Do you ever find it annoying when you see fashion magazines where the model is in her Valentino dress and her Saint Laurent heels right next to a dumpster in some gritty unrecognizable part of some big city? And do you ever ask yourself how the hell did that uptown girl end up in that part of town?
Well in Hong Kong me and my Saint Laurents end up in that part of town all the time. Not because I am so cool, but because the city is so bloody small. I had a girl's dinner at Giando's at Fenwick Pier tonight, but as double yellow lines everywhere around the pier prevented cabs from stopping within a 2 mile radius, I found myself walking on the fly-over towards deep down and dirty Wanchai in my Saint Laurents thinking where is the bloody Sartorialist when you need him? So I took my own picture, sans the heels, sans the Valentino dress (but that's because I don't own such a dress).
And when I got home to the Peak I wondered why my house smelled so nice. I followed my nose towards my downstairs lounge only to realize it was real live flowers, which lovely Alexandra had brought me on Saturday. When you live in Hong Kong you get accustomed to fake flowers so quickly, you may forget about your Dutch heritage - shame on me - and you may end up buying your flowers in plastic versions. I have done so for at least 3 years but now I am thinking what the hell was I thinking? because there is nothing like coming home from deep down and dirty Wanchai to a house full of fresh flowers.
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