Figure Skating Costume Minute--NHK Trophy 2012--Costume Recap of the MEN!

Figure Skating Costume Minute--NHK Trophy 2012--Costume Recap of the MEN!

Konnichiwa Japan!

ISU Grand Prix of Figure Skating NHK Trophy 2012 (Japan)

This past weekend was the NHK Trophy 2012, the final of six ISU Grand Prix of Figure Skating competitions. I have been happily covering each and every event here on my blog. For my Skate America 2012 click HERE; Skate Canada International 2012 click HERE; Cup of China 2012 click HERE; Rostelecom Cup 2012 (Russia) click HERE; and Trophee Eric Bompard 2012 (France), click HERE. Now, we're in Japan for the NHK Trophy 2012, organized by the Japanese Skating Federation, and it took place in Sendai Japan. First, let's get started with the MEN'S Costumes. Since it was the final event (prior to the finals) I've discussed most all of the costumes already, but somehow...there were some boys I had not talked about...But first, can we TWALK...about that awfully TACKY NHK Trophy 2012

"Kiss & Cry" section?? PLEASE!



What. Is. With . All. The. Flowers????

Spain's Javier Fernandez at the "NHK Trophy 2012" Kiss & Cry area

Is this a tacky wedding photo session at your local mall, or a "Kiss & Cry" area of an international sporting competition?? The flowers SLAYED me. Seriously, I thought I was at a Quinceañera! Now, speaking of Javier... 

Javier Fernanadez of Spain: I wrote about Javier's Free Skate (as well as his Short Program) Costume HERE. Essentially, I liked this costume that he wore to "The Mask of Zorro" music. I thought it was a nice non-Period costume interpretation. Modern. Sleek. Me gusta!

Daisuke Takahashi of Japan in his Short Program Costume---and the Daisuke Fans at the Sekisui Heim Super Arena, Sendai Japan

Daisuke Takahashi of Japan: I have also discussed Daisuke's costumes for both his Short Program and Free Skate in the ISU Grand Prix 2012-2013 Series HERE  . I LOVED his Short Program red and black ensemble, which he skated to "Roll 'n' Roll Medley", "The Stroll", "Rudy's Rock". 

For his Free Skate to "Pagliacci", his costume was PERFECT! I said that it "was a very thought-out look and costume. Kudos to this modern, yet
still Figure Skating theatrical-perfect Pagliacci costume". Amen. And may I add, that at this weekend's "NHK Trophy 2012", Daisuke looked especially cute. Loved the "toned-down" hair, all semi slicked-backed and clean. Hottie McHottie, The Japan Edition.

Yuzuru Hanyu of Japan: Little--and very skinny--Yuzuru received the HIGHEST Short Program Score at "NHK Trophy 2012" this past weekend for his skate. Oh, and yes, he won the Gold Medal in the end. I have also discussed his costumes HERE. I liked both costumes--to his Short Program to "Parisienne Walkways" as well as his Free Skate, which he skated to "Notre-Dame de Paris". And yes, Yuzuru had his slew of fans at in his hometown of Sendai as well:

Now, I'd like to discuss some MALE Skaters I haven't talked about yet...Costume-wise:

Sergei Voronov of Russia: For his Short Program to "Yablochko" (Russian sailor dance) by Reinhold Gliere, Sergei wore a "Russian Sailor Uniform" of a black and white striped long sleeved shirt and black pants. It makes sense that he would. Unfortunately (or fortunately), he looks like an add for a Jean Paul Gaultier perfume.

For his Free Skate Costume to Music from Romeo and Juliet by Nino Rota, Sergei wore a black lace three-quarter sleeve shirt and  black pants. It had elements of "Romance" and yet was very old-school 1980's figure  skating costume at the same time. I'm a little bit "on the fence" with this one--it might be the black gloves that are throwing me off...

Andrei Rogozine of Canada: Andrei skated his Short Program to "Broken Sorrow" performed by Nuttin but Stringz and "Fanfare" by Black Violin. I liked this black and gold high-necked jacket ensemble. It was very Alexander McQueen--in terms of its styling, shape and detail.

Kevin Reynolds of Canada: Kevin skated his Short Program to "Chambermaid Swing" by Parov Stelar. I liked the purple shirt and sequin-studded double-breasted lapel on his vest. I also appreciated the crystal square buttons. And yes, the pinstripe pants were a great contrast. Overall, it was appropriate for the music and for him.

For his Free Skate to "Concerto No. 4 in E minor for Piano and Orchestra" by Andre Mathieu, Kevin, went a little on the "Costume Kooky" side with the gray, black and white ombre dyed shirt, the black vest with the detailed clasps, sequined-trimmed pants, and those white gloves. Something about it  all screamed "Not Working". And his pressed flat-iron hairstyle from 2009 did not help.

Adam Rippon of USA: He skated his Short Program to Puccini's "Nessun Dorma", an aria from the famous opera "Turandot" . He wore this tie-dyed purple and pink shirt with black pant "costume". This ensemble seemed liked a "throw-away" figure skating look for him. I thought it wasn't particularly original, inspiring, especially after seeing what some of the other boys--especially the Japanese ones--wore for their programs/skates. Indecently, it was a COSTUME CHANGE from what he wore earlier to the same skate and music:

I liked this black and white costume look (above photo, from "Cup of China 2012") he wore for his Short Program to Puccini's "Nessun Dorma" much better.

Pant Change: For his Free Skate to Music from The Incredibles soundtrack by
Michael Giacchino, at NHK Trophy 2012 Adam also changed his costume--well, his pants. At
the Cup of China 2012, he wore gray pants (above)...

And for this most recent Grand Prix,  he wore black ones. Good choice Adam. I likeyyy the pant change.

Ross Miner of USA: Ross skated his Short Program to "Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini" by Sergei Rachmaninoff featuring the costume above. It was a bit "Captain Kirk of Star Trek" but I liked the color blocking. Very 2012-2013 Fashion Trend for sure!

For his Free Skate to "Captain Blood" by Erich Korngold, he wore a Cabernet red top with a convertible collar, V-neck and sequins and yes, those ubiquitous male figure skater BLACK PANTS--and (Mon Dieu!) a belt! And it wasn't just any "Ross Dress For Less" belt (which, I am not a fan) but a big ol' gold buckled belt! I like everything...and if he had to wear a belt, a least it was interesting and added to the costume theme. Most of all, I am soooo jealous of his 22-inch waist! (I mean, really, look at him in that above pic!). Just in case you are wondering, both his costumes were designed by Chase Tyler, The Work Room Productions.

Top Three Men: (left to right) Silver medalist Daisuke Takahashi of Japan, Gold Medalist Yuzuru Hanyu
of Japan and Bronze Medalist Ross Miner of the United States, ISU Grand Prix of Figure Skating NHK Trophy 2012, Sekisui Heim
Super Arena, Rifu, Japan. 

***Up Next: The Ladies, Pairs and Ice Dance Costume Recaps and Highlights of NHK Trophy 2012 ! Stay Tuned!

A basket of flowers and the naughty Burgess

A basket of flowers and the naughty Burgess

Today I send a basket of flowers to someone. It's his birthday.

Cost me quite a bit of money, but I feel that the guy deserves it. Too bad he is married....hahaha, just kidding, I love my Chinaman la :-)

Ok, better not stretch my luck with that nonsense.

Actually, what I really want to write here is about this book I bought at the airport bookstore last night....I was waiting for someone there.

It's the classic The Long Day Wanes - A Malayan Trilogy by Anthony Burgess 

It was Burgess' first novel. I just felt like reading that book again since yesterday was Merdeka Day.

I first read the book when I was in school. I enjoyed it but remember being quite annoyed with Burgess for his not so flattering portrayals of the Malays. But, then again, I guess, he was just being honest about how he, as a British colonial serviceman at that time see things in this country just before and after Merdeka.

Here is a quite good review of the book -

Review: The Long Day Wanes – A Malayan Trilogy, by Anthony Burgess

In case you all are too lazy to read the book, here are some words from Burgess which may interest us Malaysians. I took this from wikiquotes. I think the guys, particularly, would like to read this due to the elements of sexual education...just for fun, ok?

• As we entered a zone of heat more furious than anything I had known in Gibraltar, I felt I was approaching a world I could live in. I sweated and was happy to sweat. Where there ain’t no ten commandments and a man can raise a thirst. That summed it up. My repressive Catholic heritage was a very small and eccentric item in the inventory of the world’s religions. I would sweat and drink gin pahits and taste the varied sexual resources of the East.

• I wandered Singapore and was enchanted. I picked up a Chinese prostitute on Bugis Street. We went to a filthy hôtel de passe full of the noise of hawking and spitting, termed by the cynical the call of the East. I entered her and entered the territory.

• Colonial functionaries had to learn the major language of their territory at a formidable level. A kitchen jargon, good enough for wives, with bad grammar and a master-race pronunciation, was usually preferred by the natives, who did not believe it was possible for a foreigner with a white skin to learn their tongue. Colonial civil servants had to disconcert these natives with a linguistic mastery, including a control of many registers, equal to, or greater than, their own.

• The demands of Islamic wives for frequent sexual congress did not indicate true sensual appetite: they were a test of the fidelity of their husbands. A Malay female body, musky, shapely, golden-brown, was always a delight....They were seductive as few women are....
  My experience with Chinese girls was mostly, alas, commercial. Prostitutes, or dance-hall girls, knew all the postures, were thin, lithe, sinuous, but disappointingly uninvolved in the act....

• The few Thailand women I met in northern Malaya called the sexual act kedunkading, with a resonant stress on the last syllable, enjoyed congress as a laughing game and experienced quick and happy orgasms with little help from the male. It was Indian women who, as one would expect from the serious Sanskrit amatory manuals, disclosed most knowledge of the techniques of inducing transport, for themselves and for their partners...

• Not far from Kuala Kangsar, on the road to the tin-town of Ipoh, was the village called Sungai Siput (meaning Snail River), reputed to be the headquarters of the Chinese communist terrorists. These terrorists were certainly more active in the state of Perak than in, say, the maritime province of Kelantan, because of the great number of rubber estates there abutting on the jungle. They would come out of the jungle, steal supplies, terrorise the Chinese and Indian workers, and garotte or shoot the white planters. All this in the name of human freedom. Their arms were mostly left over from the time when they were fighting the Japanese. Perak was full of troops of the Malay Regiment, which had its quota of British conscripts, and questing planes and helicopters hummed over the jungle. The atmosphere was warlike. Car trips to Ipoh could be dangerous. The mems in their flowery dresses went to do their shopping in armoured vehicles. Planters laid their heavy service revolvers in the beer-slop of the Idris Club. This was named for a former sultan of Perak, Idris being the Koranic equivalent of Enoch. The sultan who reigned during the time of the Emergency was Yusof.

• Yusof was also the name of the cook boy who came to work for us. He was homosexual but far from effeminate. He had been in and out of the hands of the police for various small thefts, and police medical examinations disclosed a zakar or hak or pesawat or jantan or kalam or 'urat or butoh or ayok-ayutan and a pair of buah pelir or buah peler or kelepir or bodek or telor (there is no end to the number of Malay terms for the genitals) bigger than any in Kuala Kangsar. He could shift a piano single-handed. He dyed his hair with henna and muscularly minced. The advances he made to me were politely repelled, but he demanded a kind of earnest of an intimate relationship between us - a studio wedding photograph of the two of us, me in Palm Beach suit and songkok or Malay velvet cap, him in bridal dress adorned with frangipani. When I would not yield to this he exacted various acts of revenge - thefts of money and of underpants, finally the lacing of my gin with an aphrodisiac bought in the market. The aphrodisiac proved to be an emetic. He had picked up cooking in the kitchen of the Malay Regiment officers' mess, and he served us nauseating dishes with cold sculpted potatoes, parodies of some dream of the haute cuisine anglaise. Lynne taught him simpler recipes - stew of kambing (goat or mutton : one could never be sure) and even lobscouse, which was eventually adopted in the town as a dish believed to be native Malay. He would ruin these with fistfuls of carraway seeds. Eventually we lived on his curries, which, being Malay, were mild but not bad. If he stole from me, he made up for this by stealing from the store cupboards of the preparatory school mess - tinned peaches and polished rice. When he set the table he would place with the salt cellar and the Worcester sauce a tin of furniture polish. He could not read.

• When he was given money for marketing he would spend some of it on a small animal - an ailing mouse-deer or pelandok, a twittering yellow bird in a bamboo cage. He adored Lalage but Lalage mistrusted his big brown feet. Lalage became the nucleus of a whole domestic zoo. Yusof brought in, with the help of a friend, a huge turtle that slept in the bath at night but, during the day, clanked around the house, knocking its shell against the wall. We were also given a musang or polecat which stank to heaven and ate two katis of bananas every day. The polecat was named Farouche and the turtle Bucephalus. Two rhesus monkeys, male and female, were also imported, but these swung on the ceiling fans and were destructive. All over the walls cheeped chichaks or house lizards, hunting or copulating loudly. Black scorpions clung to the bedroom walls and greeted one on waking with twitching tails an inch or so over one's head.

• Our amah or cleaning and laundering girl was named Mas, which means gold. She was very small, less than five feet, and of mixed origin - Sumatran, Siamese, a touch of China. She spoke a little English - "Yusof a bit cracked, tuan," she would say, rightly - but was fluent in all the tongues of the peninsula. Her father called himself Mr. Raja and was reputed to have committed incest with her - sumbang, a terrible crime - but was immune from any criminal charge because the Sultan owed him money. He looked wholly Tamil. Mas had been married at the age of twelve. This was unusually young, but the occupying Japanese had had the delicacy not to send married women to their brothels. Mas's one son, born when she was thirteen, was a burly policeman who looked ten years older than his mother.

• I gained the impression from Mas, and from other Malays, real or pseudo, that the Japanese occupation had been easy on the sons of the soil but very tough on the Chinese. This, naturally, pleased the sons of the soil, who had been allowed to turn to Mecca in the west at sunrise on condition that they turned to the east first and who, apart from the brothelisation of the unmarried girls, had been treated with reasonable courtesy. Yusof Tajuddin, one of my colleagues at the Malay College, had learned Japanese so well that he won an elocution contest open to native Nipponese as well as to the occupied. The learning of Japanese did nobody anything but good, since the Japanese were going to take over the East, if not the world, commercially when their more aggressive imperialism failed. Yusof Tajuddin had rather liked the Japanese, a clean and logical people. The Japanese had been impressed with the colonial system they took over. To the Malays the return of the British had not meant liberation from an oppressive regime but the mere replacement of a set of yellow foreigners by white ones. It was the Chinese, aggressive in business, murderous in the jungle, who were the real enemy.

• Yusof Tajuddin may have liked the Japanese, and Mas have tolerated them, but both shuddered at memories of what King's Pavilion had been during the occupation. "This not good place, mem," Mas used to say. Yusof Tajuddin, in his impeccable RP English, was more explicit. King's Pavilion had been used as a centre of torture and interrogation. Dried blood, irremovable with any amount of Vim, stained the floor of the main bathroom, through whose open channels much blood had flowed. Yusof Tajuddin explained the peculiar chill of the bathroom, otherwise inexplicable in a house with few fans on which the sun beat, in psychic terms : the frozen hands of death clutched it still and would clutch it for ever. A Scottish engineer of intense scepticism entered the bathroom on our invitation and came out shuddering. In the raintrees and banyans at sunset, Yusof the cook alleged, the voices of the tortured and executed could be heard complaining. Lynne and I could not hear these voices, but we knew Yusof to be superstitious in the manner of his race. He found hantu-hantu (or hantu 2) everywhere. I do not know the etymology of the word, which means ghost, but have often wondered whether there is some ancient connection, through Sanskrit, with haunt. For Yusof everything was haunted. His middle finger, or jari hantu, was haunted and must be careful about what it touched. He had seen a hantu bangkit, a sheeted ghost risen from the grave that, prevented from walking by its winding sheet, had rolled towards Yusof with evil intent. He had seen the hantu belian or tiger ghost. There was a kitchen ghost, disguised as a mat, that sometimes reared itself at him and made him smash the crockery. There were gnomes in the soil, hantu tanah, and the owl, or burong hantu, was a literal ghost-bird that stared at him and made him scream in his sleep. He knew all the hantu-hantu or hantu 2. The voices in the banyans were nothing compared with the visible ghosts with trailing entrails or the spectral huntsman (hantu pemburu), but they were there. We had better believe it.

• There were good ghostly reasons for not wishing to stay in King's Pavilion, but the real causes for our dissatisfaction with the place were more mundane. It was beautiful enough, an ample structure of the Victorian age, and the view from its verandahs was sumptuous. It looked down on great trees and gardens tended by thin Tamils drunk on todi or palm wine ; beyond was the confluence of rivers ; beyond again the jungle and the mountains. But the gorgeousness of the vista was inadequate payment for the responsibility imposed on us. We inhabited what was in effect a huge flat cut off, but not cut off enough, from the classrooms and dormitories of the preparatory school. At the beginning of the school year weeping Malay boys would arrive with their mothers and fathers, who would stay a night with them and try to stay more, and prepare to be turned into sophisticated collegians. They knew no English, and this had to be taught to them in a two-year course by a Mr. Mahalingam and a Mrs. Vivekananda. They were taught weird vowels and doubtful accentuations. Mrs. Vivekananda made them sing "Old Blick Jooooh" and Mr. Mahalingam did not correct them when they turned bullock cart into bulokar. When lessons were over they made much noise and pissed from their balcony into the inner court, visible while Lynne and I ate lunch. If I railed at them they ran away. If I entered their screaming dormitory they would drag out their prayer mats and howl towards Mecca, knowing that their religious devotions rendered them untouchable by the infidel. They called me Puteh, or white, and also Mat Salleh, or Holy Joe. The other teachers of the Malay College could go to quiet houses on Bukit Chandan, meaning Sandalwood Hill, when their work was over. Lynne and I had to cope with noise and responsibility.

• It was literally a responsibility for life and death. The garden was full of snakes, of which Malaya has a large variety, and a king cobra with a growing family was much around King's Pavilion during my tenure. Scorpions would get into the boys' shoes or beds and sting them bitterly. Hygiene was a problem, for the water supply was erratic and sometimes totally failed. Because of some fault in the meter, the Water Department recorded an excessive use of water in a dry time when, in fact, there was no water at all. My complaints and counter-complaints were rebuffed. I groaned in my stomach. I had the reputation of being bloody-minded : it was the army all over again. Moreover, a linguistic burden was being imposed upon me which I could not, in my first few months, easily sustain. I had to harangue these young boys in good idiomatic Malay and, though I was learning the language fast, I was not able to learn it fast enough.

• There was always an amateurishness in colonial administration, and even in technical specialisation, which was deemed desirable by the British, who have never trusted professionalism. Sir Frank Swettenham, one of the founder Malayan administrators, laid down succinctly the qualities desirable in a new recruit to the service - good at games, not so good at studies, unmarried and amoral enough to employ a sleeping dictionary, not too matey otherwise with the natives, clubbable. He might have added something about artistic taste, or lack of it, but that, like a fear of intellectualism, is probably implied in the first two items. If I had hoped to find intellectual companionship among my white colleagues it was because I expected a transferral of the grammar school atmosphere to a college celebrating fifty years of academic glory. But there was little glory, except on the rugger and hockey fields. Jimmy Howell announced with satisfaction at a staff meeting the installation of a hundred stout locks for the library bookcases. "One for each book," I unwisely said. The extra-curricular lives of the teachers reflected the lack of academic ambition in the school itself. They had their long-playing record-players and their shelves of book club novels, golf clubs in the hallway and stengahs on the tray. They took trips to Ipoh to shop at Whiteways and take a bit of decent makan in the Ipoh Club (ikan tinggeri belle meuniere). They had their decent little cars.

• Lynne and I had never learned to drive, an aspect of our long poverty, and I was not sure that I wanted a car. Few of my non-expatriate colleagues had them, and to whizz around the little royal town in a Ford or Austin was to emphasise the gulf between the privileged whites and the poor blacks, browns and yellows. Not that the coloured were necessarily without cars : there were rich Chinese and a Sultan with a whole polished fleet of Buicks and Daimlers. But the Malays trudged on big brown bare feet or took trishaws. I walked and soaked my shirt in the damnable humidity : this, and my growing mastery of the Malay language, placed me too close to the natives for the comfort of my colleagues. I also carried on a quiet love affair with one of the natives, a girl named Rahimah who worked as a waitress in a Chinese coffee shop. She was very small and very pretty and she was a divorcée. Muslim divorce was too easy, and there were far too many of these cast-off girls about. I was deeply sorry for Rahimah, who had a small wage, scant tips, and a small son named Mat to look after (Mat being the Malay short form of Mohamed). I gave her what money I could, and we made love in her tiny cell that smelt of curry and Himalayan Bouquet while Mat was at the junior Koran school.

• I had better say a little now about love-making in the East. With Malays there were certain restrictions on the amatory forms, laid down by Islam, so that only the posture of Venus observed was officially permitted. Islamic women were supposed to be passive houris. The demands of Islamic wives for frequent sexual congress did not indicate true sensual appetite : they were a test of the fidelity of their husbands. A Malay female body, musky, shapely, golden-brown, was always a delight. Malay women rarely ran to fat, which was reserved to the wives of the Chinese towkays and was an index of prosperity. Malay women kept their figures after childbirth through a kind of ritual roasting over an open fire, tightly wrapped in greased winding-sheets. They walked proudly in sarongs and bajus (little shaped coats), their glossy hair permanently waved, their heels high. They were seductive as few white women are. Lying with Rahimah I regretted my own whiteness : a white skin was an eccentricity and looked like a disease. Simple though Malay sex was, it had an abundant vocabulary. To copulate was jamah or berjima or juma'at or bersatu (literally to become one), or sa-tuboh, asmara, betanchok (this term was peculiar to Perak), ayut, ayok and much much more. There was even a special term for sexual congress after the forty-day birth taboo - pechah kepala barut - and there were two for the boy's initiation after circumcision - menyepoh tua, with someone older, menyepoh muda, with someone younger. The orgasm was dignified with an Arabic loanword, shahuat, or colloquially called rumah sudah ratip - literally, "the structure has gone into an ecstatic trance", ratip or ratib being properly the term for the transport produced by the constant repetition of the holy name Allah. Where the Western term for experiencing orgasm is, in whatever language, "to come", the Malay mind, using keluar, thinks of going out, leaving the body, floating on air.

• My experience with Chinese girls was mostly, alas, commercial. Prostitutes, or dance-hall girls, knew all the postures, were thin, live, lithe, sinuous, but disappointingly uninvolved in the act. Kuala Kangsar, like other Eastern towns, was full of Chinese women who went around in sexual sororities, aware, in their age-old wisdom, that only a woman can give a woman satisfaction, and that multiple congress is more ecstatic than dual. In one Malayan school I knew, the sole Chinese woman teacher seduced the white teaching wives, broke up all their marriages, and induced a male and a female suicide. Chinese men, so Chinese women seemed to believe, were not useful in bed. They deemed it sufficient to have a long-lasting erection, and there were Chinese medicines around, usually with a high lead content, which ruined the prostate but contrived a hard and unproductive rod. I knew a Chinese businessman of eighty in Kuala Kangsar who had married a wife of eighteen, a sign of prosperity unmatched by marital prowess until he filled his system with lead. He died smiling on an erection.

• The few Thailand women I met in northern Malaya called the sexual act kedunkading, with a resonant stress on the last syllable, enjoyed congress as a laughing game and experienced quick and happy orgasms with little help from the male. It was the Indian women who, as one would expect from the serious Sanskrit amatory manuals, disclosed most knowledge of the techniques of inducing transport, for themselves and for their partners, of renewing desire more times than the frame seemed capable of supporting, of relating enjoyment to strenuous athletics, and leaving the male body a worn-out rag tenuously clinging to a spiritualised sensorium open-eyed in heaven. I had sexual encounters with Tamil women blacker than Africans, including a girl who could not have been older than twelve, but none with Bengalis or Punjabis. Whatever her race, the Eastern partner's allure was always augmented by the ambience of spice from the spice-shops, the rankness of the drains, the intense heat of the day, the miracle of transitory coolness at sundown, with the coppersmith birds hammering away at tree-trunks and the fever-bird emitting its segment of a scale - sometimes three notes, sometimes four. Sex in the West is too cold, too unaromatic. It is only fair to say that Orientals, especially, for some reason, Sikhs, have found ecstasies in Bayswater unprocurable in the lands of spice.

• I wrote a novel some years ago which presents a whole lifetime of homosexuality and, in American bookshops, found its way to the shelf specialising in "gay" literature. For all that, I have never had homosexual proclivities, and I do not well understand what causes the inversion, which goes against biology. There seemed, in my time in Malaya, very few British expatriates drawn to brown male bodies. Islam does not approve of sodomy, despite its prevalence in the desert and in the lands of the Moghrab, and my cook Yusof seemed to be a rare and notorious exception to the sexual current of Kuala Kangsar. He was sometimes called benignly a limau nipis, or thin-skinned lime, which is one of the few terms the Malays have for catamite, or a member of the kaum nabi Lot, the tribe of the prophet Lot, which is a libel on the one straight man of the Cities of the Plain, but his disposition was merely mused upon as an interesting deviation. In the dormitories of the Malay College there was little amatory thumping around. I was surrounded in the Federation by a vigorous fleshly normality. Only the Sikhs, feeling themselves to be an exclusive warlike brotherhood, grunted against each other with turbans awry and beards wagging. The land pullulated with brown and yellow children tumbling into the monsoon drains. There was no danger of its going dry through unwillingness to breed.

• There was enough commercial sex around in the towns of Malaya, but there was a certain discretion of display. The secondary exploitation of it, in stage shows or blatant underwear advertisements, was mostly abhorrent to the Eastern mind, though there was a famous Chinese striptease performer named Rose Chan who drew crowds of towkays panting under their binoculars. It was the white woman who was expected to be shameless and provocative. Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell were to be seen in Cinemascope, and there was a full-page advertisement for The Barefoot Contessa in the Straits Times presenting Ava Gardner as "the most beautiful animal in the world". Some of my students pinned this page to the wall above their beds. The crinolined or embustled mems of the old days had been untouchable, but things were changing in the new age of democracy and equality. All Kuala Kangsar was on fire when a French film called Ah! Les Belles Bacchantes was shown. In it French women exhibited pert little bosoms and men of all races united in groans of lust. The Frenchwoman, or perempuan Paranchis, stood for lasciviousness, and the town of Kota Bharu on the East Coast was known, pathetically, as the Paris of the East because of the sexual licence that was believed to prevail there. There was a Frenchwoman in Kuala Kangsar, but she was a very austere doctor of medicine in a white coat. There was only one woman who, not behaving like the traditional English mem in the East and possessing the blonde beauty of a film star, was taken to be erotic in the French manner, and that was my wife.

• Time for a Tiger was sometimes compared unfavourably with the Eastern stories of Somerset Maugham, who was considered, and still is, the true fictional expert on Malaya. The fact is that Maugham knew little of the country outside the very bourgeois lives of the planters and the administrators. He certainly knew none of the languages. Nor did Joseph Conrad. When I stated, as a matter of plain fact, that I knew more Malay than Conrad, I was accused of conceit....

• Greene made it clear to me that he had achieved much and had reached a plateau where he could afford to take leisurely breath. He had not written the definitive Malayan novel which should match the definitive Vietnamese one entitled The Quiet American, and he did not think that I would write it either....

WHO WORE WHAT?.....Met Gala 2017 BEST DRESSED!

WHO WORE WHAT?.....Met Gala 2017 BEST DRESSED!

La Queen Katy: Katy Perry arrives at the Met Gala 2017 in Maison Margiela Couture Spring/Summer 2017

Tonight was the Met Gala. In case you have been living under a (Fashion) rock for a while, this is THE FASHION Prom, or the Oscars of the East Coast. The Met Gala--formally called the Costume Institute Gala and also known as the Met Ball--is an annual fundraising gala to raise funds for the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute and signals the opening of a new exhibition...

Metropolitan Museum of Art: "Art of In-Between" Exhibition featuring the work of Rei Kawakubo and Commes des Garcons

This year's exhibition pays homage to the work of Rei Kawakubo and Commes des Garcons with "Art of In-Between" (Photo above), opening May 4th and running through September 4th. Rei Kawakubo is known for her avant-garde and ability to challenge the traditional notions of good taste, what's "fashionable" and on-trend. Kawakubo has built an empire on making people think about fashion on a different level--or more specifically in dualisms: Clothes/Not Clothes, Male/Female, Fashion/Anti-Fashion, and so on. Now, before I discuss my Best Dressed/Favorite of the night and in the event that you are still not aware of what Comme des Garcons' design philosophy is, here is an amuse-bouche:

Rei Kawakubo Comme des Garcons 

So...with that out of the way, there was a certain expectation on my part, at least, to see some FABULOUS avant-grade, or at the very least, slight nods to this or Comme des Garcons and this dualism theme of hers and the brand. And this is also how I chose my Best Dressed. Sorry but not sorry to all the Selena Gomez lovers out there but this pretty creme-colored dress designed by Coach (they do gowns now?) missed the mark:

NOT MY BEST DRESSED: Selena Gomez in Coach at the Met Gala 2017

Completely. It was nice and perfect for a black-tie upscale wedding in NYC, but the Met Gala? Nope. Sorry. I get that she's young (well, 24 ain't that young!) but yeah, I get NADA, Nothing, Zip...of a even the slightest of nods to Kawakubo or Comme des Garcons or anything UBER Haute Fashion. I want a little bit of DRAMA huney! And BTW: What is with those shoes???



OK, now that I got that off my chest...time to move on to my Best Dressed Top 15:

Katy Perry in Maison Margiela Couture Spring/Summer 2017: Now THIS is how you pay homage to Rei Kawakubo and Commes des Garcons. She may not have been wearing the genius' designs but she was doing her part by attending in another Fashion Bad Girl--I mean boy--John Galliano and his design for Maison Margiela Haute Couture Spring/Summer 2017 collection.

Maison Margiela Haute Couture Spring/Summer 2017 by John Galliano

I loved this red tulle, sequined and crinoline concoction. It featured one of Kawakubo's favorite colors: scarlet red. And played on the notion of Fashion/Not Fashion, Soft/Hard, Romantic/Fierce, avant-garde, as well as a "Blood Bride" perhaps. I love when fashion makes one think, stop, pause, cause conversation, and Comme des Garcons always does and so does this. Thank you Katy: You nailed it huney!

Zendaya in Dolce & Gabbana Alta Moda Haute Couture Fall/Winter 2015: Zendaya showed up to the Met Gala 2017 to slay it. And she did. I loved this over-the-top printed silk SUPER ballgown. The gown was from Dolce & Gabban Alta Moda Fall/Winter 2015 collection. It's not "vintage" but it wasn't recent and yes, if one were to order this, it would set you back $100,000+...

I loved the romantic edge with the extreme fabulousity that Rei Kawakubo would probably admire. Just for the hair alone, I bow to her (and her stylists!) huney!

Rihanna in Comme des Garcons Fall/Winter 2016--Three Words: Go On Rihanna! I know that this is a bit cray-cray but HELLO! Newsflash: It's an homage to Comme des Gracons kids! Educate yourselves! Miss Rihanna wore this volant-filled look straight from the runways and the Comme des Garcons Fall/Winter 2016 collection shown a year ago. Naturally, she had to add her own twist and style it with those Diva leg-strapped heels. Thank you Rihanna for giving me SOMETHING and for wearing Comme des Garcons to a Comme des Garcons Met Gala! Not sure how she sat down to eat...or just sat down period but hey, sometimes one must suffer for fashion.

Lily Collins in Giambattista Valli Haute Couture Fall/Winter 2016: I loved this look on Lily Collins. She wore a strapless ballgown from Giambattista Valli Haute Couture Fall/Winter 2016. The gown is probably a $100,000 design exquisitely hand-made of tulle, duchesse silk satin and hand applied crystals. It's sweet and perfect for a Billionaire Heiress Sweet Sixteen bash but Lily made it fresh, more modern with that cropped black wig, honoring Rei Kawakubo's iconic hairstyle. Take a lesson Selena Gomez on how to make pretty just a little off-putting and more Comme des Garcon-ish.

 Solange Knowles in Thom Browne Fall/Winter 2017: I know that many people out there will think "Oh No Nick!" but YASSSSSSSSS!!!! I thank Solange for GIVING ME! Thank goodness this wasn't a basic creme colored evening dress. That's not what the Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garcons Met Gala 2017 is about darlings! Solange got it! Loved this black puffy jacket with train ensemble. In case you didn't read a recent WWD Trend Alert article HERE, it's all about the Puffy Jacket huney! And those shoes were EVERYTHING!!!

Lily Aldridge in Ralph Lauren Custom: Model Lily gave her best avant-garde Fashion Diva look at the Met Gala 2017 with this white silk jersey gown with skin-revealing peek-a-boos from---of all brands--Ralph Lauren! Yes, kids, RAPLH LAUREN! This has NOTHING to do with Ralph Lauren but I am willing to give it a pass only because she looked AMAZING! That's why I put her in my Best Dressed Top 15. But seriously, she could have just said this was by "John Smith of Pocoima" and I would have believed that more than RALPH LAUREN! #JustSaying

Tracee Ellis Ross in Comme des Garcons: I LOVED this bold blue coat on Tracee Ellis Ross! It was dramatic, fashionable and OMG: It was from Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garcons! I admired the simple cocooning-like effect and what a fabulous statement it made. Miss Tracee's momma done taught her right in terms of simple drama and CHIC!

Lily-Rose Depp in Chanel: I absolutely loved this bubblegum pink strapless ballgown on Lily-Rose Depp. The design is from Chanel. The drop-waist design seems simple and classic and yet, there is the added detail of the sequined roses (for Lily-Rose perhaps?) and raw hem. Her makeup (those fab cat-eyes!) and hair were GORGEOUS! One could argue and say "well, what does bubblegum pink and a pretty ballgown have to do with Comme des Garcons?". Not much, but...she certainly created a striking image and I'm sure Rei would approve of that!

Rose Byrne in Ralph Lauren Custom: Once again, I am TOTALLY at a loss at what this plunging neckline tulle ballgown has to do with Ralph Lauren. But, I still give Rose and the fashion house of Ralph Lauren credit for this look. She looked beautiful and she did wear the color of the night: Comme des Garcons red. It was definitely a statement...and a good one!

Zoe Kravitz in Oscar de la Renta: Zoe Kravitz wore this Millenial Pink gown from Monse designers Laura Kim and Fernando Garcia. The duchesse silk satin gown featured an overcape and bust accented with black ruffled embellishments. She looked regal and supremely chic. While this might have been a better outfit for a Balenciaga Gala Tribute, I still put her in my Top 15 Best Dressed just because she gave me something! And something dramatic and quite fabulous.

Blake Lively in Atelier Versace: Blake Lively gave everyone a serving of gold-and-feathered couture in this golden and blue feather gown from Atelier Versace. The hand-made $100,000+ costing gown (Blake got it for free) looked amazing on her and made her a Stand-out at the Met Gala 2017 red carpet.

Elle Fanning in in Miu Miu: Elle Fanning looked ethereal, gorgeous and the vision of a Romance Princess in this strapless baby blue silk chiffon gathered Empire-cut gown from Miu Miu. Now, I don't know what this design and style has to do with the "Prada Junior" line of Miu Miu but once again, I guess I have to suspend fashion belief. Irregardless of this, I still included Fanning in my Top 15 Best Dressed. The gown was GORGEOUS, dramatic and she looked incredible. Would Rei Kawakubo approve of such prettiness and Romanticism? Probably not. But at least, she made a Gown Statement!

Aymeline Valade in Marni: French model Aymeline Valade looked INCREDIBLE in this blue satin and gold sequined suit from the Italian fashion house of Marni and its incoming designer Francesco Risso. This suit was GOOOOOORGEOUS! If you're going to wear a suit to the Met Gala, this is it!

Amy Fine Collins in Thom Browne: Vanity Fair writer Amy Fine Collins looked so super chic, I couldn't miss placing her in my Top 15 Best Dressed of the 2017 Met Gala. I loved this "Victor/Victoria" tuxedo-meets-sequined gown from Thom Browne; it blended that dualism context of Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garcons to a "T"! 

Finally...

Dakota Johnson in Gucci Custom: Dakota Johnson wore this black silk gown with ruffed detail from Gucci/Alessandro Michele. Some say this was a bit "Gothic" but I actually think it was quite Romantic and beautiful but yet still a but directional to possibly satisfy La Kawakubo! 

So there you have it: My Top 15 Best Dressed of the 2017 Met Gala! Who were YOUR favorites??