Lady J on Shop: Going cold turkey on retail therapy

If ‘Shopping’ was a subject that I could take in school, I’d probably pass the exams with flying colours. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved shopping. I take joy in buying things; clothes, bags, shoes, cosmetics, etc. Funnily, even going to supermarket to pick up groceries can sometimes be considered a chore to some, but for me, it’s a joy to push the cart down the aisle to pick up the mundane household items.

My favourite type of activity

Just four months ago, we found out that we were going to be relocating to Geneva for about a year. Instead of checking out which apartments to rent, my attention instead turned to checking out where the shopping district was. A quick search on the web revealed familiar brands and I was put at ease for that meant that part of my shopping hobby could continue.

However, I was in for a rude shock when J brought me shopping. The famed shopping belt of Rive was hardly any comparison to Orchard Road (Singapore’s exciting retail and entertainment hub). I was used to manoeuvring shopping malls which housed practically everything my heart’s desire under one roof.

Geneva's shopping belt

But, presented before me was individual shops lined up neatly on the streets with two to three department stores (with a maximum of four floors) for me to explore. Shops were scattered rather haphazardly and if I wanted to get a specific brand of shoes, I would need to take a good ten-minute walk to get to the desired shop.

Well, since I couldn’t find joy in the physical act of shopping, I resorted to Internet-shopping to fulfil my retail-therapy fix. I’ve done that in Singapore, trawling on US/ UK shopping sites to purchase stuff. Yes, granted that it wasn’t going to be instant gratification since it would take about one to two weeks before the goods arrived, but it was the next best thing that I had.

I knew that in Singapore, if the goods purchased via the internet exceeded S$400, it would be subjected to a 7% Goods and Services Tax made payable to the government. As such, I’ve always tried to keep my online purchases capped at S$400 so as not to incur additional charges. However, in Switzerland, regardless of whatever goods purchased on the Internet. It will have to be subjected to a 8% Value-Added Tax made payable to the Swiss Government. Yikes! I sank into mild retail depression and surfing the internet surfing/shopping lost its gleaming appeal to me. Not to mention, it also became a quite an expensive affair to acquire the desired goods.

Queuing to get inside the Prada outlet at the Serravalle Designer Outlet in Italy

So what can this self-professed shopaholic do to get her dosage of retail therapy happiness? Seek greener pastures of course! Geneva is a spring-board to many cities in Europe. Short weekend trips to neighbouring cities of France, Italy and Spain not only allowed us to immerse in the individual city’s culture but also produced higher returns on shopping.

My favourite French word!

Shopping in the form of bargain hunting was taken to another level as I diligently checked out the Europe Summer Sales, resisting the urge to purchase until the desired item was at least 50% off the retail price. We also made a couple of side trips to the factory outlets where greater savings of up to 60% can be enjoyed on previous seasons’ collections. Well, I couldn’t really care if I was decked out in past season’s collections as long as it’s affordable, wearable and most importantly stylish enough to bring me through fashion’s fickle trends.

By the time we had packed our bags and returned back to Singapore for a short vacation in August, we felt that we had all shopped out and I decided to put retail therapy on hold for a while. Well, that was until the Great Singapore Sales plus the recent Club 21 Bazaar Sale came along and busted this recovering shopaholic’s plan.

The sale that busted this "Shopaholic's" recovery plan

[Image of Geneva's shopping belt taken from the Internet]

Una Ragazza on Shop: Buying the Message

I like words. I like what words can do better than actions can (think: getting out of an unpleasant situation). I like my job that’s about words. Boggle and Scrabble are my favorite childhood games. I like a good message.

I like writing postcards. Postcards are my preferred travel souvenirs. You send a meaningful picture and expound on the place or image while sitting at the local town square or perched on a mountain top. You may ask, “But if you send the postcards, you end up with no souvenirs at all for yourself.” Thankfully, I solve that issue by sending my favorite postcards to Un Ragazzo.

I really like posters.

In the last few years, I’ve found myself drawn to propaganda posters. It all started when I got lost in a busy alley in Hanoi and stumbled upon a colorful store with posters produced by the Vietcong during the Vietnam War era. Inside, I found many fascinating images, including a poster of the face and upper torso of Ho Chi Minh with a peace-loving dove in the background, made entirely from stamps. In a way, the little poster shop became a museum of sorts as I read the accompanying messages meant for the Vietnamese people during the 1960’s. I eventually purchased a colorful poster of a peasant girl hard at work in a garden, captioned as follows, “Do not grow opium plants.”

Put a stamp on Uncle Ho

Vietnam war-era poster: "Do not grow opium plants"

During my last few trips to China, I’ve also sought out posters from the country’s past decades in museums, galleries and shops. I often wonder about the artists behind these posters, their motivation and circumstances. Were they firm believers of the art they were depicting? Or, was propaganda art a lucrative business? Were these given away for free to spread the message? Where were they put up -- around the home, on shop walls or in public places?

Vietcong support in China

In speaking to a museum worker in China, I learnt that, similar to the way religious art was financially backed by churches in ancient Europe, what I coin “red art” was heavily patronized by the authorities. Contrary to my belief that the posters were distributed free of charge to encourage their use every where, they were actually sold by Chinese publishing houses to the general public, who would buy them during special occasions and festivities to decorate their homes, since entertainment such as television was not yet commonplace at the time.

Earlier this year, I chanced upon a beautifully preserved poster depicting a ballet scene from the Red Detachment of Women (红色娘子军), which originated as a pre-Cultural Revolution-era play about the women of Hainan Island who resisted the nationalists destroying the communist based on the island. Foreigners who know this ballet will recall it as the ballet performed for President Richard Nixon during his 1972 visit to China.

I was struck by the poignant memory the poster scene evoked, and felt I had to buy it. The plan is to frame and hang it in my wrought-iron, military-themed bedroom. I’m actually curious about the reception it’d get from visiting friends and family.

An original 1970 poster of the ballet, Red Detachment of Women. Once revered, then despised. Now, a showpiece in my bedroom

Click on the image above to watch an excerpt from the Red Detachment of Women

The magic of red

Lest anyone thinks that I’m implying propaganda is solely the work of communist governments, the first propaganda poster I own actually came from the U.S. Food Administration -- the predecessor of the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) -- encouraging prudence in food consumption during World War I, and a French newspaper promoting readership.

A WWI message by the U.S. Food Administration

For those who grew up in Singapore in the early 80s, you will remember the “Two is Enough” campaign to encourage Singaporean families to “stop at two” children. That was the first time I saw a propaganda poster. I remembered having a strange feeling in my stomach when I first saw it, only because my willful parents had stopped at three instead.

"One umbrella and a single apple: not enough, even if both are girls"

What was the first propaganda poster that you have ever seen in your life?

(Some pictures taken from the Internet)

Featured in Cacao Mag: Eat.Shop.Play.Love on the Subway

This month, Cacao Mag, a creative art magazine based in Sweden and Taiwan, published a brief feature by Una Ragazza about eating, shopping, playing and loving on the New York subway. Leave your metro card at home; have a ride on us.

The Times Square gateway to the underground rat kingdom

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In 2010, inspired by a certain Julie who set out to cook everything in a cookbook, and a certain Liz who ate, prayed and loved her way across the globe, a Singaporean girl decided it was time to put on paper -- or in bytes -- the adventures that life was bestowing upon her. Roping in friends with a passion for the written word, she launched eat.shop.play.love as a writing experiment to lend a voice to the millions of Asians around the world who have left their native countries to live their lives in a different place, for whatever the reasons may be.

Having lived in six countries across three continents, she writes under the moniker “Una Ragazza” (meaning “a girl” in Italian) to pay homage to the first foreign country she lived in, and quickly fell in love with.

Here are excerpts from her musings on the New York subway.

* * *

eat.shop.play.love on the Subway

To most people, the word “subway” brings to mind a fast-food chain with a slogan to “eat fresh” sandwiches.

An informal poll among friends showed the New York subway evokes strong emotions, with locals calling it “dirty,” “germy” and “rat-infested,” and tourists preferring “overwhelming,” “confusing” and claustrophobic.”

I’ve a love-hate relationship with the subway. While it’s affordable, convenient and fast, it also drips mysterious liquids, reeks of garbage and bodily fluids, and is filled with grouchy people.

Yet, like most New Yorkers, I can’t imagine life without it. In fact, with some hand sanitizer in tow, subterranean life can be colorful.

The denizens of the New York subway keep it humming

eat.

In Singapore, commuter trains are squeaky clean because eating carries a maximum fine of S$500.

Without a food ban on the New York subway, evidence of the crime is often strewn on trains, platforms or tracks.

Oh, and the smell. From the benign to the most intolerable, here’s a sampling: pretzel, hot dog, beef minestrone soup, grilled cheese sandwich, sour cream and onion Pringles, and chicken with broccoli.

Every now and then, an irate soul loses it. This spring, local media had a field day when two spaghetti-chomping girls got into a fight with a woman who said, “What kind of animals eat on the train like that?”

A ubiquitous post-September 11 subway slogan goes, “If you see something, say something.” One frustrated Brooklynite took it a step further. He created Trainpigs.com, featuring those caught with their mouths full.

Do not cross the train tracks because of the electric current. And the rats busy scurrying for leftovers!

shop.

Subway commuters are often greeted by teenagers selling candy to raise funds for a school program. Nobody blinks. Not so with a former gangster-turned-author. Last fall, I encountered a tall man in dreadlocks with a stack of 20 books under one arm, telling everyone we could read his life story for US$10. People started opening their wallets immediately. Never mind if his story’s real; start counting the profits bypassing Barnes and Noble.

Selling spray-paint art at the Union Square station

play.

If you’re ever stuck in the subway system and bored, you may have yourself to blame. Subway platforms are filled with buskers who work hard each year to entertain the 60-odd million tourists and locals. Performance quality is high; to play in a high-traffic subway location, street performers must first entertain the Metropolitan Transport Authority in the “Music Under New York” audition.

Even more fascinating is a secret art exhibition space that “opened” last summer. Housed in an unused and undiscovered subway station four stories below street level, the gallery features street art from worldwide artists who are secretly escorted into the space and given only one night to leave their mark.

Remy Francois, the underground subway king from Haiti, belts out a song

Broadway ads give a glimpse of what's above ground

love.

Can love be found on the subway? Apparently so. Every month, hundreds post messages on the “missed connections” page of Craigslist New York seeking the “jeans guy with salt-and-pepper hair” or the “girl with gray fingerless gloves.” Friends of mine have gone on dates after locating postings describing them.

Not me. My worst personal encounter happened on the Wall Street subway platform seven years ago. Two minutes into a largely one-sided conversation, the guy said cheerfully: “I’m an underwear model. This briefcase is full of briefs. Do you want to see them?”

Tom Otterness's little people witness every kiss and hug in "Life Underground"

* * *

And so goes life on the busiest public transportation network in the Western hemisphere.

Game for a ride?

Getting on the subway at Times Square, the busiest station in the MTA system

The bilingual eat.shop.play.love feature in Cacao Magazine

* * *

Little Pixy Boots on Shop: Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day in Singapore! I almost feel ashamed that I almost never shopped anything for my mum this day, except bring her to a restaurant or make a homemade card for her. This year, I cooked a breakfast of mushroom-cheese omelette for her with a side of toast, salad sprouts and cherry tomatoes.

For some, red carnations means Mother's day

As you can clearly see, I have a hidden agenda to convert my meat-devoted mum to a healthy vegetarian diet. I apologise that I'm not a food blogger so I didn't take a picture of the omelette I made... but I think my parents appreciate that I can cook and don't do an indecent job of it :p

One thing I want to examine within myself today is whether one truly needs to shop for a gift in order to be "sincere" in congratulating or showing love to loved ones. I have always been feeling slightly guilty that ever since young, I've felt that the one (and sometimes only) thing I could do when it comes to friends' or family's birthdays, was to make home-made cards or presents. That's because over the years, my income has been unstable due to freelancing, and when I was younger, I was ingrained with a thrifty mentality because my pocket-money was quite small.

My friends and family have all expressed much gratitude over the years about the beautiful home-made cards I've made, even though a lot of them are made from recycled material. I told them it's because I can't afford to buy expensive presents, so the only way I can show love and well-wishes, is to give up my time to make cards and express how I feel.

And since this is Mother's Day, maybe I can show you what I made for my Mum's birthday last year (the ones made in my childhood are slightly too kiddish).

A hug for my mum

I was in Norway then so I think my mum was really touched to have received this card from me. Actually looking at this, I think I still draw in a rather kiddish manner, albeit a more skillful way. I don't make apologies for it - I just like this style.

When I was in England with my favourite friend, Hobbit, I adopted his mum to be my mum because she is so generous at heart and such a well-bred lady in true British upper-class manner. So I drew her a really simple card for her birthday:

The Mother Figure

Even though I'm not a little girl, and neither is she a mermaid (check out the legs), I thought that us walking hand in hand towards a sunset was nice.

There were other times when I feel so much appreciation for my team members at volunteer work or friends that I make a range of cards. I like to think they prefer cards to chocolates. Just a highlight:

Holiday in Norway

This card is called "Holiday in Norway", because I was having a holiday in Norway then. Duh. Very creative, pixy. Drew a bit of the grass and the sky around :)

But the card I was most proud of, but least appreciated (or so I heard), is this one:

"Dream"

I had spent a lot of effort on this card, cutting up bits and bobs from my old photographs, digging up leaves I collected from my travels, buying feathers and embellishments and making sure the paper is shaded to a nice aged maroon colour. I had to pass to the intended receiver via the family secretary. Guess what happened when I had the chance to ask him afterwards if he has seen it?

He gave me a puzzled look and said he has had a pile of cards and presents from well-wishers and he hasn't opened them all, so apparently his housekeeper must have cleared them up for him - which means he has probably not and never will, see this card.

Ah well.... the heartache of giving and not having the gift received.

I do wonder how people can in their ignorance, treat other's love and well-wishes lightly. Perhaps they are just not very appreciative.

Sometimes I wonder if the act of giving has become commercialised and "stereotyped" by the media and society around us. For example, is it a life-and-death matter for a female to receive a diamond ring for her engagement or wedding (I would like a carat, thank you)?

I for one, haven't received any diamond ring from my husband just yet. What I'm wearing now is a rather inexpensive ring, but I know very well without the diamonds that prevailing culture demands, that he loves me very very much. A cold stone of the hardest substance on earth, isn't going to represent the depth of his heart.

To me, every trial we go through, every kiss, every hug, and every ounce of respect and equality he gives me, is a diamond in itself. Because I know, that in so many societies and cultures in the world, women don't get the respect that they deserve, nor do they get equality, including Singapore.

the ring that is not made of the hardest substance in the world

So yes, I don't have a diamond on my finger, but I think I am the richest woman in the world.

I've come to realise that in the act of giving, whether it be a home-made card or a diamond ring, the most important factor is that the gratitude/love expressed was received.

So remember, you don't need an expensive present to show your appreciation for your mum. Give your mummy a nice big hug today (and tell her you love her)!

Hugs are immediately appreciated, methinks :)

Happy Mother's Day!

xoxo

pixy

P.S. I'm back in Singapore (just in time to participate in the exciting elections 2011!) and will be going home in a week...my Norwegian home with spring flowers! Oooooo... I do get a little frustrated sometimes when I've been in Norway 3 times for spring and missed the cherry blossoms in my garden there. I am praying that the flowers would wait for me to come back!