Shanghai'd
I have returned to Nanjing today 1000 RMB poorer but carrying sacks of fabric purchased at Shanghai's bizarre bazaar of silk, wool, cotton, and mildly disturbing synthetic blends.
Throughout the law school application process, I promised myself that I would have some clothes made after I finished with everything. So immediately after pressing the "send" button yesterday on my electronic applications, I hopped on a train to Shanghai to go fabric hunting.
Three stories of fabric hustlers is any clothing lover's fantasy. More interesting than the various (LOUD) patterns of imported Thai silk was the process of bargaining with the booth tenders. In one dramatic moment, I stared down a cashmere vendor.
"I give this fabric to Shanghai people for 260RMB/m!"
"200"
"How can I give it to you for that little?"
"Look! I'm giving you ALL of my money!"
"Ok, let's be friends here!"
I might have spent an ungodly sum of money on material to make an overcoat, but at least I will be wearing cashmere this season. How many people do you know who can say that?
* * *
When I told my Chinese friend that I was going to have some clothing made, he noted that only "unemployed, middle aged women" have their clothing made in China. It turns out that the service is popular with foreigners as well. At the fabric market, I spotted an inordinate number of dapper French people and perky American flight attendants having new duds done.
This whole weekend, I have been living and breathing cloth. Before leaving Nanjing, I checked out the local fabric market - where unemployed middle aged women DO shop to make cut-rate clothing - as well as several upscale department stores. The purpose of the exercise was to get a feel for fabric - what I like, what I hate, what's cheap, what's chic. While I was in Shanghai, too, I spent a lot of time scrutinizing the clothes of passers by. My conclusion? In China, at least, you can have clothes of much higher quality made for you at a cheaper price that those of what you find in department stores. Taking a closer look at what people were wearing, I was disgusted by the cheapness of the fabrics.
Welcome to late capitalism, folks! The sheer number of fabric mills in China and the diversity of their output ensure that fabric here is cheap and plentiful - and on par with anything you'll find in the ready-made clothes section of your shopping mall. Labor is so cheap in China that having clothes done for you by the local tailor costs only a song. Why, then, do the locals prefer their Labels?
Middle class Chinese are tremendously insecure about their status in the world. Only a few years ago they were lining up to use those coupons to buy oil and rice with the rabble from the factory. Now they need a way to differentiate themselves from the spitting, ill-groomed masses. Enter the automobile (preferably some expensive Teutonic import) and the Louis Vuitton bag!
The Bund, in Shanghai, is a district filled with art deco skyscrapers left over from the last economic boom in the 1920s. One thin strip of buildings along the Shanghai riverfront contains upscale restaurants and fashion outlets such as Cartier, Armani, and their European ilk. Immediately behind this facade of luxury are run-down tenement buildings, cheap motels, and seedy brothels. I ate my lunch in one of those fancy riverfront buildings today, and from the window I could see an old man in a Mao suit hanging his laundry outside to dry.
Affluent Chinese are crazy to prove that they're anything but that man in a Mao suit. Their real pain is that they can never escape him. With an army of the poor surrounding them, the only option is to buy a recognizable brand name and wear it proudly. Leave the bespoke clothing to the tourists and the poor.
Throughout the law school application process, I promised myself that I would have some clothes made after I finished with everything. So immediately after pressing the "send" button yesterday on my electronic applications, I hopped on a train to Shanghai to go fabric hunting.
Three stories of fabric hustlers is any clothing lover's fantasy. More interesting than the various (LOUD) patterns of imported Thai silk was the process of bargaining with the booth tenders. In one dramatic moment, I stared down a cashmere vendor.
"I give this fabric to Shanghai people for 260RMB/m!"
"200"
"How can I give it to you for that little?"
"Look! I'm giving you ALL of my money!"
"Ok, let's be friends here!"
I might have spent an ungodly sum of money on material to make an overcoat, but at least I will be wearing cashmere this season. How many people do you know who can say that?
* * *
When I told my Chinese friend that I was going to have some clothing made, he noted that only "unemployed, middle aged women" have their clothing made in China. It turns out that the service is popular with foreigners as well. At the fabric market, I spotted an inordinate number of dapper French people and perky American flight attendants having new duds done.
This whole weekend, I have been living and breathing cloth. Before leaving Nanjing, I checked out the local fabric market - where unemployed middle aged women DO shop to make cut-rate clothing - as well as several upscale department stores. The purpose of the exercise was to get a feel for fabric - what I like, what I hate, what's cheap, what's chic. While I was in Shanghai, too, I spent a lot of time scrutinizing the clothes of passers by. My conclusion? In China, at least, you can have clothes of much higher quality made for you at a cheaper price that those of what you find in department stores. Taking a closer look at what people were wearing, I was disgusted by the cheapness of the fabrics.
Welcome to late capitalism, folks! The sheer number of fabric mills in China and the diversity of their output ensure that fabric here is cheap and plentiful - and on par with anything you'll find in the ready-made clothes section of your shopping mall. Labor is so cheap in China that having clothes done for you by the local tailor costs only a song. Why, then, do the locals prefer their Labels?
Middle class Chinese are tremendously insecure about their status in the world. Only a few years ago they were lining up to use those coupons to buy oil and rice with the rabble from the factory. Now they need a way to differentiate themselves from the spitting, ill-groomed masses. Enter the automobile (preferably some expensive Teutonic import) and the Louis Vuitton bag!
The Bund, in Shanghai, is a district filled with art deco skyscrapers left over from the last economic boom in the 1920s. One thin strip of buildings along the Shanghai riverfront contains upscale restaurants and fashion outlets such as Cartier, Armani, and their European ilk. Immediately behind this facade of luxury are run-down tenement buildings, cheap motels, and seedy brothels. I ate my lunch in one of those fancy riverfront buildings today, and from the window I could see an old man in a Mao suit hanging his laundry outside to dry.
Affluent Chinese are crazy to prove that they're anything but that man in a Mao suit. Their real pain is that they can never escape him. With an army of the poor surrounding them, the only option is to buy a recognizable brand name and wear it proudly. Leave the bespoke clothing to the tourists and the poor.