15: THE DEVIL WEARS PRATA (DISCOURTESY IS A MANY BRANDED THING)

People are so into branded stuff these days. Just this evening, I overheard a conversation between two young ladies on the MRT which ended with one of them announcing petulantly, for the benefit of all and sundry, “I WOULDN’T BE CAUGHT DEAD  WITH AN UNBRANDED HANDBAG!” Then with a shrug, and a flick of her branded curls, she made a dramatic exit at Ang Mo Kio, her Elvee (they all looked like Elvees to me) swinging at my face.

As the saying goes – if you can’t beat them, join them. So this is where I tell you, and I confess, that I have been into branded stuff all my life. My T-shirts, sleeveless in Penang, THREE LEGS RUNNING. My school shoes, MESTI TAHAN, (Malay for "Lasting") and my watch, WINGO.  Even my towels are branded. My towels, well, my towels, GOOD MORNING.

No, not wishing you Good Morning. That was the only brand  everyone, who is anyone, uses. Back in those days,  I WOULDN’T BE CAUGHT DEAD WITHOUT IT.

They don’t make them like they do before – cheap and good. Nowadays, a handbag can set you back 100k. Called a “Bear-Skin” or something  like that. Apparently, the wife of a high official in a neigbouring state has a collection. How many bears have they killed? Sigh. Animal Conservation groups, where are you?

Then there’s Cursting Tall. I cursed  the first time I saw a Cursting Tall evening gown adorning  the exquisite figure of a 7 foot tall mannequin. They must be mad. Where in the world can they find a woman who is 7 foot tall? I was curious and walked up to the mannequin and stuck a thumb tack into it and a 6 ft 6 inches, with a pair of 6 inches stiletto) screamed and started chasing me. I was young (11), good looking but never been chased by a woman of that proportion before.  I developed a phobia for any female creature big and tall. And I stopped growing. Still considering a multi-million suit against Cursting Tall.

 And Gushee. Everyone owns a Gushee. Including MM who boasted that hers didn’t come  from  Patpong. I know. A friend of a friend who accidentally divulged a dark secret in her presence bribed her so that she will keep her Mighty Mouth shut. Which means that secret is not a secret any more.

There are brands I cannot pronounce, much less spell. I once saw a poster advert which showed  a watch that could have cost me 40 months salary (before CPF). I think it was an Alamak Piglet. Stupid people. I rather buy 1000 piglets and start farming if I had that kind of money.

Chopapart. What a name! Or maybe it was just what it says. It can be chopped into two, and like what they say in tai-chi, you take one part and I take one part, when the marriage falls apart. Bad omen brand, if you ask me.

Which brings me to my favorite person. It is strange that any mention of "bad omen" and my creative juices start flowing. I was told that when she was a young woman, my MIL was into branded stuff too. She could not afford branded watches and other accessories. So she splurged on branded make-up. She started with Seeshadow until one day a blind date dropped her like a ton of bricks after telling her that her shadow looks better then herself in person. She switched to Elizabeth Harden. What a waste, spending all that money on a product like that when she already has a natural hard look.

When she turned 65 for the 20^th times (at least) she had the nerve to ask me to take her shopping for “something suitable” at the Hour Glass. She must be mad.  I don’t know what they sell at the Hour Glass. I don’t intend to find out. But I did tell her politely that I will take her to the Hour Glass when she has a figure like one. She has no sense of humor at all. And I still have a black eye to prove it.

At long last, after years of coaxing, she agreed to celebrate her 66 birthday.   So as usual, I humored that woman “What shall I get for you, mother?”

And mother asked for something unbelievable. Unfathomable. Indescribable. For once, I relented. I gave in. Please the old lady. Make her happy.

So, for her birthday, I ordered 250 roti pratas from Seletar. She now have to put her sewing skills to work. Maybe, just maybe, on her birthday, I will finally get to see 
THE DEVIL WEARS PRATA!