Singapore is known for its strict rules and even stricter punishments. While those laws can be a bit of a buzz-kill (especially for Michael Kay, the American who got caned for graffiti in the ’90s), the first day of fashion week here proved the design scene to be burgeoning and the nightlife wild.

Coming off of 22 hours of flying, when I initially got here I was in a surly mood. The 110% and completely unbreathable humidity was only fanning my frustrations, and upon checking into my hotel, the ‘Meritus Mandarin’, I found that not only did i have a shitty view of an alley way, but also 2 single beds instead of the queen i had requested. To make matters even worse, I had agreed to speak at the ‘Asian Fashion Summit’, hosted by WGSN at the Four Seasons on the topic of ‘What’s on the mind of a buyer’? At this point it was ‘why the hell did I bother with this trip’?

I had a few hours to kill before the forum, so I decided to do a bit of sightseeing around the hotel which is located on the famed Orchard Road, known for its miles of shopping malls. So in spite of the warnings I had heard about shorts in public places being inappropriate and Singaporeans penchant for formal outdoor dressing, I set off in a pair of Horace leather shorts, a black tanktop by House of Holland, and my black Common Projects officer’s combat boots.

Orchard Road proved to be nothing more than garish, neon lit high street shops, similar to Broadway in Soho New York, or Oxford Street in London. What I did find more appealing was the mishmash of the ultra modern architecture with Singapore’s Malay and British historical influences. The glass, steel, and concrete megaliths are built on top of and in some cases over their colonial counterparts, as if modern day Singapore wants to shadow its British past.

And with all the rules, regulations, and scare tactics put out by the government, the densely vertical towers of this 4 million strong but tiny city state at times made it feel like being in a giant, Orwellian prison of the future. $500 fine for discarding chewing gum on the street… $1,000 for riding a bicycle in pedestrian only zones…mandatory death for drug trafficking! Yikes, anything we ARE able to do?

After delivering my two cents to a few hundred Singaporean apparel business men and women at the forum later that afternoon, things did start to loosen up. My very good friend of 15 years, Singapore mover-and-shaker Antonia Cheng, thankfully swooped in to rescue myself, and my fellow buyer co-speakers Terry of Harvey Nichols and Bridget of Matches from the boredom of a boozeless post-forum ‘cocktail’ party to go over to the Blueprint group fashion show and afterparty. The Blueprint fashion tradefair is basically the reason I’m here (more on that tomorrow) and strives to group together the best of Southeast Asian fashion under one roof, in this case at the ‘Pit Building’, a hall of sorts that was constructed to accommodate racers and racing fans alike when Singapore turns its streets into an F1 car racing course. We only managed to catch the tale end of the group show, but we did manage to indulge in plenty of the free flowing Belvedere Vodka and Moet Champagne on hand…

In spite of my head swirling jet lag and encouraged by an alcohol induced second wind of energy, I agreed to follow Antonia and Terry to the legendary Club Zouk, Singapore’s premier night club, which was hosting a DSquared afterparty. Antonia informed me it was ’80s night there and to prepare for copious ear bleeding (there are worse sounds to party to, I replied). But instead of being awful, it proved to be comically entertaining from the moment we rolled up to the door. I’ve never seen this before, even in Japan, but next to the entranceway was a vending machine hawking $7 ballet flats to girls whose feet are aching. Take your pick, ‘Silver Bullet’, ‘Blackjack’, or ‘Goldfinger’.

Here’s when I began to regret my earlier more casual sartorial choice. As we were entering and in spite of Antonia’s very influential ‘girl about town’ status in nightlife circles here, one of the doorman came running up and blocked my entranceway while barking in broken English ‘YOU ARE A NUDIST, YOU CAN’T COME IN HERE!!’, because I was wearing shorts and a tanktop, and showing a bit too much skin for their comfort level. Apparently that might cause some of the closeted straight males in the club to second guess their sexuality or something. Thankfully Antonia came to my rescue yet again and we got in.

The party was packed and because I live in New York, I almost forgot what it was like to be swallowed up by a sea of dancing revelers. It didn’t matter that the ’80s music was karaoke level bad (‘Last Christmas’ by Wham anyone? Or how ‘about ‘La Bamba’ by Ritchie Valens?). Everyone in there was wearing broad smiles across their faces (including Dan Caten of Dsquared who I ran into while dancing on a platform), demonstrating that in spite of the strictness of their island nation, they can in fact have a contagiously great time.

KEYWORDS: fashion week, singapore

* Required Field

Your Name: *

Your E-Mail: *

Your Remark:

Friend's Name: *

Separate multiple entries with a comma. Maximum 5 entries.

Friend's E-Mail: *

Separate multiple entries with a comma. Maximum 5 entries.

Image Verification: *

 Loading ...