The MBT Conundrum

Hello all, not sure if I’m missed at all… It’s been too long and I’m guessing you know I’ve been busy with work. Fashion used to mean the world to me and now with responsibility to write about Travel, Food and what not, this little indulgent space has been eaten up just slightly. OK, don’t tut. I vow not to neglect Kiwibiwi anymore.

So, I am in the Far East, writing for a cool little magazine known as Time Out (yes yes, chill on the applause). Unfortunately the Kiwibiwi name is yet to suffice for a creation of a little column on the magazine yet, but when that happens, you have my word, I’ll let the world know.

Anyway, I’ll cut out the Bryanboy style self-promotion crap and cut straight into fashion instead. MBT. MBT. Have you not heard of it? Well they are pretty big here on our tiny island. If I call them the sandal companion of the Ugg, maybe you’ll get the gist of it?

Well first, UGG had no medicinal purpose. At best it is only a pair of snug, warm, comfortable and friendly thingy migjig to wear below sub-zero. I personally detest cold, sweaty feet. And so naturally I’ll opt for a pair of Ugly. Yes, fashion is for life, but not for taking my life you know. Cold feet kills.

Here, you have got this gorgeous pair of hydrocarbon by-product which looks like a pair of synthetic soles for the amputated. It is an anti-christ of ugly. It’s fugly.

I try to keep an open mind. I mean, I love Chanel’s clogs. But wait, it doesn’t mean I also love Louis Vuitton’s minging version. So: just that I can lower my standard to love Ugg, doesn’t mean I have to love Fug.

So when you are faced with this Fug every other minute on the street where temperature hits 35 (celcius, not the stupid system the Americans use), how can my blood not boil?

I don’t understand how a pair of shoes which makes you look injured can go centre stage. I don’t understand how an elegant top from Maison Margiela can be teinted with such fugliness. I set out to find a culprit. Who’s this fashion dementor who’s made my street so uninhabitable? Well, unfortunately, the fashion crime mastermind turns out to be a person that I actually like.

Voila, the fashionista who thinks out of the box (for a start, “thinking” isn’t a behaviour known for homo sapiens in Hong Kong. So for her to “think” out of the box is something pretty Bill-Gates-Foundation-extraordinary. PS, Susie Bubble is an exception to this rule for she’s not really a Hong Konger anymore. Don’t protest darling I know your permanant address ends with a postcode).

Her name is Tsui Ho-ying, more narrowly known as Hilary Tsui, owner of the fashion store ‘Liger’.

She schoepentoetered MBT onto the fashion forefront in Hong Kong. And for what reason I don’t know. But she deserves a gold star for fashion thinking. Although you can safely say her style (questo season anyway), is defined by four things and four things only: 1. shoulder pads 2. harem trousers 3. leather leg warmers (in the summer!?) 4. celine (bags, clogs you name it), you must seriously give her a round of applause for 1. creating a fashion brand totally detached from the norm norm in the mass production haven 2. being an independent working mum (unfazed by the pocket money and a tai-tai lifestyle she might get from husband Eason Chan, a creme de la creme pop star in the asia pacific) 3. for propelling such ugliness onto a regional stage (god forBID this MBT business for going global, but if it did, I’ll still be happy for Hilary and I seriously need to rethink my tone of writing)

Hilary’s blog:

Liger Store, 1/F, No. 11 Pak Sha Road, Causeway Bay. (Occupational Hazard. If you read Time Out, you know what I’m talking about)