh?) that are hanging from the ceiling. The bar is hardly ever crowded, like in other clubs, because you can always depend on gay men to do more dancing than drinking. It’s no wonder the drinks are horribly watered down. Even the white wine my friend ordered tasted like water, that is it to say it had no taste.

And I love this - there’s a little corner selling t-shirts, tanks and shorts near the entrance. Shopping and clubbing, how clever. They have t-shirts with cute or suggestive phrases like: Plow Boy, F*ck Buddy and Tight End (cue raised eyebrows). There was a really cute one that said Lifeguard. "Imagine the pick up lines you’ll get," I say to my friend. "Excuse me, do you administer mouth to mouth?"

"They come in S, M and L," the sales assistant tells us.

More like S, XS and F*cking Small, I think to myself as I look at a t-shirt I would have trouble getting into.

So after browsing through the racks, we make our way to the dancefloor.

Spinning on deck is hard house with a liberal dose of dance remixes. Every time the DJ plays a Madonna song, everyone cheers and packs the dancefloor. I don’t think there are any other females, except for two decidedly lesbian-looking chicks, one of whom my friend says is "so checking you out". Everywhere I turn, there are men with nice hair and toned bodies. I don’t think there is anyone without a gym membership here.

Some guys decide to whip off their t-shirts which seems to set off a chain reaction. A whole group dancing near us decide to go topless and tuck their shirts into the back of their jeans, so they wave about like pony tails as they gyrate.

This is why I love gay clubs. Besides the fact that no one attempts to pick me up, I also get to ogle men shamelessly. Haha.

"Ah bengs," my friend sniffs at the topless group. "Although their bodies are not bad, hmm…" He looks them up and down.

I laugh and dance the rest of the night away, the only girl on the dancefloor.

The Celebrity Pitch

Saturday, October 28th, 2006

Once upon a time, supermodels reigned supreme. They stared vacuously at us from print ads and magazine covers, and some even became such big household names that they publicly declared they wouldn’t get out of bed for less than $10,000 a day (Linda Evangelista famously said that).

How times have changed.

Now you can hardly flip through a fashion magazine without seeing a movie star, a hot new pop act or a young tennis sensation pushing everything from lipstick to lingerie. Even Vogue, the bible for every self-respecting fashionista, has a celebrity on its cover more often that not these days.

Since when was the last time you came across a luxury watch ad with an unknown face? Celebrity endorsements are nothing new but it seems that even designer labels, which have traditionally embraced pouty-lipped waifs, have shown an increasing preference to use celebrities in their advertising campaigns. Uma Thurman and Nicole Kidman smoulder in the ads for Louis Vuitton and Chanel, respectively. Undoubtedly under contracts lucrative enough to enable them to buy a small island somewhere off the coast of Tahiti and modestly refer to it as their holiday home.

A designer was once quoted as saying that he preferred to work with models as they were like blank canvases on which an artist could splash his colours. At least their personalities will never overshadow the brand and they will never carry with them the tacky taint of tabloid gossip. Well, with the exception of Naomi “Damn, missed another anger management class” Campbell.

When Carolyn Murphy was signed on to replace Elizabeth Hurley as the new face of Estee Lauder Cosmetics, some said that it was because at age 36, Liz was considered too old. But mostly, the rumour being circulated was that it was all due to Liz’s chaotic love life being constant tabloid fodder that the cosmetics company was keen to dissociate itself from.

Fresher in recent memory, Kate Moss was dropped as the face of several fashion houses after a drugs scandal that was well-publicised in the media. Of course, she’s bounced back with a vengeance since then, appearing in new ad campaigns for some of the very brands that initially tried to distance themselves from her by denouncing her use of drugs. Clearly, they have a short-term memory. Kate1_2

What helps Kate though is the fact that she is one of the rare models who have successfully propelled themselves into the celebrity stratosphere, becoming a household name and an instantly recognizable face. And Calvin Klein could hardly care less what Kate snorts and who she snogs in her free time, as long as she helps move jeans off the shelves.

That just pretty much sums up the attitude of companies these days.

Back then, one had to have a squeaky clean image in order to endorse a brand. But as counterculture becomes more acceptable in modern society, so does its icons.

But the question is, as an advertising or PR practitioner, why sign on celebrities to endorse your brand, especially with so much money involved and so much at stake? When Britney Spears was signed by Pepsi, she negligently bit the hand that fed by being seen in public on numerous occasions with a can of Coke in her hand.

Well, it’s undeniable that a celebrity makes an immediate impact. In a world where we’re constantly deluged by a glut of ads in every medium, having a celebrity helps an ad stand out from all the clutter.

And then there’s the power of association – a brand can leverage on the celebrity’s image in the hopes that whatever positive qualities he/she possesses may be transferred to the brand. But of course that doesn’t mean signing up someone just because he/she is famous.

Credibility is an important criteria and the endorser should ideally represent the brand values. Amber Chia endorsing laptops? She may have been Malaysia’s It girl at one point but the fact is, I don’t can’t see her using a laptop. I really can’t see her sitting at some Starbucks with her laptop, working on an Excel sheet. It’s not believable. Why not Hannah Tan, who is some sort of financial consultant when she’s not preening for the cameras? Or even Arianna Teoh, a mother and businesswoman who’s always on the go? Makes sense for them to have a laptop, no?

Of course, you might think, ‘I don’t give a rat’s ass who’s in the ad because I can’t be influenced to buy a product that easily. I decide for myself what to buy.’ Think again.

For instance, take Kate Moss, who is frequently heralded as a style icon. She has an intrinsic coolness that translates to her dressing and this is why fashion brands are so eager to sign her on. She makes high fashion seem accessible to the regular working woman. I credit Kate Moss for reviving Burberry at a time when it was ailing and considered passe. She was photographed on the street wearing a Burberry trenchcoat and all of a sudden, it was cool to wear checkered patterns again.

But seriously, come on, Burberry checks look better as tablecloths or cushion covers, or on little old ladies. And this whole trend of wearing leggings under skirts? It should be burned at the stake. Sure, Sienna Miller looks cute and chic wearing it but she’s got the kind of looks that can make a brown paper bag look cute and chic. For a moment in time, we have deluded ourselves into thinking that we can emulate the quirky style of Sienna and Kate et al. by rushing to the nearest shop to buy ourselves something that doesn’t even look flattering on us. We celebrate their “individualistic style” and then try to copy it. And whose fault is that? Media. Advertisements.

You’ve been beaten before you even ran the race.

That’s why branding is such big business. And in an increasingly celebrity-obsessed world, paying $10 million for some famous person to endorse your product can bring in profitable returns on your investment more quickly that some fresh-faced model. We don’t just admire celebrities – we want to look, dress and smell like them as well.

This is why fragrance companies are tying up with celebrities to develop their “own” scents. Every star worth her wattage has her own perfume, from J.Lo to Sarah Jessica Parker, and you can bet only more will follow suit.

Then there’s Reebok who is collaborating with Scarlett Johansson to co-create a new women’s range. Scarlett1_3 Admittedly, Scarlett doesn’t fit in with Reebok’s image - she’s more old Hollywood glamour than sporty, modern chic. But it’s an exciting tie-up because Reebok is making a loud entry into a new market segment, backed by a young actress whose star is only just on the rise. When they talk about Scarlett’s co-designer duties, do you think she’ll be there on the floor, sewing and cutting fabrics? How much creative input do you think she’ll really have in the process? My guess is the only work she has cut out for her is staring seductively at the camera for the print ad shoots.

But would there be the same impact if Reebok were launching this new line of apparel with some dewy-faced model? No.

So note to Miss Evangelista: you can stay in bed because your throne has just been usurped.

Flava of the Week

Tuesday, October 10th, 2006

Recently watched: A Lot Like Love

Two friends meet up occasionally over the course of 7 years and convince themselves that they’re totally wrong for each other, despite their obvious chemistry (ie they want to get into each other’s pants all the time). But career plans, relationships with other people and the whole "we’re just friends" farce gets in the way. I don’t know why anyone would want to make a movie about two idiots who are too stupid to know they’re actually in love and instead spend their time making silly faces and spitting water at each other because they’re too retarded to have a proper conversation. Maybe they figure girls will see it because Ashton Kutcher is so adorable, and guys will tag along to see if Amanda Peet takes off her shirt in the movie (she doesn’t). But hey, I sat through the whole movie. And it raised an interesting question a friend also asked me recently: "Can a guy and a girl ever have a platonic relationship?" I said yes, it’s possible and she told me to go fuck myself. I’d like to but I have a totally platonic relationship with myself as well. Hahaha…

Listening to: Brighter Than Sunshine, Aqualung

Tied up in ancient history
I didn’t believe in destiny
I look up you’re standing next to me
What a feeling

Reading: Between the lines…Why do you say one thing when you mean another?

Parents Say The Darndest Things

Tuesday, October 10th, 2006

So I was watching Entourage on HBO the other day with my dad.

On the show, Ari Gold, the Hollywood agent, is jogging down the street when a hot-looking mom passes by, prompting him to sneer lecherously, “Got MILF?”

Dad turned to me, slightly perplexed, and said, “Why would he suddenly bring up the Moro Islamic Liberation Front?”

I didn’t have the heart to correct him.

In The Absence of Tears

Tuesday, October 10th, 2006

A friend once told me he could never imagine me depressed. “There is nothing but sunshine and daisies and rainbows in your world,” he said. “I can almost see the butterflies hovering over your head. A serious problem for you is a pimple or a flat tire.”

Of course, he is completely wrong.

I don’t know why a lot of people seem to think my life is perfect. I don’t have any idea why he would think I’m perpetually on Prozac just because I laugh at all his jokes, even the bad ones (it’s called charity laugh, you unfunny bastard) and don’t feel the need to whine about my problems to anyone who will listen.

The truth is, I’m not very good at expressing my emotions. I’m real good at listening to other people’s problems but not talking about my own. I equate talking or even brooding over my problems to weakness and self-pity. Instead, I immerse myself in work, social activities and hobbies. And because there’s a tendency to want to isolate yourself from the world and wallow in the depths of your despair, I try to spend as much time as possible with people whenever I feel down. Especially people who mean something to me. Just listening to you talk about your trip to Cambodia, or your dick of a boss, or the liberating feeling of not wearing underwear (don’t ask) really helps, because it reminds me that the world doesn’t revolve around me.

That’s the advice people always give when you’re going through a difficult period. Go for drinks with friends. Go shopping. Go do something you enjoy.

But for me, it has not done much. The solace I was seeking was never to be found in the malls and watering holes of KL. Keeping myself busy has made time pass by faster, but the days are still dreary and the nights still desolate.

Even being constantly surrounded by people doesn’t change anything. Have you ever felt so alone in a room full of people?

The trouble is, maybe by not letting myself despair, there is never an outlet for all this negativity. The worst kind of sorrow is the kind not expressed in tears. How do you get rid of pain when you deny it even exists? Where then does it all go? I know where it goes. It internalizes and becomes so well-hidden that it starts eating at you without you even being aware of it. It consumes you from within, bit by bit, until there is nothing left.

Until you are nothing but a void, an abyss.

I quickly laugh at everything for fear of having to cry.
- Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, French author

The Big Event

Sunday, October 8th, 2006

I went to my cousin’s wedding last night, the fifth wedding I’ve attended this year. This one was a bit different from the norm though as it was an outdoor wedding set romantically within landscaped gardens with an artificial lake. We dined on roast beef and pasta under palm trees and an expanse of moonlit sky. The only thing missing was a string quartet. And bug repellent. And mist fans because boy, was it sweltering. And flip flops, because my RM300 satin heels got all muddy and ruined. And…well, I don’t want to sound like a grumpy ingrate so I’ll shut up now.

At least the roast beef was tasty.

I hate being at weddings though because everyone will start asking me THE question as some sort of bad opening line for conversation: “So when’s your turn to get married?”

“Hello, I’m barely even 23 yet,” I pointed out to one inquisitive aunt.

“Oh, nonsense, dear,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Blink and before you know it, you’ll be a 40-year-old spinster with a sagging ass and then, it’ll be a lot harder to attract a man.” She looked at me ominously, like that was supposed to terrify me into running to the nearest altar with the first available guy.

“I’ll get married when Meg does,” was my reply to her.

My thirty-five-year-old cousin, Meg, is a lesbian.

But don’t get me wrong - I do believe in marriage. I just don’t think a wedding is absolutely necessary though. Marriage is an act, wedding is a ceremony. What is a wedding but an ostentatious horse and pony show? Most of the time (and this is usually true of Chinese wedding banquets), the bride and groom don’t even know half the guests at their own wedding. And do I really want to subject my family and friends to two hours of bland food, Celine Dion songs and cheesy Powerpoint slides? Most of all, I don’t want to end up seating my poor, single cousins next to nosy aunts who demand to know why they’re not married yet.

So I figure I’ll save everyone the trouble and just elope in the future. Or not.

But if I have to have a wedding, this is the only way I’ll have it: A small, private beachside ceremony in the presence of a few family and close friends. I’ll be barefoot and barefaced, my hair loose and undone. I’ll be wearing a sheer chiffon dress that’ll flap seductively in the breeze. The groom will be wearing boardshorts because tuxes really aren’t all that comfortable. No shirt because that’s very sexy. Then we’ll seal our vows by planting a baby coconut palm tree.

Hahaha.

But really, I’m not kidding…

Flavour of the Week

Monday, October 2nd, 2006

Recently watched: V for Vendetta.

Is V a social revolutionary or a sword-wielding terrorist? His intentions may be noble but a lot of things have happened in the world since the graphic novel was released back in the eighties. Mainly the fact that terrorists around the world are blowing up buildings that are allegedly symbols of evil Western hegemony on the similar pretext of "liberating the oppressed". So what distinguishes V from your common, garden variety terrorist? The fact that he has a wider vocabulary? Or that he has sufficiently refined taste to blare Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture while bombing historical buildings? No one likes a fascist dictator, but what does this guy have against old architecture?

But when all’s said and done, it’s an interesting movie, full of plausible ideas and resonant quotes like, "It’s the government that should be afraid of the people, not the people afraid of the government."

Listening to: Your Heart Is An Empty Room, Death Cab For Cutie

Download this. It’s a lovely, melancholic song. 

Burn it down till the embers smoke on the ground
And start new when your heart is an empty room
With walls of the deepest blue

Reading: Bono: In Conversation with Michka Assayas

Quite a good read, for a book that’s entirely in Q&A format - thanks to Bono’s acerbic sense of humour and eloquence on matters he feels important. Guess it would be a different story altogether if this Michka dude had been in conversation with, say, Paris Hilton instead. That’s, like, so not hot.