Fashionably Late

So Blondie has this theory about Coach.  He says he hates all sorts of things...cheesy people, for example, or our favorite place to buy imports, the ironically named Good Price.  However, upon closer inspection, he doesn't really hate those things (because he sticks up for one particularly cheesy coworker, telling her what a great guy he is, and ends up going to Good Price a LOT).  I'm telling you this in spite of the fact that I don't want you to start thinking this about me.  See, I spent a lot of time whining about how much I hated fashion this spring.  Ugh - fashion!  Partially I hate it on principle - the idea that you have to keep up with the Joneses in your clothes?  Bitch, please.  My philosophy is, and always has been, to wear what makes you look good and feel comfortable.

However, I have been known to watch America's Next Top Model.  You know, when all the hip young hagwon teachers are watching it, it's difficult to not give in to peer pressure.  And I can't deny that it was fascinating.  Strictly because I'm an art teacher and I was interested in the artistic aspects of it, of course...not because I got into the dramas between all the girls, no no no.  Actually, I'm being serious on that account - I was dying at the time for lack of artistic stimulation, besides which, c'mon.  I was teaching Korean kindergarteners back then; what did the theatrics of a bunch of glorified Barbie dolls have on my darlings and their impressions of the Exorcist???

(And - ahem - it's possible that for about five minutes in fourth grade I wanted to be a model. But anyways.)

However, my interest or lack thereof in fashion aside, I found myself in charge of the school's Junk to Punk fashion show last spring.  I kicked against the pricks for the entire lead-up to it.  I "hate" fashion.  I HATE organizing things.  This was not a happy time for me.  I may have yelled at my favorite class a week before it happened.  And then it was over, and I found myself full of all sorts of ideas on how I was going to do it this year.  And when this year rolled around, and I pretty much could have gotten away with killing it, I didn't.  So you may have to listen to me bitch about it in another five months.

This long-winded explanation is intended to tell you why, in spite of it being Sunday and me being debilitatingly sick, I found myself catching a cab with Geek into the Chinggis Hotel on Sunday evening.  This spring I learned about a number of fashion shows that take place in UB over the winter, and I was determined that I'd make it to one of them...it was sure to give me ideas for my own fashion show, right???  If I got to see some super weird as outfits, well, hey - Bonus!  And from the first model to step out on the runway (top photo), that bonus was paid.  The few scantily clad male...glove models (I finally figured out the first collection was both shoes AND gloves, Geek!)...were just icing on the cake.

However, the slightly bizarre if totally enjoyable start progressed to B. Erdenechimeg's collection of bags and shoes that I dig even more now that I've seen the petroglyphs out in Bayan-Olgii.  The simple, abstract figures of this collection definitely called to mind the rock drawings we saw back in October.  Not only did I love the design, the materials and colors were gorgeous.

I even liked the styling on the models.  They were wearing frocks that could have fit two of them inside, but it was a nice, neutral backdrop that didn't detract from the accessories, and I'm guessing it's not easy to do a fashion show for accessories and keep people looking from being caught up in the clothing.  I liked the masks a lot of the models had as well.  They continued the theme with the petroglyphs and were made of felt.  I found myself wondering if I could figure out how to make one.

Sunday's show ended around 8:50 which put us home well before our teacher bedtimes, and since the Nyquil Five left me did such a fantastic job of sending me off to sleep I was feeling much improved on Monday.  As there was one more show, we decided we'd go again.  Shoes, purses, and gloves are all well and good, but we thought we'd enjoy seeing E. Enkhchimeg's Spring and Summer collection even more.  We even managed to convince Engrish to blow off whatever boring thing she would otherwise have been doing (such as watching Downton Abbey without me), and come with us.  This evening, alas, did not go as smoothly as the night before.  In fact, Geek might have seen me having a certifiable Ugly American moment, after every single damn decision I made turned out to be a bad one (try to bypass traffic?  HERE'S SOME MORE TRAFFIC!  Decide it's going to be faster to walk?  J/K - NO MORE TRAFFIC!!! U MAD?????)  After a fantastic dinner at Hazara (which I can't link you to because it's the one grub club I didn't write about), which fortunately Engrish was able to order for us, since she walked over from her posh downtown digs, we made it to the show, where we were relegated to the second row.  And then waited.  And waited.  And waited, until this lady came out and opened the show mere moments before Sunday night's finished.  Apparently we were waiting for some VIP jackass.

She was singing.  The song was almost over before Geek figured out that it was the piece the blue alien opera singer performs in the Fifth Element.  I was too busy looking at the monstrosity of a dress she was wearing to wonder what it was she was singing.  I hope that was a gratuity.  Actually, no.  I hope she was paid extra to wear that, because DAAAYUM!  (Ugh.  I'm starting to sound like my students.  Stop me by any necessary means if I crack out the YOLO's!)

Anyways, here are a few highlights:

Off to a classy start....

The peplum has made it to Mongolia.

Forgive me a bad pun...THE END.

Eventually, UB Fashion Week's final show did come to an end, and the designer came out to receive our accolades.  How can you tell she's the designer?  The fact that she's the better part of a foot shorter than everyone else is a pretty good sign (also: people gave her flowers).  Her shoes had heels as tall as the models but she was STILL that much shorter.  After they all had their last catwalk, the audience came up and took photos with the models.  Engrish and I found ourselves thinking the same thing...NOT FOR ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD!  Engrish had helped herself to one of the glasses of champagne that were being served, but she was going to need a lot more booze than that.  After all, gorgeous white women such as Domestic Goddess are one thing.  Being in a photo with a Mongolian model?  Not just no - Hell, no.  Geek, meanwhile was trying to figure out how to get backstage and steal a purple dress that had been modeled earlier.  Probably Engrish and I could have helped her with that by creating a diversion, but she would have needed more champagne for that, as well.

Rain on My Parade

Generally, each year at Naadam there is a festival of traditional dress, or deel, in Sukhbaatar Square.  Except apparently we're not calling it that anymore.  Apparently we've changed it to Chinggis Square.  Heaven only knows why we can't just keep it Sukhbaatar Square...I mean, I get that he was a communist hero and in the last year there's been a push to get away from their communist past, but come on.  The Big C was not on the only noteworthy Mongolian to ever walk the steppes.  And at this point, I realize I'm just shooting my mouth off about things I haven't really researched, so, you know, back to the Deel Festival.

One of the things that often drives me bat-shit crazy about Mongolia - as I've mentioned at least a couple of times before - is the inaccessibility of information.  I knew the festival was happening - hell, it was postponed, and for once I actually knew about both days - but I had no idea what time the bigger part of the festivities were happening, only that it was scheduled from 10-3.  So around 11 o'clock I arrived on Sukhbaa....Chinggis Square, and what should I find, even before getting to Mongolians in their national dress?  A ger made of potted flowers.  I love the randomness of living abroad, and this is one of those random moments.  I'm sure we do random things back home, too, but I can't see them because they seem normal to me.  A ger made out of flowers?  Not normal.  According to infoMongolia, this was part of a city-wide tarting up where 315 MILLION tugrugs were spent on floral decorations.  In case you don't know the conversion, that works out to $225,000 US.  On flowers.  Hell, we'd just like some smooth roads up here in Zaisan!

After checking out the flower ger, I started wandering around the square.  There were different stands set up with bits and pieces of deel.  I think you probably could have put them on to take pictures; I have a very limited amount of money to work with over the next two weeks, so I wasn't interested.  Instead I wandered around taking photos of people getting ready.  I actually found the article from English News about the postponement very informative.  Rather than just being an excuse to play dress up (because, really, who needs an excuse to play dress up?  I do it whenever I damn well feel like it!) it aims to make the deel more popular with younger Mongolians, for whom it is no longer an everyday fashion choice.  I wish I could give these kids an American perspective on it.  Them there young whipper-snappers ought to be grateful they HAVE a national dress...back in 'Merca we ain't got no such thing, a fact that perenially makes national dress day at whatever international school I am holed up at an awkward moment for my fellow Americans, who typically end up simply wearing the national dress of our host country (a look Fire Marshall and - to a lesser extent - Domestic Goddess owned last February).

There was a stage and a runway set up, but I didn't stay for the show.  I had no idea how long it was going to be til they got started, and Ceylonta was calling my name (yes, call me on it, Domestic Goddess, but I really DO have limited funds; I was just hungry!)  I hung around a little while and then wandered up the west side of the square, where I hit the jackpot.  I don't know if the Mongolians would have called it a parade, but it involved a band and a bunch of people marching around the parliament building to get to the square, and therefore, it looks and quacks like a parade of ducks.

I am not good at asking profound questions when people leave me.  Mostly at going away parties I sit there with tears welled up in my eyes looking extremely pathetic while I get what passes for drunk (for good little Mormon girls, at any rate) on Coke (Condoler of heartsick Mormon girls).  Five doesn't have that problem, and when we were at California's for one last round with Domestic Goddess, she asked what she was going to miss the most about Mongolia.  Her answer: little old Mongolian ladies and men in their deel.  Domestic Goddess would have loved this festival.  The place was absolutely crawling with them!

Anyways, I wandered off and had my lunch, and went off looking for Dashchoilon Monastery, which is supposed to have Tsam Dancing one of these days, although I am still tracking down the exact time.  As I was wandering, it started raining.  Hard.  Fortunately the spiffy backpack I bought for my camera came with a rain fly, so even though I got soaking wet, the Big Guns did not.  I assumed that everyone would be gone from the square by the time I got there, and figured I was right when I saw lots of people in their beautiful clothes leaving the square, but actually the fashion show (for lack of a better term) was still going on.  Or it was, until the rain started up again.  At that point, everyone with an umbrella got under it, while those that didn't huddled under the umbrellas of drink carts or any other shelter they could find.  One lady covered me with her umbrella and asked where I was going.  I thought this was one of the simplest and yet kindest things that's ever happened to me, but I was actually quite happy to get drenched.

Anyways, just a couple more photos for you - I've gone on just about long enough, but the Mongolian people in their national dress are just beautiful.  I wasn't joking around before; I really am jealous of this country's rich cultural heritage. 

Not to mention, you've got to love the bling.

Fabric Market Fun

Please note...the next installment may be called Fabric Market Folly. See, I decided I would be a "risk-taker" this weekend. I went out on a limb and brought the leather shop a sweater, asking them to copy it as a leather jacket. Only time (approximately two weeks) will tell if this turned out to be a good idea or a collosal waste of money.

One of my favorite things about Shanghai (right after JoAnn and our new PE teacher, whom I'll call Iron Man (he is not only smart but bears a vague resemblance to David Tennant AND has an ass you could bounce a quarter off of), is the fabric market. JoAnn and I finally got into it last spring, and for the last month of school we were going every Saturday. It. Was. Wonderful. Except when it wasn't. Let me explain. There's this building, three stories tall, jam-packed with little booths filled with fabric of all kinds and tailors to go along with it. And I do mean little...this is one of JoAnn and the Sarahs' favorite tailors - it can get claustrophobic at times, and some people (ahem, myself) may wander off to check out other things.

So, as you can see, there are samples hanging up all over, and in theory, you can walk in, pick out a garment you like (some of them copies of famous designers), select fabric, and a week or so later you'll have brand new clothes. I say "in theory" because sometimes this turns out to be a catastrophe. I've done this and had clothes come out that just will not work. They fit, but they look terrible. They look fine but the fit is uncomfortable. Whatever. You try your new clothes on, and the tailors do their best to fix them, when something is wrong, buuuuuuut...sometimes there's no fixing it. And sometimes you have to kind of compromise. Of the clothes I've ordered from examples, only one dress has been right the first time. The much safer route is to bring in something you already own and telling them to copy it. EVERYTHING I've brought in to copy has worked the first time, and this is one of the reasons I did SO much shopping this summer.

Which brings us to my sweater. I got it at Lord & Taylor while I was shopping clearance racks with the Evil One this summer, and it turned out to be really flattering. Sometime since then I've convinced myself that it would be a REALLY cool leather jacket, and JoAnn had success with one of the leather shops last spring, so I decided to take a chance. They had some concerns, but we agreed on a price and leather and they took my sweater and my measurements.

However, that wasn't all I ordered this weekend. I was going to punish myself for backsliding/encourage myself to lose weight by making myself wait until I'd taken off ten pounds. Then I spent Friday morning trying to figure out what I was going to wear to school on my dress up day (ie, the day I only teach one hour of art), and I realized how GOOD new and interesting clothes made me feel. I've been struggling to find a balance between accepting my body as it is and not giving up on trying to improve it. Well, wearing nice new clothes makes me feel a lot better about the shape I'm in (as does having the doctor tell me that my blood sugar and fat are totally normal, but that's a story for another day), and when I feel good, it's easier for me to make good choices, so roll on, South Bund Soft-Spinning Market! In the end I ordered five shirts, my leather jacket, a cushion-sized fitted sheet to go on the couch-cushion in my window seat (that's the sheet/quilt store above), and a Chinese-style floor pillow made with four different patterns of silk brocade (that one was a whim, but one that I'm really excited about!)