Monthly Archives: September 2010

Crabtree & Evelyn Tearoom review – tea for two?

UPDATE: Crabtree & Evelyn Tearoom is now closed.

Afternoon tea with jam, cream and scones is practically a British institution, right? Except I know of not one person in Blighty that partakes of this quintessentially English meal.

Of course, that hasn’t stopped the art of afternoon tea being embraced by most luxury hotels and their dining establishments here in Hong Kong… and even some not so luxury ones, if the ‘high tea set’ at Spaghetti House is anything to go by (it includes crisps and chicken wings… high tea at a five year old’s birthday party perhaps). In fact, enjoying the tea set at the Peninsula has become one of those ‘must-do’ things here (I’ve done it twice and yes, it goes on the long list of things I mean to write about eventually). However, the Crabtree & Evelyn Tearoom must be one of the few places in HK that specialises only in serving afternoon tea – well that and being quality purveyors of nice-smelling hand cream.

You’d never guess that this quaint little corner of Little England would be tucked away in a nondescript office building in Wan Chai. Crabtree & Evelyn has always cultivated a traditionally English image so I was somewhat surprised to discover that the company is actually American and was founded in the late 1970s. They certainly had me fooled – and with their Tearoom, complete with floral crockery, relaxed atmosphere and scones laden with cream and a variety of jams, they’ve successfully managed to keep up the illusion of being every bit as old-world as the tearooms you might find in an Agatha Christie novel.

Enjoying your tea set – and you really should take time to enjoy it, as that’s practically the whole charm of the thing – is as much about lusting after the pretty-as-a-picture tableware as it is about the food itself. I knew I’d died and gone to chintzy heaven when even the printed napkins matched the teapots. (So much so I banned my boyfriend from using his, so I could take them home to stroke lovingly).

I opted for the rose tea, whilst the boyfriend went for lavender with the menu listing the various health properties each type of tea has – let’s say the rose tea was a little too good for my digestion, if you catch my drift! But it’s always fun to see what looks like pot-pourri floating in your brew and the fragrance was really rather pleasant. The lavender one did taste a bit too much of garden but the rose was not too strong and had a nice, clean taste, both getting considerably better once you stirred in some honey!

The food itself was a little hit and miss. The undoubted star of the set were the scones, which came with enough types of jam to make the WI’s stall at the village fête look positively understocked in comparison. They were warm, buttery, claggy mounds of scrumptious, especially when smeared with liberal lashings of cream and jam. The only sad thing is that scones are so filling, we didn’t manage to polish off the lot! I’d say they were superior to the ones at the Peninsula, to be honest.


The rest of the sweets were decidedly less sensational. There were some fruit tarts that looked better than they tasted, with the fresh fruit element much nicer than the bland hard pastry. The kiwi-topped one had some kind of custard in it that was far too sickly sweet; sorry Mr Crabtree, but Maxims can do better. Eating the four small chocolates was like a confectionary-based form of Russian roulette – my first attempt was a marzipan one, which was disgusting, mainly because I hate marzipan. My boyfriend got luckier with a plain chocolate one with a gorgeously gooey centre, and there was another nice one that had crispy bits in. The final one had the word Amaretto on it, so at least the rich kick of alcohol was expected. It reminded me of that chocolate-eating face-off ad for Revels (‘Coffee!!!’); since they’re small and all different, it makes sharing with your partner-in-crime a little difficult!

Finally, the savouries. To be honest, I was unable to distinguish any difference between the pastries so could not begin to guess what they were filled with! They were acceptable but not exceptional. The sandwiches, however, were in a different league. Then again, I’m a big fan of sandwiches as part of afternoon tea although in any other setting, I won’t touch them! Lovely, soft, fresh white bread (can’t stand places that try and fob me off with brown or worse, wholemeal), filled with lovely soft fresh fillings. Delightful. One was the classic combination of tuna and cucumber (again, I won’t touch cucumber in any other setting!), the other was sliced chicken. There’s nothing more simple than a sandwich but I guess the genius of these were that they really reminded me of what I’d get back home. The best sandwiches are so light you don’t even realise they’re gone until your hands are empty and these were exactly that.


The tea set for two clocks in at $298, which I’d describe as reasonable value for the whole experience rather than just the food itself (HSBC credit card holders also get 10%, which basically cancels out the service charge). I think The Tearoom is also the only place where Crabtree & Evelyn’s beautifully-packaged cookies and preserves are available for sale. It’s best for a lazy day where you can enjoy the meal in the lovely atmosphere – namely, with the divine scent of Crabtree & Evelyn toiletries floating in the air (you actually get a gift-boxed hand cream free; alas, the jar of honey that other reviewers have commented on is now reduced to a jug of the stuff that cannot be taken away!). Even the furniture has an English country house feel, with plush high-backed chairs, marble tables and a pretty veiled gazebo outside if you dare to brave non air-conditioned HK weather. There are only a few tables and given that it is still a shop, you do get customers wandering in, which can feel a little weird as you’re scoffing down your scones. We went on a weekday afternoon, meaning we were the only customers and able to enjoy our meal in peace, quiet and luxury although I imagine weekends are much busier and you’d have to book.


Overall, I had a luverly time but I’m not sure I’m in a hurry to go again, especially as there are so many tea sets to try out in HK. But it was worth it for the atmosphere, which really did feel like home – or at least, the chocolate-box version of it. I even felt like I had to watch my table manners (of course, I always do!), hold my teacup with my pinkie sticking out and come suitably attired (I wore a dress)! Definitely one for girlie girls looking to coo over pretty plates – just don’t hold me responsible if you find yourself disillusioned with Ikea’s finest afterwards!

Shop 126, Sun Hung Kai Centre, 30 Harbour Road, Wan Chai, Hong Kong 2511 0868

Afternoon tea with jam, cream and scones is practically a British institution, right? Except I know of not one person in Blighty that partakes of this quintessentially English meal.

Of course, that hasn’t stopped the art of afternoon tea being embraced by most luxury hotels and their dining establishments here in Hong Kong… and even some not so luxury ones, if the ‘high tea set’ at Spaghetti House is anything to go by (it includes crisps and chicken wings… high tea at a five year old’s birthday party perhaps). In fact, enjoying the tea set at the Peninsula has become one of those ‘must-do’ things here (I’ve done it twice and yes, it goes on the long list of things I mean to write about eventually). However, the Crabtree & Evelyn Tearoom must be one of the few places in HK that specialises only in serving afternoon tea – well that and being quality purveyors of nice-smelling hand cream.

You’d never guess that this quaint little corner of Little England would be tucked away in a nondescript office building in Wan Chai. Crabtree & Evelyn has always cultivated a traditionally English image so I was somewhat surprised to discover that the company is actually American and was founded in the late 1970s. They certainly had me fooled – and with their Tearoom, complete with floral crockery, relaxed atmosphere and scones laden with cream and a variety of jams, they’ve successfully managed to keep up the illusion of being every bit as old-world as the tearooms you might find in an Agatha Christie novel.

Enjoying your tea set – and you really should take time to enjoy it, as that’s practically the whole charm of the thing – is as much about lusting after the pretty-as-a-picture tableware as it is about the food itself. I knew I’d died and gone to chintzy heaven when even the printed napkins matched the teapots. (So much so I banned my boyfriend from using his, so I could take them home to stroke lovingly).

I opted for the rose tea, whilst the boyfriend went for lavender with the menu listing the various health properties each type of tea has – let’s say the rose tea was a little too good for my digestion, if you catch my drift! But it’s always fun to see what looks like pot-pourri floating in your brew and the fragrance was really rather pleasant. The lavender one did taste a bit too much of garden but the rose was not too strong and had a nice, clean taste, both getting considerably better once you stirred in some honey!

The food itself was a little hit and miss. The undoubted star of the set were the scones, which came with enough types of jam to make the WI’s stall at the village fête look positively understocked in comparison. They were warm, buttery, claggy mounds of scrumptious, especially when smeared with liberal lashings of cream and jam. The only sad thing is that scones are so filling, we didn’t manage to polish off the lot! I’d say they were superior to the ones at the Peninsula, to be honest.

The rest of the sweets were decidedly less sensational. There were some fruit tarts that looked better than they tasted, with the fresh fruit element much nicer than the bland hard pastry. The kiwi-topped one had some kind of custard in it that was far too sickly sweet; sorry Mr Crabtree, but Maxims can do better. Eating the four small chocolates was like a confectionary-based form of Russian roulette – my first attempt was a marzipan one, which was disgusting, mainly because I hate marzipan. My boyfriend got luckier with a plain chocolate one with a gorgeously gooey centre, and there was another nice one that had crispy bits in. The final one had the word Amaretto on it, so at least the rich kick of alcohol was expected. It reminded me of that chocolate-eating face-off ad for Revels, which spoofs the scene from Deer Hunter (‘Coffee!!!’); since they’re so small and all different, it makes sharing with your partner-in-crime a little difficult!

Finally, the savouries. To be honest, I was unable to distinguish any difference between the pastries so could not begin to guess what they were filled with! They were acceptable but not exceptional. The sandwiches, however, were in a different league. Then again, I’m a big fan of sandwiches as part of afternoon tea although in any other setting, I won’t touch them! Lovely, soft, fresh white bread (can’t stand places that try and fob me off with brown or worse, wholemeal), filled with lovely soft fresh fillings. Delightful. One was the classic combination of tuna and cucumber (again, I won’t touch cucumber in any other setting!), the other was sliced chicken. There’s nothing more simple than a sandwich but I guess the genius of these were that they really reminded me of what I’d get back home. The best sandwiches are so light you don’t even realise they’re gone until your hands are empty and these were exactly that.

The tea set for two clocks in at $298, which I’d describe as reasonable value for the whole experience rather than just the food itself (HSBC credit card holders also get 10%, which basically cancels out the service charge). I think The Tearoom is also the only place where Crabtree & Evelyn’s beautifully-packaged cookies and preserves are available for sale. It’s best for a lazy day where you can enjoy the meal in the lovely atmosphere – namely, with the divine scent of Crabtree & Evelyn toiletries floating in the air (you actually get a gift-boxed hand cream free; alas, the jar of honey that other reviewers have commented on is now reduced to a jug of the stuff that cannot be taken away!). Even the furniture has an English country house feel, with plush high-backed chairs, marble tables and a pretty veiled gazebo outside if you dare to brave non air-conditioned HK weather. There are only a few tables and given that it is still a shop, you do get customers wandering in, which can feel a little weird as you’re scoffing down your scones. We went on a weekday afternoon, meaning we were the only customers and able to enjoy our meal in peace, quiet and luxury although I imagine weekends are much busier and you’d have to book.

Overall, I had a luverly time but I’m not sure I’m in a hurry to go again, especially as there are so many tea sets to try out in HK. But it was worth it for the atmosphere, which really did feel like home – or at least, the chocolate-box version of it. I even felt like I had to watch my table manners (of course, I always do!), hold my teacup with my pinkie sticking out and come suitably attired (I wore a dress)! Definitely one for girlie girls looking to coo over pretty plates – just don’t hold me responsible if you find yourself disillusioned with Ikea’s finest afterwards!

Shop 126, Sun Hung Kai Centre, 30 Harbour Road, Wan Chai, 2511 0868

Australia’s Next Top Model Cycle 3: A Burdeu in the hand is worth two in the bush

alice burdeu ausntm

I’ve now managed to work my way back to Australia’s Next Top Model Season 3 – arguably the season that revolutionised Next Top Model around the world by proving that a bona fide high-fashion model could emerge from a reality show. It’s easy to say with hindsight but watching Alice Burdeu tower above all the other competitors was like seeing a prettier version of Snow White & The Seven Dwarves, with Snow White played by a young Karen Elson.

alice burdeu australia's next top model

Seeing Burdeu cruise through the competition (even if her ‘back was still peeeeeeling’ as she memorably wept during a VT) was not the only highlight. One of the most entertaining contestants was batshit-crazy Paloma Rodriguez, nuts enough to impress even wild-eyed Tyra. She’d have a meltdown on an episodic basis with perennial bouts of ‘anxiety attacks’ (which the rest of us would no doubt diagnose as nerves, stress or PMS), whilst exuding an air of general superiority and entitlement that obviously went down a charm with judges, finalists and viewers alike. Having said that, she had underhand manipulation skills worthy of the slimiest politician – despite constant arguments with the girls, coming out with gems like ‘Guess what – you just lost me as a friend!’, somehow the person she’d belittled would always return to Paloma proffering forgiveness with one well-manicured hand and apologies with  the other. Her best moments were wailing like the sky was falling in when one contestant was eliminated and having an ‘anxiety attack’ due to someone talking too much in a taxi (no really) on the phone to her bemused mother (‘What? I can’t hear you!’), all the while pouting at the camera in designer shades. As you do. [Below are some of her best shots, on the rare occasions when she wasn’t having an anxiety attack]

There was also the bewildering progress of Steph Hart, a pretty but average girl in the mould of the many pretty but average girls that Neighbours and Home & Away suggest form half the population of Australia, who became the benefactor/victim of Jodhi Meares’ latest girl-crush (see: Demelza Reveley) and somehow made it all the way to the final. I hear she’s now working in a mall, such is her next top model potential. Third-placed Jordan Loukas, with a face caught somewhere between Jessica Biel and the Siamese cats from Lady & The Tramp, was my personal favourite, with her phrase ‘Game on, mole!’ becoming part of my everyday vernacular. I try to use it once a day, for anything from shouting at my screen over annoying NTM contestants to digging into a tub of ice-cream. And, three cycles on, I’m still not certain that the ‘alternate girl’ (Jane Williamson) was even human, let alone female. I’ve seen more expression on an emoticon.

All this is mere small fry compared to the steaming hot mess that was the finale. If you were annoyed that Jodhi Meares didn’t turn up to present Cycle 4’s final, Cycle 3’s proves why not showing up was the best decision she ever made, even if it robbed bloopers shows of at least an hour’s worth of footage. For the parts where Meares remembered to speak, you could practically see the glint of the Autocue in her frightened eyes; mostly, she just stood frozen amongst the chaos as awkward silences, bizarre attempts to fill awkward silences and bellowing arguments ran riot over proceedings. Until Charlotte Dawson, no doubt being screamed at through an earpiece, inevitably took over.

There was a row between Meares, photographer Jez Smith and Alex Perry over the merits of Steph H – no scripted witticisms here, just messy shouting over each other, with Meares and Smith both supporting Steph but for confusingly conflicting reasons, while Perry’s anti-Steph pro-Burdeu tact essentially boiled down to a child singing ‘I know you are, you said you are, but what am I?’, albeit with one eyebrow raised. As the head of Priscilla’s Model Agency, gave her speech about how Steph was basically shit (I’m reading between the lines), Meares forgot about her mike, sighing ‘Here we go…’ over Priscilla’s criticism. And just as Alex Perry was about to cast his vote, had actually launched into his speech, in Jodie blundered with a “vital” recap of the votes so far. I could practically hear the producer bashing his head against a wall. Whilst Meares stood around looking like a spare part, it was up to Dawson to round up the show and actually present Burdeu with her prize. Television gold.

ausntm-cycle-3-jordan-alice-mary-poppins

Oh yes, the photos. Whilst not a patch on seasons four and five, my favourite shoot was the modern-day Mary Poppins one, also known (by me) as ballerinas with brollies, shot by Dean Tilton. I absolutely love the dreamy romantic styling and although a lot of the faces are semi-obscured, I think these photos qualify as art rather than glorified adverts. Jordan’s pose makes the most out of the fetish ballet shoes and tutu-esque tulle, all the more incredible if you consider she was being whizzed through the air on a harness at the time. (l-r: Alice, Jordan)

My other favourite shoot was by Jez Smith, in a glorified advert for Meares’ swimwear line. Once you forget about the two main problems, that you can rarely see either the swimwear or the models’ faces, these have a beautiful, mysterious yet serene quality. And then up pops Burdeu, totally blowing everyone out the water (excuse the pun) and as Perry put it, making Meares’ cheapo line look like Chanel. (l-r: Jordan, Steph; bottom: Alice)

Finally, a campaign for Ian Thorpe’s underwear line, photographed by Lyn & Tony. I still don’t quite understand why girls are modelling men’s underwear, especially as you can barely see the underwear in the first place. This was the obligatory ‘emotion’ photoshoot and I do love Alice’s rather petulant interpretation of angry – which I think Dawson interpreted as the bloke being a rubbish shag. Dawson was also on fine form for Jordan’s attempt at suspicion – ‘Is she suspicious because he looks a bit gay? And that, my friends, is why AusNTM will always whip BNTM’s arse.

Well, that and their amazing promos of course…

Great Forgotten Pop Songs: Dolly Rockers – How Did I End Up With You

It is a truth universally acknowledged that all the best pop songs sound even better with a helping of sadness on the side. Ever since Abba churned out tracks with melodies that dreams were made of but lyrics the stuff of domestic nightmares, it’s a quixotic blend that has been used to turn a good song into something more. The next GREAT FORGOTTEN POP SONG OF OUR TIMES has this Special Brew in spades.

Strictly speaking, How Did I End Up With You by The Dolly Rockers is not completely dead, buried and tucked away in the recesses of an amnesiac’s mind just yet. Despite the obligatory girl-group member shuffle, a slanging match with the sadly more successful Saturdays and a single that set the charts on fire with about as much success as an arsonist touting only a birthday candle, the Dolly Rockers continue to stumble on and could still make it big. By God, they deserve it as they already have more great unreleased tracks in their ‘No’ pile than some acts have managed in a whole career. But none come more great than How Did I End Up With You.

The Dolly Rockers are a band you instantly love or hate. With their glitzy jumble-sale style, make-up that you’re unlikely to mistake for an au naturel look and a general air of shambolic charm, you could be forgiven for thinking they were a bunch of tarted-up skanks one short skirt away from the street corner. But then their lyrics (self-penned) bitch-slap you out of such blasphemy – mocking the very people they appear to be, with talk of ‘stick-on nails and plastic hair’, ‘fake tits’ and boys ‘in love with their own reflection’ – all sung in a mesh of wildly-differing accents. It’s a madcap collision between the Spice Girls’ chemistry, Bananarama’s attitude, Lily Allen’s wit and Blur’s tunes that should end in complete chaos but somehow works. Well, for me, anyway. I bloody loved them – they were exciting, had masses of the untamed raw energy that record companies delight in processing out of their acts and were the perfect antidote to the anodyne that I’d been looking for. Basically, I was willing to give up my heart to a girl group for the first time properly since The Spice Girls.

Of course, my devotion proved to be the kiss of the death – their first and only single, Gold Digger, failed to dent the top 40 and nothing else has been released since. But How Did I End Up With You fully deserved to be the track that transcended whatever doubts you may have had about their image/singing ability/overuse of eyeliner; a platinum-plated gem tucked away on their album sampler that should have been their crowning moment, marking their ascendancy to girl group royalty. Splicing melodies and lyrics from Propaganda’s 80s hit Duel and 3OH3!’s Don’t Trust Me, together with an anthemic explosion of a chorus that sounds like Kelly Clarkson in her pomp, it’s a whooshing sherbet rush of pop excellence.

This, on its own, would have been enough. But lo and behold, enter that Special Brew I was banging on about for the whole of the first paragraph, and How Did I End Up With You becomes something more. Quite frankly, you don’t expect lyrics this bleak from a trio whose main strength lies in their self-styled brand of  ‘Drunk Disco’. Nor do you expect something as overt as ‘Why do I have a thing for married men?’ to crop up in a band with their über-kohled eyes trained on the Top 40. It details a relationship gone bad, but one which you just can’t bear to get out of, with just enough hints of domestic abuse (‘The diamonds are fly/He gave me a bruiser; Blow by blow, the passion dies’) to make it knowingly uncomfortable without sounding like a charity record for a women’s refuge.

Whilst most pop songs are content to tread the same shallows over and over again for their Etch-a-Sketch observations about relationships, How Did I End Up With You tackles an unusual but very recognisable hopeless state of limbo – ‘It’s hit or miss, but should I cry/Or keep it real, and hope he stays?’ There’s an air of resigned desperation to the whole thing, as even the rallying chorus of realisation (‘How did I end up with you? How did I ever see a perfect ten?’) ends with the melancholy shrug of ‘No big surprise’.

For the tune alone, it’s already a shooting star shimmering its way across the horizon of mediocre pop songs; factor in the lyrics and it becomes a veritable meteor shower blazing up the entire sky. And all from a bunch of X-Factor rejects? Pop truly does move in mysterious ways.

UK Chart Peak: Unreleased
Key lyrics: ‘How did I end up with you? I’ll never make the same mistake again… How did I ever see a perfect ten?’; ‘The devil’s smiling at this hopeless case’
Get more girl groups with attitude: Shampoo, Kenickie, Bananarama, The Spice Girls

The Evergreen Classic: Transformation of the Qipao @ HK Museum of History review

Warning: picture-heavy post!

So eager was I to see Hong Kong Museum of History’s exhibition about the qipao (also known as cheongsam), my boyfriend and I showed up a month early and trotted along to the special exhibition hall on the ground floor – only to discover a display about some ancient Chinese tribe instead. Yawn. Whilst my history geek boyfriend was delighted that we got to spend a lazy day in the regular exhibition (The Hong Kong Story – review of that here), it gave us a chance to scope out the space that the qipao would be shown in – and we weren’t impressed. It seemed small, cramped and my boyfriend predicted that we’d be in and out within an hour. How wrong he was!

Having managed to turn up in the right month, The Evergreen Classic: The Transformation of the Qipao proved to be a stunning surprise. I had worried that it would pale in comparison with the wonderful couture exhibition (loaned from The V&A) at The Heritage Museum last year; in some ways, it managed to be better. Some 280 qipao, of all shapes, sizes, colours and textures were displayed (apparently, some with waists so tiny that custom-made mannequins had to be ordered in!), with the exhibition flowing along nicely as it detailed the evolution of the qipao from its origins in the 17th century to the modern designs we’re now more familiar with – and, despite the amount of dresses, as well as information boards, 400 pictures and videos, it didn’t feel cluttered, cramped or messy. The best part – you could really get up close to the dresses (only the oldest were displayed behind glass), marvel at the exquisite detailing and take lots and lots and lots of photos! All things you couldn’t do at the couture exhibition, in case you’re wondering.

Look but don’t touch!

So what did we learn? The qipao originated amongst the Manchu nobility of the Qing Dynasty in China, where they were long, wide and loose. Looking oddly unisex in appearance, with only fingers and the tips of the toes visible, it wasn’t exactly flattering to the female form! Even so, the detailing, embroidery and vivid colours and patterns are beautiful today, hundreds of years later.

Gradually, the form moved with the times – the dress became shorter, the fit became tighter, the famous Mandarin-style collars got higher, short bell sleeves became popular and slits were introduced to make walking easier (and show off some skin!).

Between the 1920s and 1960s, various elements came and went according to fashion – long or short skirts, plain or patterned, revealing slits, one or two pieces (like a tailored suit), being worn with Western-style fur capes or cardigans – all these trends came and went depending on whatever was “in” at the time. As with everything great and good in the world, the Chinese communists attempted to ban it – it’s figure-hugging form doubtlessly decreed too sexy for their austere tastes.

As women entered the workforce and discovered the need for more practical clothing, the tight-fitting qipao fell out of favour, making way for comfortable outfits from the West, although it survived as everyday dress in Hong Kong for a little longer, until the 1970s. Nowadays, the cheongsam is mostly famous as a national dress, worn by Asian beauty contestants, waitresses in Chinese restaurants, students at old-fashioned schools and Oriental stereotypes in movies. However, elements of design still live on in many modern garments and contemporary designers constantly play about with the form to create new, inventive takes on the qipao – with the Museum of History commissioning Hong Kong Polytechnic’s Institute of Textiles and Clothing to create some pieces for the show.

As you can see, I have dealt with the history of the qipao in a few short paragraphs and although the information boards provide a running commentary, the dresses practically speak for themselves. Because there is such little relevant information, reading these boards quickly becomes repetitive and boring, especially towards the end where there’s only so much you can write about a waitress’ uniform or a Miss Hong Kong costume. But skip these at your peril – they often include fascinating photographs, whether of the strange Manchu people with their hair piled high in some precursor to Princess Leia or more contemporary images, showing glamorous Chinese women in qipao with film-starlet hair and art-deco styling.

I was also disappointed that the exhibition failed to make much of the qipao’s strong showing in films. In the 1960s, The World of Suzie Wong and its qipao-clad star Nancy Kwan made a strong cultural impact, making the cheongsam fashionable amongst Westerners – the name Suzie Wong is still a cultural checkpoint today. More recently, in Wong Kar-Wai’s multi award-winning In The Mood For Love, Maggie Cheung wears a different custom-made cheongsam in each scene (46 in total). It’s not just for beauty’s sake either – the outfits deliberately play into Kar-Wai’s sensual evocation of mood and time, whilst the constricting nature of the cheongsam is symbolic of the theme of the moral and social restrictions placed upon the characters. It would have been nice if The Evergreen Classic had acknowledged the impact of these films on the qipao and its place in the Western mindset, with stills and video clips even if they couldn’t get hold of the costumes themselves.

But these are minor quibbles – seeing the qipao up close, in all their glorious intricate detail, is just breathtaking. You can see the fragility of the fabrics, how the striking embroidered buttons often mirror an element of the pattern, the individual stitches on the sleeves. Amazing stuff. I guess the average person, owing to their exposure to the cheongsam in its more traditional forms, views the qipao as a timeless classic yet it’s fun to see how it adopted the fads and trends of the time – especially in the 60s and 70s, where some of the garish patterns are just as headachingly horrid as they are on Western clothes!

I also loved the modern constructions near the end (like the one shown earlier being fingered by a visitor), although some of these felt like advertorials for their designers.  The ones above were some of those designed by PolyU – the one on the left reminds me of something Vivienne Westwood would design (cutesy gingham print combined with the rock edge given by the back detail) whilst the ones on the right, entitled ‘Deconstruction of the Qipao’, look fit for Xena: Warrior Princess! I love how the designer has taken elements of the qipao, like the collar or the typical floral embroidery, and transformed into something totally new and modern. It would be amazing to see these kind of dresses on the red carpet, whether on Chinese or Western stars, or as stage outfits for some of the more outlandish performers out there (need I mention Gaga?!) – the quality, workmanship and sheer show-stopping quality of these outfits had needs to be seen to be believed.

Only one question remains – why oh why hasn’t a catalogue been produced? And, since it ends on 13 September, why oh why haven’t you been there yet?! [Although a lot of the pieces are on loan from real people, I’m hoping a more permanent form of this exhibition eventually makes it to The Heritage Museum – you’d best be reading LCSD!] For just $10 (and that includes the main exhibition as well), it’s a must for anyone who basically appreciates nice stuff. My boyfriend’s not into fashion at all (as his wardrobe attests, ho ho) but even he seemed to enjoy it. Go forth and qipao! And if it’s too late… here’s a few dozen of my best photos to make up for it (click for enlargements).

P.S. My favourites were from the 1950s and 60s, so there may be a slight bias. Apologies, fans of ye olde qipao.

Collar detail on some of the older qipao

Love how glam these Shangainese girls look – traditional clothes but hair and make-up that would make any 1930s Hollywood starlet proud. And check out those cheeky side-slits!

Both red (it’s our lucky colour after all) but look at the contrast between old and new – from loose to fitted,via tailored business suit and seemingly Art-Deco print.

These were my favourite qipao of the exhibition; they belonged to 1950s’ HK film star, Lin Dai. The photo does not do the black cheongsam in the first picture justice – up close, you can see the lace embroidery overlay and its a subtly elegantly sexy effect. The design and prints of these are so clean and simple that they still look amazing today.

Put your sunglasses on! As I mentioned, some of the prints are very ‘of their time’ i.e. hideous now (ok, the blue florals aren’t too bad – they just look like china and give me a bit of a headache). But the detail is still gorgeous up-close.

No such prints on the school uniforms! Apparently, a lot of students who have these uniforms complain vociferously about it – and once you’ve had a tight Mandarin collar round your neck in a typical HK summer, you’ll understand why!

Close-ups of the button clasps used at the collar.

I love these photos. They ‘capture a moment’ – a time when the cheongsam was everyday wear in HK.

I guess these are the simpler kind of qipao you could imagine for everyday wear – but even then, the lace embroidery is still so beautiful and complex up close. I’d be constantly worried about damaging them at work!

I’m a big fan of fashion sketches and found these fascinating – they’ve been drawn in that typical 50s’ style and show how the Chinese woman could Western up her outfit with a cardigan, fur wrap or jacket. It’s really unusual to see obviously Asian women being drawn in fashion sketches as well, rather than just a generic silhouette.

From just looking at these, you’d say 1970s right?! The frilly sleeves on the left are a new detail and the one on the right reminds of the classic Missoni print and colours, matched with the green contour lines, which are reminiscent of the whole Christopher Kane body-con thing that is happening now.

I imagine the ones on the left are more for evening wear – the midnight blue one with the sprig of glittery embellishment just looks so sleek and modern, it’s unbelievable it was made decades ago! I liked the one on the right just because the print was so subtle (squint hard to see it!) yet really lovely, fresh and youthful.

I’m also a fan of these retro drawings of stylish qipao-clad ladies that were often used in advertising in the 1930s (famous now for featuring on the Two Girls line of toiletries and cosmetics products). It’s something that the HK Museum of History has capitalised on with this very clever series of adverts, showing these traditional drawings alongside modern qipao, which look very like the ones in the pictures, that are part of the exhibit.

The dress on the left was worn by Michelle Yeoh at the 2002 Cannes Film Festival – a beautiful, fluid, elegant take on the qipao (love how the lines of colours emphasise the shape of the body). The middle one was worn by HK film star Josephine Siao in the 1970s – the traditional embroidered borders were taken from her mother’s collection from the 1930s! And I just liked the watercolour-style print of the one on the right, ok?!

Occasion-wear qipao! The one on the right was worn by hostesses at the 2008 Beijing Olympics Opening Ceremony (red and gold, classic combination!). I believe the one on the left was Siao’s wedding dress – it’s interesting that the typical qipao details are not on the dress itself but on the cape thing over it – and the cute flower appliques on the (bridesmaid’s?) dress are so pretty!

The qipao worn by Miss Hong Kong 1977, Loletta Chu. Beautiful unusual colour and floral design – definitely a stand-out at the exhibition.

This is where it gets fun, as modern designers try and put contemporary twists on the qipao whilst remaining true to the design. I think these were stage costumes for one of HK pop queen, Anita Mui’s, concerts. That cape design on the far left is so gorgeous and wintry feeling, the floral design of the second one is composed of thousands of beads (probably pain-stakingly sewn on by hand!) and the leaf detail on the other one is actually rather risque – it’s see-through! The one on the far right, again with some transparent details, is designed by Blanc de Chine and the rest may well be too but I can’t remember.

More modern qipaos, with some close-ups of the stunning details (far right is of the train of one of the dresses). I think these would make amazing wedding dresses.

And after all those photos, I hope your brower’s still working!

The Evergreen Classic: The Transformation of the Qipao is on at the Special Exhibition Gallery (on the ground floor), Hong Kong Museum of History, 23 June-13 September, 2010, $10 per person. 100 Chatham Road South, Tsim Sha Tsui, Kowloon, 2724 9402.

Exhibition pamphlet available here.

All photos taken by me or from the museum’s website.

After the exhibition has finished, you may be able to find some of the qipao either in the museum’s regular exhibition or at The Heritage Museum in Shatin.

New Zealand’s Next Top Model, Cycle 1: Fug down under?

nzntm christobelle anger ruby joy

Onto the next stop in my English-speaking tour round the world’s Next Top Model franchise – New Zealand, Cycle 1.

Since it was New Zealand’s first ever cycle, we can excuse a few of its teething problems – a panel that hadn’t learnt how to be charismatic yet, some cheap amateur photography, occasional bouts of clunky editing and a fairly rough gang of finalists. But you just can’t keep a good format down.

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For each of these negatives, there was a glowing positive. So whilst stern and humourless Sara Tetro was evidently handed hosting duties in some sort of Faustian pact for offering a contract with her agency as the prize, we were also gifted with one of the best ever judges on any NTM show. I have no idea who Colin Mathura-Jeffree is (model slash actor slash all-round heap of fabulousity, since you asked), but he’s a complete natural. His role is somewhat ill-defined – not a stylist but hanging around the girls with the same persistence as any judge with a Jay in their name. And thank God he hangs around, as he’s hilarious. Of course, now I’ve said that, I can’t remember a single hilarious thing he ever said but his one-liners were quick, witty and un-contrived, especially in the face of wooden Sara, who seemed to find his presence an irritant. One of my favourite moments was when a contestant was castigated for referring to a designer’s clothes as ‘comfy’; a week later when she didn’t like her outfit in a shoot, Colin wickedly asked if it had at least been comfy. My hoots of laughter only increased as an oblivious Sara tutted like a grandma seeing a mini-skirt.

It helped that Colin was also prettier than half the girls that cycle and seemed to view his every appearance as an opportunity to raid his dressing-up box. He turned up as a punk, a maharaja, a matador, a dandy, an extra from a Boy George video… a montage of all his looks may have proved more entertaining than the show itself. Screw catwalk practise – he turned up one week just to throw cakes at the girls! And I’ve just found out that his acting debut was as a ‘sword-wielding warrior’ on Xena: Warrior Princess, which is just so utterly perfect. I hope he wears the costume to panel someday. CMJ – we salute you!

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As usual, the judges seemed to eliminate the most obviously attractive girls in the semi-finals, leaving a pair of sisters (included to manufacture contrived sibling rivalry stories for as many episodes as possible), an African (who threw out the ‘Is it ‘cos I is black’ line as early as episode three) and a ginger bobble-headed alien on a trip to Earth (I believe that’s what constitutes “high fashion” on Next Top Model shows) who my boyfriend hated with a passion. One contestant missed a photo-shoot because she basically couldn’t be arsed.

And there was gloomy single-mother, Teryl-Leigh, who had never smiled in her life so clearly had lost all function in the corners of her mouth, meaning her every utterance came out as a monotonous misery-soaked drawl. She was such a black pit of woe, a toxic vortex of doom, that I was worried I’d catch depression just from watching and being sucked into her beautiful sad eyes. That being said, I did quite like the cast’s first photoshoot proper, mainly down to the 1930s-aviatrix styling… very Clara Bow in Wings. (From top to bottom throughout article: Christobelle, Victoria, Rebecca Rose and Teryl-Leigh).

The show was eventually won by Christobelle Grierson-Ryrie (I swear half the battle in winning these shows having an extravagant name under your belt), who I want to say looks like a grown-up Dakota Fanning except Dakota Fanning has actually grown-up and Christobelle is only 16 so the comparison doesn’t quite pan out. Best photos above – love the poses, love the styling, there’s something girlish yet mature about her that really works.

Reality show fans may be familiar with the ‘redemption arc’ trope, where a previously dislikeable character becomes endearing – in a coup for editing prowess, Hosanna Horsfall (what a name!) didn’t just do an arc, but managed a full circle! She started a desperate antisocial try-hard, maligned for her much-practised circus freak poses. But somehow, her ability to get up Teryl-Leigh’s nose and demented determination made her oddly appealing, becoming the panel’s go-to figure for demonstrating the right attitude. But then, she started believing her own press, smugly gloated in the face of other people’s eliminations, couldn’t even be bothered to play at being civil to the other girls whilst remaining as utterly demented as ever. Her best photos (above) are the ones that capture the maniacal gleam in her eye – you genuinely believe she might drill a hole in this guy to get at the prize (especially if it was located in his spleen). Scary.

But onto the photos. Yes, the show made it look as if there were all of about 3 working photographers in the whole of New Zealand, one of whom was scrounging for extra money by being on the panel too – Craig Owens, whose first shoot was absolutely awful (cheap, hideous unflattering make-up, hideous dated styling), was somehow invited back another 2 times! It seems a basic of photography to not choose the shot where the model’s face is obscured – Owens managed to do it twice (see above)!

nzntm cycle 1 victoria laura

However, I did love his second photo-shoot, where the girls channeled emotions whilst styled like 50s film stars (see banner photo). The styling is just superb and the best shots look like they could have been publicity shots from the golden days of Hollywood. Christobelle, looking like a cross between Veronica Lake and Marlene Dietrich, does anger so perfectly here – an arched eyebrow and icy glare that’s perfect for the sort of controlled fury those stars did so well. Ruby’s photo is just pure joy – possibly my favourite from the whole season. She manages to completely engage with the viewer and looks so radiantly, naturally happy that you can’t help but burst into a smile as well. This is made better by knowing that to achieve this glow, she was thinking about the time a friend fell off her chair and smashed her head on a desk. Victoria doing seductive and eventual finalist Laura doing grief ain’t too shabby either (I love how there’s something stage-y and mannered about Laura’s, which really fits the film star brief well).

[A sidenote on Ruby: despite producers trying to contrive weight issues and attitude problems (because she muttered ‘for real?!’ when the first thing she was told on arriving on-set was that she only had two minutes for a photo), she remained breezily unbothered and utterly charming throughout the series. Her best moment was when a huge bug flew in her eye on one shoot; it separated into three parts, the body and both wings, and unable to get it all out, she had to do the photo with a wing stuck in her eye. Gross.]

It took Nigel Barker, borrowed from ANTM, to produce the most consistent set of the series. My favourite shot is actually of Teryl-Leigh, whose mournful expression works really well with the gloomy atmosphere; it really ‘captures a moment’, which is my favourite type of photography. As ever, the combination of dilapidated surroundings and couture gowns is a winner (above, Teryl-Leigh and Victoria, who was the most classically beautiful of all the finalists yet unfortunately peaked before the contest had even started).

I’ve managed to write more on this than AusNTM Cycles 4 and 5, both of which are actually better television. But with season 2 of NZNTM currently screening now, what better time to catch up on the awesomeness of CMJ? He even has his own acronym, FFS.