Singapore Day 4

Today started very slowly as there were phone conferences with Spain, Nevada, Melbourne and 

Laos. By the time work was over I just went out and walked around the giant shopping mall that is 

known as Orchard Road. I allowed myself to get lost in the underground labyrinth that keeps people 

out of the heat and still shopping.

Looking at all the shops I reflected on the importance of Western brands in Asia. 

It's not as if there aren't fabulous designers in Asia. From Japan alone there is Miyake Issei, 

Mori Hanae, Takada Kenzo, Kawakubo Rei and Maruyama Keita to name just a few.

And there are stand-alone branded Asian fashion stores: Shanghai Tang from Hong Kong 

and Comme des Garcons from Japan. I got on the web and discovered that in Singapore there

are four Shanghai Tang shops and one Comme des Garcons. But there are eight Bvlgari outlets, 

six Dior, five Fendi and three Chanel shops. As well as strong representations by Bally, Coach, 

Gucci, Zara, and Topshop and many more well known branded companies. 

It is starting to look like a flashy, trashy airport shopping centre.

Singapore is not alone. I've seen this trend in Hong Kong, Shanghai and Tokyo. I realise the 

same brands are to be found all around the world but there seems to be a heavy domination 

by them in Asia. I personally have a problem wearing logos. I feel that if I am going to become 

a walking advertisement for a particular company they can pay me. These brands are expensive,

by wearing them you are saying 'I can afford this' rather than an indication of your own tastes.

 If you're not confident in your own style then self-identification with someone-else's brand 

philosophy could invest you with self-worth. But it can't give you a sense of identity. 

It is borrowing another's values. 

Another megacity that I visit regularly is Mumbai. Western brands are well represented 

in the shopping malls of the large hotels but in the main shopping centres everything 

is Indian. Does this mean that Indians are more confident than Asians in their own 

style and don't feel the need to adopt an alien identity?

 

This identification of Western style includes the mannequins. In India I have seen mannequins 

that have been changed to make them look Indian, I haven't seen the same in Asia. I simply 

don't get a young Chinese girl identifying with a blond-haired, blue-eyed fashion display. 

 Earlier I mentioned Shanghai Tang. All of their designs have a cultural link to Chinese heritage, 

whether it's with the fabric design or a subtly upturned collar. Their clothes are recognisable by their 

style without the need for giant logos (although some of their designs have a small logo).

Chinese culture has a rich history of wonderful silks and exquisite embroidery. 

You see none of this in the shops or on the streets. 

 I continued to wander through shopping heaven or hell, whatever you feel about endless consumerism, in the hope that I would find a style that reflected the geographic area I was in.
 No such luck.

 Harley Davidson, Prada, Rolex, Tiffanys, Mui Mui and another Dior.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

 

 I was really disturbed by the lack of a 'Singapore" identity. 

That night we decided to revisit a place that we had eaten at over a decade ago.

We got a cab to Nelsons Circle. A long time ago the area was a ramshackle arrangement of 

food shacks in a vacant lot. It was noisy and colourful and full of amazing aromas.

It is now neat and tourist friendly. The dirt has been exchanged for concrete.

It is all well lit and, like the rest of Singapore, incredibly safe.

 But at least we found a true Singapore brand. Tiger beer.

 

 Now you are presented with menus from the numerous touts but the crabs and the 

oyster omelettes were still delicious.

 It's just a pity that yet another chaotic area of Singapore has been turned into a theme park.

Mannequins of the world

Mannequins are a mirror of how we would like to be, a glamorous alternative of who we are. 

In 1964 Adel Rootstein developed the first celebrity mannequin when she sculptured a 

14 year old Twiggy. Since then the "ideal glamour woman" has been used as a template, 

from Lynda Carter to Victoria Beckham, depending on current social preferences.

They also mirror our social times. After World War II mannequins were made with happy smiles

as they welcomed the troops home. In the months following 9/11 the mannequins in New York 

were sombre and draped in red white and blue. 

Six months later mannequins had lost their heads or their faces and the windows of New York 

were without glamour or personality. 

It took more than a year before frivolity returned.

 The mannequins of Hollywood Boulevard mirror a slightly tawdry, totally unreal sexuality.

Mannequins mirror the cityscape back at us on the windows they hide behind. City reflections 

take the mannequins out of the window and place them firmly in our world where they are very 

much alive. Like us.

New York

 The city they inhabit is familiar but is seen eerily in reverse.

Paris

 The city reflections put the mannequin in a time and space, from the skyscrapers of New York, 

to the grand emporiums of Regent Street London and to the country shop fronts of rural Australia.

London

Camperdown, Victoria

I began shooting mannequins in New York in 1977 and a fascination turned into an obsession 

and then a profession.

I’ve travelled the world trying to find mannequins that reflected the local community but I found 

the opposite. Chanel windows look the same in Tokyo, in Melbourne, in New York and all

places in between.

Tokyo

Madrid

 An aside about Chanel: for years they used mannequins based on Erin O’Connor and Ute 

Lemper, a couple of years ago they changed to a very ugly cheaper mannequin, much to the 

disgust of stylists.

Paris

I couldn’t find an Asian mannequin in Shanghai or Hong Kong.

Hong Kong

Shanghai

And now, world chains are rolling out their look throughout the world. Zara, internationally are 

using an abstract white mannequin that has graphic black elements added to it for a change.

Melbourne

 But I noticed last year, so it may have changed by now, in London Zara was still using realistic 

Rootstein mannequins.

I’d like to thank all stylists and visual merchandisers for dressing your city and making travel for 

me always exciting.

Paris

London

For a collection of world windows check this out

For more models of the world

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dianeworland/collections/72157618909900091/

Meeting tommequins and other insanity

There are many rules on web etiquette. Don’t use your real name. Don’t give out
personal details.  Don’t meet up with anyone you meet on the web.  And definitely
don’t travel over-seas to  meet up with anyone. Well I was about to travel to meet
 somebody I didn’t know, who came  across as being just a little odd on the web.
 I was going to meet tommequins.

A couple of years ago I joined the Flickr community. At the beginning I didn’t really
know how it worked and how you made contacts. There was no rhyme or reason in
the material I  put up. Professional work and happy snaps; everything went up.

For years I have been shooting reflections in shop windows and I put some of these on
line. Finally I started getting comments. A group of fashion professionals and mannequin collectors  started to tell me the names and manufacturers of the mannequins that I had been shooting. I was inducted into the arcane world of mannequin collectors.

Of particular interest were the photographs of mannequins by a company called Rootstein.

Adel Rootstein started in the 1960’s in swinging London. She was the first to use real people

 as a reference for her mannequins and her designs have a bit of a cult following.

One of the Flickrites who contacted me was tommequins. I noticed on his stream that
he had  been to the Rootstein Showroom in New York to see their new season’s mannequins. I was  going to New York and mailed him to see if he could give me a contact so that I could go there to  take photographs. Tommequins came up with a better idea. He would meet me at the showroom and drive me back to his place in Upper New York State to see his mannequin collection as well. Tommequins collects, restores and repairs mannequins as well as a thousand other things.

My husband was concerned and asked for all the details. Where was I going, who was I seeing  and what were their contact details. My information was pretty sketchy.

I dutifully arrived at the showroom and the staff  were fantastic. They put on the light 
and sound show that had accompanied the seasons launch and just left me to take
whatever  shots I wanted. The theme was Native American Indians and the costuming
was sensational.

Tommequins  arrived dressed appropriately in an Indian themed jacket. Introductions
were made and everything seemed alright. But then he decided to become part of the window display.  He lay down and put his ponytail in the hands of an Indian. It looked
as if he was being dragged off for a scalping. OK it was going to be an interesting day.

As we drove into his town I looked around and realised that it would be a perfect setting

for The Stepford Wives. Everything was perfect. The shops were all the same with very discreet signage; neon signs are forbidden and colours are prescribed. It was all so neat.
As we drove  through the equally neat back streets of trimmed hedges and raked lawns tommequins asked if I could guess which property was his. It was really easy. I guessed
that the property with the giant mannequins  and junk everywhere was his. The yard
even had a wire enclosure that was full of unloved naked mannequins. The neighbours
 must love the family next door.

There are several homes on the property and I was to discover that every basement
was full of mannequins in various stages of repair and disrepair. Tommequins introduced me to his brother who is also a collector; they both had the same maniacal twinkle in their eyes. What had I got myself into?

The first basement we visited was reached through a side entrance. As the doors were
thrown back all I could see were the spider webs stretching into the long, dark distance.
I’m an arachnophobe so made tommequins go first to break the webs. It was very dark and
that hid the spiders. But once I was down  there I forgot about them as I saw the amazing
sight before me. Talk about Kodak moments.

Tommequins’s brother came with us and as I edged through a door to capture more delights I heard him say “no-one knows where she is.....we could lock the door and leave her”. Hmm.

They told me a story of when the boiler in one of the basements needed repair. They arranged for the repairman to attend. Within a few minutes of his arrival he rang them saying that he was  too freaked out to stay and they needed to get someone else. All those bodies looking at him was just  too much. Fabulous setting for a teen horror flick.

The next basement looked as if a mannequin massacre had occurred. Body pieces
strewn everywhere. More cobwebs. More spiders.

We visited the studio which is where all the repairs are carried out. Every room 
including a toilet and every surface was crowded with heads.

 The variety is extraordinary ranging from very old wax heads from France to a
wonderful array of Art Deco displays.

We went through his home which has another wonderful collection. Every room in 
the house  is peopled with mannequins. If a burglar ever made the mistake of breaking
in, you’d hear them screaming as they ran away to hand themselves in. A place of nightmares.

His daughter has a couple of full-sized Rootstein Barbie Dolls, they are very precious to her.

 On being introduced to her tommequins told her that" the nice lady had come to take the Barbies on a plane back to Australia”. To her credit there was a little twitch of the lip and
a wince but then  she said very quietly “OK”.

 

I was introduced to his wife and breathed a sigh of relief at a modicum of normality. The first thing she asked me was if I believed in burial or cremation. Well so much for small talk.

It was a day of amazing visual over-load. Starting at the exquisite Rootstein Showroom 
and ending in a few creepy basements. Back in New York I rang my husband and let him know that I had survived the day.

He didn’t believe my description of the things I had seen until he saw the photographs.
Back in New York I celebrated a great day.

Visiting tommequins and his basements are now highlights of my annual trip to New York.

PS.  Thanks to all the mannequin set for your encouragement and advice.

I hope to eventually meet you all.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dianeworland/sets/72157623260592773/