If someone tasked avant-garde filmmaker Alejandro Jodorowsky with creating an opulent desert palace, drawing inspiration from Star Wars and the Royal Family, we imagine it would look something like Erth, Abu Dhabi. ERTH, meaning “legacy” in Arabic, is an architectural behemoth of a resort, and even to the most initiated globetrotter, this sun- soaked haven is an indelible feast for the senses.
Previously the home of the Armed Forces Officers Club & Hotel, ERTH has been re-imagined as a unique destination for the ultimate Emirati experience, providing authentic cuisine and activities located in the heart of Abu Dhabi.
Comprised of six restaurants, a blue-flag certified private beach, swimming pool, indoor and outdoor recreational hub, fitness centre and a gym, a recently added ballroom, and offering 237 rooms, 42 suites and 13 villas, you’ll be lucky if you don’t get lost, but our instincts tell us that you secretly might want to.
Let’s be honest, we’ve all been to those hotels that claim to offer a fitness centre, but upon arrival one is quickly disheartened to find all but one treadmill and perhaps a few free weights that don’t exceed 10kg. ERTH makes no such empty promise. If you’re looking to hit a new PR on the bench press, or attempting to eclipse Michael Phelps as the fastest man in the water, then the Olympic-sized swimming pool or the plethora of gym equipment will quench all your fitness needs, and then some. Gym, beach, food, is the order of activities we’d humbly suggest.
For those looking for a tranquil escape from their daily routines, the serene and rejuvenating ERTH resort will leave you wanting more, if not extending your stay for just a few extra days.
As Jerry Seinfeld once said, “there’s no such thing as fun for the whole family,” and although that may be true more often than not, in this instance, we’ve finally proved him wrong.
Originally published on Esquire ME
We've long been accustomed to Western and European influences dominating pop culture and fashion. However, in recent years, Asian cultures have made profound impacts. They have steadily carved out their own distinctive niches. K-pop and anime have exploded in popularity, showcasing the nuanced aesthetics of traditional and contemporary Asian design. Chinese social media platforms like Douyin (Chinese TikTok) and Little Red Book (Xiao Hong Shu) are also driving this cultural shift, further amplifying Asia's influence. These platforms are shaping global trends and influencing consumer behaviour.
As you explore this list of Asian menswear brands, you'll find yourself immersed in a new world of fashion. There's no mere mimicking of Western styles; instead, it is a pioneering of unique and innovative approaches ripe for exploration and appreciation.
Post Archive Faction (PAF), a South Korean brand founded in 2018, is known for its utilitarian garments made from performance-specific materials. However, labelling it simply as an outdoor brand would not do it justice. PAF offers more than practical clothing, which likely led to it being shortlisted for the LVMH Prize in 2021.
The brand has showcased at Paris Fashion Week and launched a collaboration with Off-White, partnering with the late Virgil Abloh. Its "left, right and centre" approach to collections stands out the most, inspired by South Korea's political system. Each collection features a numbering system, indicating updates to previous models and designs.
Established in 2021 by Kartik Kumar, Kartik Research is an artisanal brand based in New Delhi, India. With a mission to "reintroduce humanness into clothing," it counters fast fashion's overproduction by prioritising craftsmanship and quality. Its collection showcases a human touch, with handcrafted shirting and quilts dyed using plants and herbs. Each piece bears hand-stitched embroidered details, embodying uniqueness and imperfection. Kartik Research strives to revive forgotten Indian craftsmanship, offering a blend of heritage and contemporary aesthetics.
Each collection draws inspiration from a subculture within India's heritage. The latest Autumn/Winter 2024 collection titled "Delhi-Jodhpur", explores the fractured dialogue of India. The collection blends emotional connections to India's past with optimism for its future. Shot at a sandstone mine in Jodhpur, it symbolises this dialogue, juxtaposing the aesthetic utopia of the past with the realities of modern commerce.
After graduating from Central Saint Martins in London, Taiga Takahashi moved to New York to hone his skills. Starting with cloth and textile, he expanded his practice to include sculpture, architecture, installation, and performance. Takahashi's work embodies a philosophy inspired by the ancient Japanese sense of beauty, refined through time and historical relics.
Describing himself as a "sartorial archaeologist," he draws inspiration from his extensive archive of American garments spanning the 18th to 20th centuries. In his designs, he transforms elements from these archives with each garment telling its own unique story.
In his art, cloth serves as a canvas where craft, design, history, and art converge seamlessly. This concept drove him to found his label T.T Gion in New York in 2017, and later established an integrated Kyoto-based art space and Tea Ceremony in December 2021.
Unfortunately, Takahashi passed away unexpectedly in the spring of 2022. His team continues his legacy, designing garments that draw from the past, are made for the present, and will endure into the future.
Doublet, the streetwear brand founded by Masayuki Ino in 2012, won the LVMH Grand Prize in 2018. Its debut Spring/Summer collection was unveiled in 2013, featuring casual daily wear infused with a sense of uniqueness. The novelty and unique details enhance the avant-garde and distinctly Japanese character of its designs.
The brand has showcased its collections at Tokyo Fashion Week and, as of summer 2022, Paris Fashion Week. Doublet has 25 stockists worldwide including Dover Street Market. Despite the fast-growing presence of the brand, it manages to maintain its relatively underground presence.
In 2016, Liu Dan Xia (Dan) and Shan Peng Wong (Shan) founded Danshan. The design duo strive to disregard gender archetypes and instead explore what is beneath the façade of machoism and strength. Danshan delves into the nuanced aspects of contemporary male existence, dissecting the evolution of male body language and investigating methods to imbue a masculine silhouette with femininity, all while respecting the traditional boundaries of menswear.
Growing up during the era of the "Single Child policy" in China, where sons were often favoured, Dan was raised as a boy by her family until the age of 12 due to societal pressures. Her unorthodox upbringing profoundly influences the brand's ethos, manifesting in garments crafted from "softer" fabrics traditionally associated with femininity.
Launched in 2021 by designer Hung La, Lựu Đạn emerged during the George Floyd protests and Stop Asian Hate movement. The brand delves into the intricacies of Asian identity, symbolised by its name, which combines "pomegranate" and "bullet" in Vietnamese to signify a "dangerous man." Embracing rich-coloured palettes, nostalgic prints, and bold silhouettes, Lựu Đạn pays homage to heritage while celebrating new legacies within its community. Celebrities like Billie Eilish, Justin Bieber, K-pop idols such as Felix (Stray Kids) and Heesung (Enhypen) have been spotted wearing Lựu Đạn.
Born and raised in Taiwan, Peng Tai graduated from the London College of Fashion in 2017 and moved to Paris. His eponymous brand actively explores the relationship between nature, humans, and cities, featuring two distinct lines: the main line and the "meditation room." His design philosophy, deeply rooted in the ancient Chinese principles of yin-yang and the five elements, seeks a precise balance.
Incorporating the five elements—earth, wood, metal, fire, and water—Peng Tai aims to achieve harmony through balanced design. The meditation room line leverages the power of Chinese medicine, using fabrics dyed with Chinese herbal medicine to blend traditional wisdom with contemporary fashion.
Established in 2019 by Danish streetwear enthusiast Tobias Billetoft and Korean designer Sangchan Lee, HGBB STUDIO seamlessly blends regional influences, reflecting their shared ideals. The collections are rooted in utilitarian shapes, enhanced with stylistic flourishes in fabric and detail.
HGBB STUDIO aims to transcend the "visual expression" of established brands by addressing rapidly changing trends and catering to a trend-oriented generation. They strive to carve out a unique identity through diverse projects and collaborations with independent partners.
Phyn Studio epitomises contemporary streetwear with its effortlessly cool vibe and a focus on gender fluidity, crafted by designer Phoenix Tan. Recently, the brand partnered with Levi’s for an upcycle denim workshop, transforming old denim into unique accessories. Tan also curates projects like Morph by Phyn, which deconstructs and reconstructs objects into new forms. Additionally, Phyn Studio collaborated on a capsule line for the 2022 Hennessy x NBA partnership.
Josh Tirados, a Filipino-born, Singapore-based designer and multidisciplinary artist, debuted his gender-neutral label last year with the collection 01-Anino. Working with deadstock fabrics, Tirados handcrafts nearly all his garments. His creations are often characterised as romantic workwear with subtle sensuality, influenced by his background in the Japanese dance form Butoh. They showcase neutral earthy tones, meticulous tailoring, and rustic textures. Alongside his clothing line, Tirados also designs his own jewellery and accessories.
It is generally bad practice to take sitcom theme songs at their word. But ever since Cheers debuted, our culture has normalised the idea that sometimes we want to go where everybody knows our name. As a lifelong extrovert in his 50s, I must be clear: Your general outlook about wanting to go where everybody knows your name will change once they know your name at Walgreens. My pharmacist and I have known each other by name for some time, but now whenever I approach the counter, she just says, “The usual?” (Statins, for the record. Neat.)
Sometimes you want to go where there is zero chance anyone will even ask your name, and if there is Skee-Ball at this place, all the better. This is why in the year 2024, I have adopted my dumbest habit yet, and I am a grown man with a favourite scratch-off ticket. I now go—no more than once a week but also no less than once a week—to Dave & Buster’s for a weekday lunch. By myself. And I love it.
To paraphrase Ray Parker Jr: Dave & Bustin’ makes me feel good. The whole thing began with Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, a 12-week “spiritual path to higher creativity” I’ve been doing with a Zoom accountability group. One weekly assignment is to take yourself on an “artist date,” to find an activity nourishing to the artist within. I was having trouble coming up with ideas, and after I took my inner artist to see Saltburn, our relationship was strained. I closed my eyes, and my soul spoke in images: That familiar blue-and-orange logo came into focus. Oh, so you are an idiot, I whispered to my inner artist. Thank God.
I’d always imagined Dave & Buster’s as Chuck E Cheese for grown-ups, and my assessment wasn’t far off: It’s Pac-Man and Super Shot and shoot-’em-ups where you take out zombies with full-size rifles tied to the console. There is no animatronic band of anthropomorphic vermin, but there is plenty of the indistinct pop music one typically hears only inside an Uber, so it evens out. It’s a carnival midway that never moves to the next town, and it has a bar in it. There’s a lot to love is what I’m saying.
The unfortunate fact about grown-ups is that some of them will choose to have children, and those children will need a place to celebrate birthdays. So after school and on weekends, Dave & Buster’s becomes Chuck E Cheese. These times are to be avoided. Let them have the run of the place on a Saturday afternoon.
Your time to Dave & Bust is at 1am on a Tuesday. You’ll be one of no more than eight people—always male, always unaccompanied. As you roam, you will struggle to avoid eye contact with these men, and they with you. You will be united by a common shame and a common quest for digital points to be accrued on your Power Card. The floor of Dave & Buster’s feels like the cruising area of a public park but without the faintest possibility of sex. It is a blinking-light district. You will have found your people, and you will know they are your people because they don’t want to talk to you either.
I was immediately drawn to Super Shot, which I now consider the only acceptable way to play basketball. To shoot hoops in a gym is to risk being asked to join a pickup game, and I must ball in a space where there is no chance of accidental team sports. If I’m going to do badly—and I am—I need it to be in a place too full of distractions for anyone to notice. (There’s also a hybrid of Super Shot and Connect Four, so I can ponder my lack of athletic ability and strategic thinking together, in noisy peace.)
My Dave & Buster’s—in the already tragic heart of already tragic Hollywood—is capable of legitimate visual poetry. By the front door, there’s a DoorDash rack. So this means either there are people in LA who actually crave the Dave & Buster’s 14oz rib eye outside the arcade, or there’s a Dave & Buster’s chef in LA who maintains hope that such a person exists. I don’t know which makes my heart ache more. Though it’s a trick question, because neither makes my heart hurt more than the double-pepperoni flatbread on the Shareables menu.
I’ve struck up exactly one conversation at Dave & Buster’s, and it was a short one, because we didn’t speak the same language. “I visit from Stuttgart,” said the stranger next to me cheerfully as he housed his all-American cheeseburger. “Ok!” I replied. We nodded at each other for a while, and that was pretty much that. I came away happy for him. He’d shown himself the real America. An enclosed space, dense with bright things for us to stick our money into. All of us using our talents to get more and more of a currency that is worth less and less. All of us too distracted by the shiny logos to pay attention to any one thing for too long. At least here the guns don’t have bullets in them.
After a few weeks, I earned enough points on my Power Card to buy a travel tumbler with the D&B’s logo and the words “DING DING DING.” Even when inanimate, Dave & Buster’s is deafening.
We’re living in a time of maximum stupidity, and sometimes the answer is to surrender to it. Feed your inner artist warm pretzel sticks with your choice of dipping sauces. Then come back to your regular (and maybe equally noisy and stupid) life refreshed. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your shame. That’s Dave & Buster’s by yourself at lunchtime on a weekday. Hey, it’s no dumber than being a Disney adult.
Originally published on Esquire US
What began as a simple e-commerce venture has now expanded into over five stores in Singapore, with branches reaching Japan, the Philippines, and most recently, Thailand. Beyond The Vines makes its debut in the country's capital with the opening of the Beyond The Vines Design House in CentralWorld Bangkok, a milestone that marks a significant step forward in the brand's ongoing evolution and global expansion.
This new 3,500-square-foot space in CentralWorld Bangkok is not only the brand's first Design House but also its largest store to date. Staying true to its signature style, the store features playful geometric shapes, bold colours and clean lines. The Design House presents an elevated concept, utilising innovative materials and interactive elements that embody the brand's forward-thinking ethos.
The space exudes a modern and dynamic atmosphere, blending industrial elements like brushed stainless steel and original concrete walls. It also explores a variety of materials, including EPDM, raw plywood, and glossy tiles for flooring. The brand's signature use of clear polycarbonate twin wall sheets add depth and texture, enhancing the overall design.
This milestone coincides with the launch of Beyond The Vines' latest iteration of its popular Dumpling bag. First introduced in 2019, the Dumpling bag is crafted to perfectly balance style and functionality. The new Denim Dumpling bag maintains the classic silhouette while introducing a new material for the series for the first time since it was launched. The Denim Dumpling bag is available in two distinct finishes—wash and foil—for a truly new take that sets it apart from the rest.
The Beyond The Vines Denim Dumpling bags are now available in all stores and globally online.
It just feels so wrong. you take a single, gorgeous amaro—which probably has a semi-secret recipe perfected and handed down through generations—and shake the absolute hell out of it with ice in a cocktail tin. Isn’t that a sin against the liqueur gods? These bittersweet liqueurs, primarily from Italy, should be sipped room temperature or slightly chilled following an epic dinner and used in fancy aperitivo cocktails, right?
The original shakerato, the caffè shakerato, has been a fixture in Italy for decades. A bit of coffee, sugar, and ice, shaken and strained, results in something like an NA precursor to the espresso martini. At the historic bar Camparino in Milan, this same technique is applied to the classic amaro Campari. The method has slowly taken off in the United States among cocktail nerds, and it coincides with the broader rise in popularity of amaros. It’s easy to see the appeal: They typically have a lower ABV than whiskey or tequila, and Gen-Z loves a less boozy or NA cocktail. Plus, they’re authentic. If White Claw is practically digital, nothing feels more analogue than an amaro. And amaro labels look cool, dude.
Can you really call an amaro shakerato a cocktail when a cocktail has, by most definitions, at least three ingredients? Well, when you think about the make-up of amaros— mixtures of various sweet, bitter, and herbaceous ingredients—that’s pretty much what cocktails are. They are, in many ways, the original bottled cocktails.
What happens when you shake an amaro is the same thing that occurs when you shake any drink with sugar content: You dilute and chill the drink while everything aerates, emulsifies and integrates. The most important aspect to making a successful shakerato is the aeration. You need to shake it harder than you’ve ever shaken anything before and with less ice (or no ice). That is what will give you your fluffy head.
The technique works differently with every amaro—generally speaking, the higher the sugar content, the foamier the crema. We’ve tested a bunch and picked a few of our favorite amaros to shake (at right). You can experiment with drinks that blend two amaros together, like, say, the Ferrari—a combination of Fernet- Branca and Campari, more commonly served as a shot but, we think, much better in shakerato form.
Perhaps you’ve never liked amaros. Some people find them syrupy, almost medicinal. Chances are, though, that you’ll be won over by the shakerato. The technique softens and lengthens the amaro’s flavours to create an altogether different taste profile—one that provides a refreshing surprise. Love Negronis and espresso martinis but want something different? Again, the shakerato is the answer. It may never be as popular as those drinks, it might never become a TikTok trend, but being an under-the-radar classic has more cachet anyway.
There is no one way to make a shakerato, but there are some guidelines you can use to get the aeration and emulsification right. I find that the simplest thing to do is to shake the amaro with just a few cubes. This makes it easier for the air to mix into the drink. Use a Boston shaker or a martini shaker. And shake it hard. Like as hard as you can, for about 10 seconds. Do it enough and you’ll know when it’s got the right consistency. Then strain it into a glass.
A lot of pros do something called a reverse dry shake, which will give you a more robust crema. After you strain, return the contents to the shaker, shake some more, and then pour it into a coupe. It’s a simple enough cocktail for your party guests to shake on their own, too.
Originally published on Esquire US
When, last year, customs officers at Los Angeles Airport spotted a number of small packages marked "bracelet’, "decoration" and "wall clock", their suspicions were aroused. And, rightly so. Opening them, they found USD1.3m worth of watches: Panerais, Patek Philippes, Omegas and lots of Rolexes. Or, at least, that’s what they would have cost had they been real. In fact, all 41 of the watches were fakes.
They also represent just a tiny fraction of the global trade in counterfeit watches, sales of which boomed over the pandemic, as the bored or comfortably-off looked online to fulfil their horological cravings. Figures are hard to rely on but upwards of an estimated 40 million fakes are circulated every year, according to the Federation of the Swiss Watch Industry, some 25 per cent more than the Swiss watch industry produces itself.
Those fakes make for a business worth USD3 billion dollars a year—with a record year of 2013 seeing 90,000 fakes confiscated in Dubai alone, the city the Federation identifies as one of the key strategic storage hubs through which fakes are then exported internationally in those many small packages. Watches now account for between 20 and 35 per cent of all sales of counterfeit consumer goods—that’s despite them being illegal in most countries.
Not that this seems to dissuade anyone buying a fake. Or those who manufacture them—mostly in China, Hong Kong, Singapore and, chasing cheaper labour, increasingly Vietnam and Thailand—often on sophisticated factory lines also making legitimate parts for the legitimate watch industry. They’ll take an order for so many “Rolex-style” cases, for example, as they would for any other watch component. Bit by bit these various components come together at various locations and, at some nebulous point involving the application of brand names, a look-a-like becomes a counterfeit and a criminal matter.
“The battle against the counterfeit watch market is very hard to win. It’s really about reducing their visibility as much as possible, about intervening on a diplomatic and political level,” says Yves Bugmann, president of the Federation of the Swiss Watch Industry. “Counterfeiters want to benefit from the value that often world-famous watch brands have created, and people want to access a certain social prestige that counterfeits present. But while some of them we just can’t influence, we find quite a lot do respond to a good argument.”
The problem is, perhaps, that no one of these arguments is a killer. Those countering the counterfeiters speak, for example, of the risk of buyers exposing themselves to malware, or to having their credit card details stolen—this does happen but the sophistication of the online marketplace, and the guarantees that underpin it, make this increasingly unlikely.
They speak too of the poor quality of counterfeit watches: the cheap metals, the likelihood of them lasting not long at all, their inability to fool anyone that they’re the genuine article. But that was then. We’re now in the era of the so-called “super- fake”, even of the ultra-fake. The counterfeiters’ embracing of the latest manufacturing technologies, from CNC machines to 3D printers, means the top-notch counterfeit today is all but indistinguishable from the real thing, at least to the naked eye of a non-expert. Knowledge accumulated over time means the fakers have only got better, and faster, at what they do. That’s concerning when, it’s been argued, the less distinguishable a fake watch becomes from the original, the more consumers become unwilling to pay the premium for the real thing.
Pre-owned watch dealer Watchfinder & Co noted in a 2023 report that five years ago 80 per cent of counterfeit watches sent into its stores were easily identified as fake, with 20 per cent needing closer inspection. Now those figures have been reversed. Of course, this is an aesthetic judgment, a question perhaps of less-than-perfect finishing; the counterfeit may still be well-made and contain a dependable movement, but it will lack the technology—in terms of materials and movement—of the genuine article. Some fakes can only be spotted in being handled—the hand-setting is off, or in daylight the colour isn’t quite right—which is no good to the online buyer.
“The fact is though that the counterfeiters’ emphasis is on the look of the watch because that’s all the guy who buys a counterfeit really cares about,” explains Fabrice Gueroux, author of Real & Fake Watches and an independent authenticator for many high-rolling collectors. “Yes, you can sometimes close your eyes and hold a counterfeit in your hands and there’s something that doesn’t feel right about it, but you need deep knowledge of the genuine watch for that and, of course, that’s what most people don’t have. With enough time even the best fake shows itself, and the best ones have put in the extra time on the paintwork, the fonts, the bracelet. But even I’m surprised by just how good a counterfeit can now be”.
That, he explains, is down to two factors. On the one hand, Gueroux laments, “the quality of some Swiss watches is not as high as is always claimed—so the borderline difference in quality between counterfeit and genuine watch can make spotting those counterfeits the hardest. With some brands [typically those seeking an especially high margin] the quality of the counterfeits is actually better...”
On the other hand, counterfeiters—and he says there are five mega-factories in China that collectively dominate counterfeiting, and which are known to make many millions of fake watches every year—used to have little competition and few, closely protected distribution channels. Now they have lots of competition and the internet has blown the market wide open, necessarily pushing quality up.
“Sure, many people buy a counterfeit because they just want the same look at the best quality for the cheapest price,” says Gueroux, “and they know that the real thing would cost, say, USD20,000. But then that person sells that watch on as ‘genuine’ and prices it accordingly to be convincing. And so on, such that there are so many good counterfeits [passing as genuine] on the market now.”
As for those Swiss makers still at the top of their games, they’re left facing off their counterfeiters, locked in an unending arms race of serial numbers, hallmarks, engravings and holograms—and, eventually, their inevitable copies too. “[And while] there are a lot of technical anti-counterfeiting and traceability measures now being used and developed,” notes Bugmann, “ultimately they’re of no use if the consumer deliberately wants to buy a fake”.
It does make the Swiss industry rightly worried about buyers being duped with, say, a dodgy IWC or Hublot though. And the most well- heeled and well-connected buyer can fall foul: the Brazilian footballer Neymar, rapper Little Baby and musician John Mayer have all bought watches they only later found out were counterfeit, leading to legal action in some cases.
Even brands and expert valuers can be conned: the most expensive Omega ever sold at auction, a supposed 1957 Speedmaster sold for USD3.4 million by Philips to Omega in 2021, turned out to be a so-called “Frankenwatch”, put together using parts from various vintage watches. Embarrassment perhaps prevents other stories of being duped from circulating; or, perhaps, people are just not duped in this way all that often.
Watchfinder & Co suggests that one in five watch buyers have been victims of purchasing a fake watch, the kind of figures, no doubt, that incentivised Rolex to take ownership of the problem by launching its own certified pre-owned programme in 2022. Of course, many other buyers—the small majority, according to one study—know full well that they are buying a fake watch. After all, the vast majority of fakes—Rolexes with quartz movements and the like—are still obviously so.
The counter-counterfeiters even make the appeal to guilt. There’s the rather tired line about morally minor crimes—as they may be perceived—being used to fund major ones, the likes of human or drug trafficking, though this is more a bogeyman argument than one that’s well-evidenced. The Federation of the Swiss Watch Industry speaks of counterfeiting’s negative impact on employment and revenue—to the tune of EUR1.9 billion annually—across the legitimate industry.
But the vast majority of people buying a fake would not buy the real thing were the counterfeit not available—they couldn’t afford it, yet still crave the status power that in part makes the genuine brands so appealing. This is especially the case in rapidly developing economies where peer comparison pressures are more stark. Indeed, the first in-depth studies of why sales of counterfeits are growing—led by Dr Xuemei Bian, professor of marketing at Northumbria University, UK—suggest that the motivation for buying a fake is far more sophisticated, and twisted, than the simple fact that of its relative affordability.
“One clear driver in purchasing [counterfeit watches] is the thrill of the hunt,” she argues. “There’s a fun factor in finding the best counterfeit for the right price. There’s a sense now of people who buy counterfeits belonging to a kind of ‘secret society’, one that’s curious about the original items and the counterfeits alike, especially in relation to their quality. There’s a transfer of the interest they would have had in the original article to the counterfeit. It’s a gateway to enjoying Rolex and other brands”.
In other words, Dr Bian’s research reveals, there is a growing culture of counterfeit buyers who buy them out of admiration for the artistry inherent in the fakery, as one might take a pleasure in just how convincing a fake Renoir is relative to the original. What’s more surprising, Dr Bian adds, is the incorrect assumption that counterfeit watches are only bought by those who can’t afford genuine ones.
“We found that even affluent people who can buy the real article buy counterfeits,” she says. “In part that’s because other people are less likely to question whether their watch is real or fake. They look the part. In part because they just see mixing up their watches—real and fake—as fun, or a bit naughty.”
So what of the ethical question? Don’t people just think buying a counterfeit watch is wrong? The Fondation de la Haute Horlogerie’s anti-counterfeiting campaign of a few years ago was based around the statement “Fake Watches are for Fake People”. But, Dr Bian argues, this highlights a disconnect between what a prestige watchmaker may think of as wrong, and what a consumer might.
Take, for instance, arguably the watch industry’s strongest case against counterfeits: the plain and simple one that it’s an infringement of their intellectual property, the investment the real makers have put into building the brand value that makes counterfeiting their wares worth it in the first place. This is not necessarily regarding design per se—this typically needs to be protected under patent, and when patents expire watch brands are free to copy one another’s designs, and maybe it doesn’t help their cause that they have done so most liberally—so much as of names, logos and other trademarked elements. A replica or ‘homage’ that’s a precise copy all except the branding isn’t a counterfeit— ethically maybe it is, but not usually in law.
“Of course a lot of people know what they’re buying even if the ad calls the counterfeit a ‘replica’ or some such kind of code. But what we’re dealing with here is theft of intellectual property, of the ‘Swiss-made’ label, of the maker’s reputation,” says Bugmann. “This can be frustrating for the industry especially given that, for the EUR300 you might spend on a fake, you could actually buy a good Swiss watch—maybe not one from a top luxury brand but from what’s still a prestige manufacturer.”
An affront to these intellectual property rights really can be detrimental to the top brands’ reputations too. If counterfeiters reduce the branded products’ exclusivity, people who could afford the real things are less inclined to buy them: if there are fake Rolexes everywhere, the appeal of the genuine article is limited, in part lest it too be considered a fake. Research by Moty Amar, professor of marketing at Ono Academic School, suggests that the moral disgust—to overstate it somewhat—felt towards a counterfeit not only negatively affects it use, but also attitudes towards the genuine item that, as it were, looks like the counterfeit.
“A copy of one of our watches—all copied except putting ‘Bell & Ross’ on it—is a counterfeit,” states Bruno Belamich, the brand’s co-founder, in no uncertain terms, “and that is an infringement of intellectual property rights. Counterfeit watches are not authentic products but imitations designed to copy the look and feel of the brand-name watch. It’s the desirability of the brand [that we have created] that’s ‘the cause’ of the desire to buy counterfeits.”
Unfortunately, further psychological studies have suggested that while the perceived risk can influence the rationalisation of why people buy counterfeits, ethical concerns—the likes of "what impact might I have on Cartier’s bottom line?"—don’t typically register at all. Yes, many strategies are used to dodge ethical consideration. Some see buying counterfeits as just making perfect consumer sense— they’re entertaining, cheap, almost disposable; others deny responsibility—"I’m merely the smallest cog in a long chain of events over which I have no influence"; while others argue that the market for counterfeits is beneficial to the brands copied. It’s a way of paying them a back-handed compliment.
Others, remarkably, even see their decision to buy a counterfeit as a form of retaliatory behaviour—a way of hitting back at brands they see as acting in a socially irresponsible way through their ‘unreasonably high’ pricing. But, whichever way you cut it, the idea that buying a counterfeit watch is in some sense wrong barely even figures, especially when it comes to dry legalistic matters of IP.
Besides, that’s only relevant to modern watches anyway. The whole world of fake watches is leaning towards ever greater complexity given the growing interest in vintage watches in recent years. Frankenwatches are said to now account for a fifth of all vintage watches sold in the US. Over the course of a watch’s lifetime it’s possible that the case will have been over-polished or the dial reconditioned; indeed, send a watch back to its maker for servicing and, until this vintage market won recognition, it was standard practice to make the watch look as new again as possible. But is a vintage watch with undisclosed reconditioned parts—perhaps reconditioned long before the current owner took possession—a counterfeit? Is, similarly, a customised watch, or a “modification”, in some sense counterfeit? These questions are still being worked through.
“Put modern hands on a vintage Monaco and it’s not exactly a counterfeit, and yet it will have a very real impact on its value,” stresses Jonathan Scatchard, founder of specialist dealers Vintage Heuer. “But the problem is that the quartz crisis [of the 1970s and 80s] caused all sorts of anomalies when so many Swiss watch companies went bust and parts were distributed and used across the industry. Authentification services have advanced considerably in recent years. But the vintage watch market has also made the question of what is a counterfeit and what isn’t even more of a grey area.”
And, adds Fabrice Gueroux, assuming that we will continue to live in a consumer culture that keeps telling us to define our self-worth through our possessions, it’s only going to get greyer still.
“The manufacturer can’t win this battle,” he states. “You have reality and you have PR. You see the manufacturers spending a lot of money on anti-counterfeiting tech but it’s all BS. They can’t keep up. You know the only way to tackle watch counterfeiters? It’s for manufacturers to push up the quality of their products, and to keep pushing. We’re getting to the point where that’s the only way that the fake watch is going to look fake.”
Originally published in Esquire ME
I'm sure most of us were taught the "3Rs" when we were younger. To refresh your memory, it's Reduce, Reuse, Recycle (such a nerd, I know). With so many sustainable companies trying their best to be eco-friendly, or 'saving the world one step at a time,' they sometimes forget to get creative. Rarely do we have something innovative yet exciting, which brings me to Discarded Spirits Co.
Housed under the esteemed William Grant & Sons, the freshly launched spirits brand reimagines waste-products from the food and beverage industry by transforming them into alcohol. The result comes as three award-winning liquids; Discarded Sweet Cascara Vermouth, Discarded Banana Peel Rum, and Discarded Grape Skin Vodka.
"We live in an age where single use is increasingly untenable. What others have wasted we have welcomed and made the distinguishing feature in Discarded," says William Grant & Sons' Global Innovative Director Tom Stannard.
The great news for cocktail enthusiasts in Singapore is the brand will debut with a six-hands menu at sustainability-led bar Analogue Initiative. Accompanying dishes are designed by zero-waste restaurant SEM, all the way from Lisbon, while—we can't miss the most important part—cocktails are crafted by the bar's own stellar bartenders alongside Samuel Thornhill from experimental Melbourne bar BYRDI.
Ugly Tomatoes, Husk, Apricot & Mushroom respectively.
(DISCARDED SPIRITS CO.)
Let me give you a run-down on the cocktail menu. Inspired by the brand's philosophy of reusing creatively, Ugly Tomatoes is not as ugly as you think, promise. It uses Discarded Cascara Sweet Vermouth and home-made Distilled Tomato Honey, creating a sweet and savoury concoction.
Right onto the next is Discarded Grape Skin Vodka in Husk, featuring Victorian White Port, Wattyl Wine and Banana Nectar. Or if you're feeling experimental, try Apricot & Mushroom for a umami punch with Harcourt Apricot, fermented Mushroom Garum and Black Citric Koji.
If you're feeling peckish, accompanying dishes are designed in collaboration with zero-waste restaurant SEM, all the way from Lisbon.
The menu runs until 15 September at Analogue Initiative. Cocktails are priced from SGD26 and dishes from SGD9.
Since its inception in a riverside warehouse on Jiak Kim Street, Zouk has been the epicentre of Singapore’s nightlife. Founded by Lincoln Cheng, the 35,000-square foot club thrived in an ever-evolving industry. Its success can be attributed to key figures like general manager Benny Heng, marketing manager Tracy Phillips, and later Sofie Chandra.
Also instrumental to Zouk’s legacy was Wayne Lee, who oversaw music and entertainment. Today, Lee is the general manager of HighHouse and NOVA, two dining concepts under OUE Restaurants. On a cloudy afternoon, we talk with Lee at HighHouse.
ESQUIRE: How is HighHouse different from Zouk?
WAYNE LEE: There’s the dining element, which is quite a big thing and that extends to the rooftop when we open up in July. The whole venue is OUE Sky: there’s HighHouse and NOVA—two concepts in one venue. What I used to deal with back at Zouk was more music- based. Here, there are four pillars, which are music, food, beverage and art.
We are into our fifth month and our dining has been quite stable; most of our meal services are filled out nicely; the menu direction is quite clear. We’ve been quite successful at stabilising that.
A lot more can be done about pushing out house and techno music that we believe in and getting it out there. Which is if you look at our programming, we have a couple of international DJs coming in. They are aligned to the kind of sounds that we’re doing and we want to do more collaborations with local music collectives. Building the local scene is quite important.
Back at Jiak Kim Street, the art was a little more intense, right? Lincoln [Cheng, founder of Zouk] had all these wild pieces like Keith Haring’s “Healing Hand” but when the club moved to Clarke Quay, there were space constraints so art wasn’t the main focus. But at HighHouse, my bosses are quite keen to get some relevant pieces on the ample wall space.
ESQ: Are you art savvy?
WL: I go to art fairs, I visit museums overseas. I wouldn’t say that I’m an art connoisseur but I do enjoy the medium.
ESQ: So, what’s the idea behind NOVA?
WL: We were inspired by festivals, right? Not just music festivals but festivals in general. That was a big inspiration for the space. Coachella, for example, some of the stages themselves are built around large installations. Burning Man [culminates in setting fire to a giant effigy]. Which explains the [10-metre] star structure at NOVA. We commissioned this artist Jun Ong from Penang—we saw his work at ART SG about two years ago. He’s great at installations, basically lighting installations.
ESQ: We heard the opening of NOVA was delayed.
WL: We are reworking the interior design to make it more futuristic. We were done but felt that it didn’t really measure up to the branding yet. I feel that once NOVA opens up, everything will fall into place; there’d be more opportunities for activities like yoga, your fitness stuff.
ESQ: You had started at the magazine, Juice.
WL: Back then the [Juice] office was at Scotts Road and that was one of the reasons why I wanted to work there. I was freelancing for them. Being quite keen to continue working for Juice, I took up a full-time position after I graduated.
I was very into electronic music, which helped. I was studying journalism in Melbourne and their rave culture was quite strong and that inspired me. So, when I returned to Singapore and there was quite an interesting underground electronic music scene between 2001 and 2004. This was the period where the government was more lax on people using venues and the neighbours weren’t complaining so much about the noise. I’d write about the scene. The process was so old school that I’d take pictures with this crappy DSLR and develop the photos.
ESQ: You had to shoot as well?
WL: Yeah, I took photos and wrote the reviews when I first started. I had to develop the film at Lucky Plaza. I remember that I had to pick five photos out of the 26.
That was what got me into Juice, the love of electronic music. Not so much the clubbing and partying—those were a byproduct. Juice started to change at that point because we needed the ad revenue, right? We were a free magazine and we needed to attract more advertisers. So we moved into the fashion space but we were not fashion people. The one thing that we could tap on was that the rave culture was connected to streetwear. We brought that element in. Me and the team were inspired by Japanese men’s magazines like Popeye. We had to go to Kinokuniya and buy it along with i-D and Dazed and Confused. That was quite a good time.
ESQ: How did you get to work at Zouk?
WL: It’s really a combination of circumstances. Because I worked at Juice, I was in close contact with Zouk’s marketing team and Lincoln as well. When they opened up a head of entertainment role, sort of a music director gig, in 2011, I was the first person they thought of and they approached me for it. I had been nine years in music publishing at the time, so I thought, since I’m already doing the theory portion of it, I might as well do the practical. That’s how I got to work for Zouk.
ESQ: What’s an average day for you at HighHouse?
WL: The office starts early. And meetings take up a large part of my afternoon all the way to about dinnertime. Then, from dinnertime onwards, I try to be on the ground [at HighHouse] just to make sure service is in order; to make sure our guests are settling in nicely. On certain nights—obviously, we do some late-night programming on Wednesday, Friday or Saturdays—I try to stay late. Again, just to see how things are going. Letting my presence be felt, I guess [laughs].
ESQ: This goes beyond your typical nine-to-five. Are the hours something that you took to easily?
WL: I came on board with OUE Restaurants in 2022 so I spent a good year-and-a-half being in a regular office working regular office hours; I enjoyed it. So now I’m back to those long, weird hours, but I’m used to it, because back at Zouk, it was the same thing, right? Daytime, I’d handle the corporate stuff and at night, I’d handle the nightlife.
ESQ: But is it easier now or harder?
WL: Harder. Back at Zouk, in my 30s, it was easier. It was also different because that environment had more high energy. We had a club that hosted 1,500, 2,000 people at any one time. That was intense. But now at HighHouse, the product is quite focused so we don’t have to bring in so many different demographics. We have a certain target audience and the music direction is clearer. The total capacity at HighHouse is about 400.
ESQ: Is social media important to what you do?
WL: I think it’s super important now, man. We’re always talking about Gen-Zs relating to TikTok and stuff. I was in Shanghai two months ago and... You know 小红书 [“Little Red Book” in Mandarin]? It’s big over there. I signed up for an account because I wanted to look for vintage shops in Shanghai but suddenly, I’m fed with other content like techwear, cycling...
So, yeah. social media is important. Especially when you’re running a business establishment, right? But, it’s important that you’re tapping onto the right platform. 小红 书started out as a place where people came to discover places of interest to go to but now it’s the equivalent of Instagram in China.
ESQ: China is ahead when it comes to connectivity.
WL: I’m really impressed by Shanghai. Everything is online for them. Lose your phone in China and you’re screwed.
ESQ: Do you think Singapore can get to that stage?
WL: It’s tough because we are not a super-huge city. We won’t get to where China is but what we have right now isn’t bad. Hopefully, Singapore will get there one day.
ESQ: What was your childhood like?
WL: It was good. I was quite blessed. Parents are mostly supportive. My dad was an engineer and my mom was a school English teacher. My dad was always urging me to take up mathematics, which I hated. And then I screwed up my A-Levels so badly that he gave up. But they gave me a very comfortable childhood, a good environment to grow up in.
ESQ: Are they still on your back about your life choices?
WL: My dad passed last year but he was ok with where I am today. My mom has, well, a lot to say, you know, because I’m still single so there’s that. If it happens, it happens, right?
ESQ: How was the pandemic for you?
WL: I don’t know about you guys but it was the worst. I mean, minus the pay cuts [at Zouk and the deaths] I think it was a reset button for a lot of people that I knew and a lot of efforts were taken to sustain the business.
ESQ: The pivots.
WL: Yeah. Back then, we put 50 bikes in the main room at Zouk and converted it into a spin cycle class. Capital [a whisky bar and cigar room] was turned into a restaurant. We even worked with Lazada to convert Phuture into a live-streaming studio... that lasted for a good three or four months before they decided to do their own studio. So that was challenging but it was nice. There was a sort of team spirit going on during the pivots. And I also enjoyed some normal hours, ending at 10:30pm instead of 4am, so that was quite nice.
ESQ: Was it worrying? Because, at the time, nobody knew when they could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
WL: It was frustrating because the first year when we pivoted, we thought by December 2020 it should be over, right? Everyone believed that myth that this was like SARS and the pandemic would soon be over. But it didn’t get better and then it got worse with the [COVID] variants popping up. We had to downsize the team quite a bit. It was painful to do but it had to be done.
That gave us a new thought process in how we run the business. If you look at Zouk, you see it is trying to expand overseas to Vegas, to Japan, by working towards F&B projects combined with nightlife concepts like fine dining with ultra lounges. Since COVID, operating solely on nightlife has shown its risks, hence diversification.
ESQ: What kind of manager are you?
WL: I think... I genuinely think I operate with empathy. I’m not the sort who goes like, “it’s my way or the highway”. I try to give the team a lot of room to run and grow in... but then again I am very blessed that to have quite an experienced team, both for the front and back of the house. Occasionally there will come a time to bring down the hammer, so I’ll do it. But as much as I can, I will try not to. I usually tell everyone that we are all adults, right?
ESQ: You also get to wear a suit and tie at HighHouse.
WL: [looks at his short-sleeved shirt and jeans] Yeah, sorry to let you down. [laughs]
ESQ: You don’t dress like that at Zouk.
WL: Because we operate a dining space, so out of respect for Steven, my manager, who is already in a blazer, I try to be in a suit and tie. It was a huge change from the Zouk days. Now I’m dressed up so that people can take me more seriously. [laughs]
ESQ: Any pet peeves?
WL: Sometimes people are not willing to change. It takes a while, of course. But, in our industry, change is the only constant; we always have to adapt and flip. When you are working with an older generation of managers and workers, it takes a while for them to be flexible. It’s frustrating but you still need to be patient to explain to them and get them on the same course.
ESQ: What’s your biggest fear?
WL: My biggest fear? That’s a really good one. So far all my work in Singapore has touched on culture, right? My fear is Singapore becoming stagnant culturally instead of moving forward. I’m talking about soft culture and things like that. Generally, things have been getting better. Singapore has always been a nation that’s built on finance, manufacturing and stuff like that. And obviously, what we call soft culture is super sub, right? Our generation did well but there are still purveyors pushing the scene in music, art, design, and stuff like that, and of course, aided by the government. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t but I’m hoping the next generation can continue.
It has to be a generational effort. This generation sets the path and the next gen will come in and take it forward. Let’s talk about culture, right? Obviously, there are your Edison Chens, Shawn Yues, John Mayers, the Pharrells even. They have gone from being musicians to extend themselves into fashion, designing watches even. They have done their part. So the next generation has to take over. Tyler, the Creator, he’ll be the next wave, right? He’s going to be the next Pharrell.
Going back to your earlier question about what I’m afraid of is that: I know there are a lot of very good content creators on TikToks who are in their 20s. But can we name that many? Can we find another, for example, Tracy Phillips? I feel that it’s tough to find someone of that calibre. Maybe it’s because the scene is quite diluted as everybody is doing it so it’s hard to stand out.
ESQ: You struck me as someone who prefers to be behind the scenes.
WL: You’re right. I don’t go to events, I stay at the back of the room. Eleven years of the club scene and my social battery is at its lowest. But now with the OUE Sky project, HighHouse and NOVA, I do have to be at the forefront of things to help push the brand.
ESQ: Along with Lincoln and Tracy, your name pops up as one of the few architects of the way the club scene is.
WL: Thank you for saying that. I appreciate it. It’s nice that in the course of what I’ve done, at least, my efforts have amounted to something.
ESQ: What do you like to do in your free time?
WL: I used to skateboard when I was younger but I’ve stopped. I’m trying to get back to the board again. I [laughs] can’t do the ollies and stuff. Actually, I cleared one but these days, my risk appetite is a lot less. So I just cruise along East Coast Park. It’s that or running.
ESQ: Do you fear getting old?
WL: Definitely. I think it is on everyone’s mind but—and this is going to sound corny—it kind of pushes you to do more each day because you know time is limited.
ESQ: Was this a recent realisation?
WL: I’m 43 going 44 and I think when you hit your 40s, you tend to think a lot more about the time that’s left and how much more you can achieve. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m middle aged, but it is what it is so you have to make the best of it. [points to his tattoo] “Memento mori”. Remember that you’ll die so you’ll appreciate life. [laughs] This all sounds dark.
ESQ: What’s that one book you always go back to?
WL: One of my favourite authors is Paul Auster, who died recently...
ESQ: I love Auster’s metafiction.
WL: Power, right? He passed away a few days ago. Very sad. Lung cancer. [thinks for a while]. [Haruki] Murakami is another. I’d usually return to Kafka by the Shore.
ESQ: Was that an introduction to the rest of Murakami’s work?
WL: That would be Norwegian Wood. Another book would be JD Salinger, [The] Catcher in the Rye. These are the few books that I’d reread if I had the time.
ESQ: Do you have enough time to do so though?
WL: The funny thing is that if the book is on a Kindle, you don’t read it as much as when it was a paperback. But I still buy books on Kindle due to space constraints, right? And my concentration on a Kindle is so limited. Ten pages and I put the device down. When it comes to the tactility of it, paperbacks can’t be beat.
ESQ: I usually borrow from the library so the due date forces me to finish it.
WL: That’s amazing. And that brings me to this one habit that I feel all of us should adopt, and that is, before sleeping, instead of going through Instagram, we should read. It’s tempting to pick up the phone and scroll through our social media but I’m trying to return to flipping the pages in books.
This interview was edited for length and clarity.
Photography: Jaya Khidir
Art Direction: Joan Tai
Photography Assistants: Nowo Kasturi and Ng Kai Ming
A fountain pen is like a tie these days. It is not a necessity but an expression of taste—and a chance to snatch a little extra joy from the grip of everyday existence. Given the choice, would you rather scratch out a note with a cheap plastic ballpoint or glide a finely tuned 18k-gold nib over a sheet of paper? No contest.
This brings us to Montblanc. Founded in 1906 with the catchy name Simplizissiumus-Füllhalter, the company pioneered modern, easy-to-use fountain pens. And the Meisterstück—German for “masterpiece”—has been the pinnacle of its lineup since it was introduced in 1924. It’s the fountain pen elevated to an art form. Combining superior engineering and materials, the century-old Meisterstück takes the writing experience to another level by ensuring that the ink flows in an unbroken stream from reservoir to nib to paper without the slightest pressure from the user. It’s a simple pleasure but a profound one. And sometimes—more often than you might expect—that is precisely what you need.
Originally published on Esquire US
Yes, we are facing the consequences of our actions—global warming. The heat is becoming unbearable, making it daunting to venture outside our homes. Dressing appropriately in this climate poses a challenge; layering clothes would probably risk suffering from a heatstroke.
Walking in this heat has become increasingly frustrating, with perspiration soaking us within moments. Moreover, the intense sun makes it difficult to keep our eyes open. How can we stay fashionable in this weather?
If your clothes aren’t hitting the mark, you can always elevate your outfits with accessories. We understand that jewellery might not be the most practical choice, so we focused on a more functional accessory: sunglasses. Your peepers stay protected and sunglasses also add a stylish edge to your look.
Classy and minimal with a touch of edge, the Gentle Monster Loti 01 sunglasses exude an effortlessly cool vibe. These versatile sunglasses complement almost any look. They feature a cat-eye silhouette with a black acetate frame. The softly curved top and balanced lines of the bottom create a chic, lightweight design. The sunglasses also have voluminous temples with silver metal details and black lenses offering 99.9 per cent UV protection.
This pair takes the classic square silhouette to another level. Bold yet understated, they serve as the statement piece in your minimalist wardrobe. Their size and unique black and grey hue add a touch of sophistication to any outfit. Suitable for any weather, these sunglasses can withstand rain or shine—just remember to dry them immediately if they get wet.
Of course, this list has to include Oakley. As one of the most iconic eyewear brands, they are essential. If you're into Opium core fashion, the Silver Encoder Ellipse sunglasses are a must-have for your wardrobe. Innovative and forward-thinking, this pair boldly elevates style with its unique Encoder lens shape.
Equipped with Detachable anti-slip Unobtainium (no, really; someone at Oakley really likes Avatar) rubber nose pads and earsocks for a secure, no-slip grip, these sunglasses showcase Oakley's commitment to both style and functionality. Their PhysioMorphic Geometry design methodology ensures a close fit to the face, optimising coverage, offering a wider field of view and enhancing frame retention and impact protection.
What is Opium core without Rick Owens? The iconic brand blends dystopian themes with grunge, gothic punk, French culture, and rock avant-garde, making it essential for achieving the Opium core aesthetic. This pair of wraparound-style sunglasses features a nylon frame and black lenses, adding an alluring and mysterious vibe to your look. They also offer 100 per cent UVA/UVB protection, Category 3 rating, and integrated nose pads. While layering is a key element of this genre, it can be challenging in this hot weather. With the Black Ryder Sunglasses, it will help you exude the look effortlessly.
If you're into the office siren look, the Brown EQ100 sunglasses are the perfect accessory to complete your outfit, embodying the corporate core aesthetic. This rectangular, semi-rimless pair offers the best of both worlds with slightly tinted yellow lenses that can be worn indoors. They also feature an anti-glare and scratch-resistant coating, 100 per cent UVA/UVB protection, integrated nose pads, and graphic hardware at the temples.
For a more understated look, consider the Prada Silver Logo sunglasses. Featuring thin metal frames, these sunglasses offer greater versatility and complement any outfit colour. The gradient grey lenses, subtly etched with the Prada logo, provide a sophisticated touch. They offer 100% UVA/UVB protection and include adjustable rubber nose pads, making them a great option for those with a lower nose bridge.
Embrace the retro-futuristic style with these sunglasses from A Better Feeling. Featuring sharp angles, minimal decoration, and matte metallic tones, each pair is hand-manufactured from lightweight, functional materials such as stainless steel, titanium, and acetate. These sunglasses possess a sleek silver tone, polarised beige lenses, 100% UV protection, adjustable rubber nose pads, and an engraved logo at the temples.
"The Goggle" sunglasses are handcrafted from recycled stainless steel, inspired by the iconic eyewear of Tokyo's vibrant 1990s scene. Combining retro appeal with futuristic influences like Steampunk goggles, these sunglasses make you look like a character straight out of a science fiction movie, embodying the retro-futuristic look to its core.
While this pair may appear simple at first glance, a closer inspection reveals intricate spring details on the temples. If you appreciate subtle yet refined touches, this pair is perfect for you. Highlights include blue lenses and a "Gaultier" engraved bridge. Beyond its stylish appeal, it features a category 3 UVA and UVB filter with anti-glare treatment, ensuring both fashion and function.
The Santos de Cartier sunglasses feature a metal frame with a smooth and brushed golden finish, a rectangular shape, and green lenses. These aviators perfectly complement the vintage "grandpa" look you’re aiming for. Additionally, the iconic Santos screws, borrowed from the renowned watch of the same name, add a distinctive touch.
So, the next time someone asks, "Why is it so hot?" just tell them it's because they are standing next to you.
It’s funny how the roles reverse between child and parent as the years jostle along but that’s kind of how they are now between me and mine. Coming from a small village in Calcutta (now Kolkata), India, my mother immigrated to Great Britain in the 1970s in search of a better life. Till then, she had the back-breaking job of selling Hakka-Chinese food along Calcutta’s streets, a position she’d held since the age of six to support her family. Eventually came a golden ticket to relocate, and the SGD12 she’d saved up would kick start a new life. That, in the UK though, was spare change. Mummy would have to hustle much harder.
By the time I was born, my mum was juggling two gruelling jobs. During the day, she worked in a Chinese restaurant and come night she worked in a hospital. She’d sleep on the shop floor before it opened, and somehow still managed to meal prep for two kids before the night shift. To help, I became the model teenager any Asian immigrant could hope for: I got straight As at school, and spent all my spare time helping out at the restaurant—that’s a lot of prawn crackers packaged. We knew nothing of family recreation and I often wondered how my white friends had time to go to theme parks or the beach with their parents.
When I was at university, Mum and I experienced luxury for the first time. We had relatives in town and they booked a table at China Tang, a restaurant in Park Lane’s most famous hotel called The Dorchester. I remember that day so clearly: Mum pulled the labels off her most expensive (high street brand) clothes, we posed for photos in the lobby for what felt like forever and every bite of dim sum was savoured with a squeal. When the bill came our hearts jumped but we talked about that incredible experience for years to come and I vowed one day to take her back to that hotel myself.
My 20s were a blur. You know that time when you’re chasing promotions, are all consumed by first love and going to parties every night because your liver can perform magic tricks? I didn’t visit often while I found my way in the world as an adult. As my 30s entered I was living abroad and Mum visited me in a handful of cities. It was in Tokyo, though, that I noticed she couldn’t quite keep up. I’d walk ahead while she limped behind and climbing the stairs became a challenge. She was in her 70s, and I’d failed to really acknowledge her fragility, mostly because I was in denial. We easily label our parents old, but rarely do we see them as weak. Certainly not my busy-body single mother who can hold down multiple jobs, raise children, and eventually amass a small fortune in real estate. A health scare ensued and I realised I needed to dedicate much more quality time with my mum.
Now, I’d never before considered her to be a travel companion. We have very different tastes. I like outdoor adventure, and she prefers shopping malls; I like experimenting with local food, and she complains when the meals are not Asian, because "if there’s no rice, she’ll be hungry"; and of course, there’s the nagging, which is incessant, to say the least. Still, once a year, I plan an international adventure for us, and admittedly it’s always more fun than I anticipated. We recently journeyed to South Korea, but it’s the cruises we enjoy most because both of us can have our needs met. On a Virgin Voyage around Greece, I could have vegan while she did Korean barbecue, and we checked off multiple islands without the stress of public transit. This summer we’re sailing on a Norwegian Cruise Line to Iceland. It’s the best way for her to see the fjords and the Northern Lights from the comfort of her own balcony.
We’re dining quite fancy once a month too, and it’s about damn time. I see it as a small contribution to making up for a complete absence of indulgence in the first 70+ years of her life. This is someone who scoffed plates down between shifts, and never once took a self-care day. Now, I want her to slow down and enjoy life’s bounty—and of course, I’ll settle the bill. She can’t comprehend the marked-up price of rice in a nice restaurant, despite that being her main stipulation for dining out.
The average person in the world lives till they’re 73 years old (83 in Singapore), so it’s easy to do the math to figure out how many more Lunar celebrations or annual vacations you’ll possibly have with your parents. For most millennials, it isn’t that many at all. My mum turns 80 in 2024, and I know exactly how to mark the special occasion. We’re going to have dim sum at China Tang and she’s going to stay overnight in The Dorchester for the first time. It’s quite a splurge but I’ve been saving. Every year with her is precious and honestly, I wish I’d started doing this much earlier.
Known for its innovative speciality coffee capsule machine and global roaster collabs, MORNING teamed up with TANCHEN Studio, a local textile design house specialising in stylish home accessories. With the intent to put a pause on the rat race and appreciate life as it is, both brands have introduced coffee machines, tableware and dining objects intended for—to paraphrase Jim Hopper—"coffee and contemplation".
Leon Foo, co-founder of MORNING shares his enthusiasm for the collection: "TANCHEN Studio's commitment to thoughtful design perfectly complements our mission to elevate the coffee experience at home. The 'PressPause' collection offers a beautiful and functional way to slow down, savour the moment and enjoy a perfectly brewed cup of coffee."
A special lite edition of MORNING's flagship coffee capsule machine, makes its debut with this collaboration. In a compact-size, the Machine Lite model allows you to calibrate the temperature, pressure profiles and your preferred water-to-coffee ratio. It also offers five ready-to-brew recipes or MORNING's signature "bloom & brew" feature that uses "pre-infusion to maximise the extraction and flavour in each brew.
Evoking MORNING's intriguing coffee notes like chocolate, cherry, smoke, and melon, this collaboration introduces two exclusive colourways for the Machine Lite—maroon, a rich wine shade combined with a calming muted blue, and lilac, a pastel shade paired with sage green accordingly.
There are only 50 units of each colour-way available for the Singapore region, while there are other versions don't miss the chance to own this unique and exclusive Machine Lite.
Other accessories of TANCHEN Studio include the Barista Cloths and Kueh/Kueh Coasters. Inspired by the nostalgic childhood treat, the Kueh/Kueh Coasters are crafted in five pastel shades that evoke the flavours of rose, coconut, palm sugar, and pandan. These coasters showcase TANCHEN's signature R/R (Reversible/Ribbon) design.
Meanwhile, the Barista Cloths represent TANCHEN Studio's foray into printed designs. Currently it has interlocking colour combinations of Lime + Lilac and Blue + Red. Their patterns are inspired by the art of weaving, adding a vibrant touch to the coffee ritual.
The Affogato Set includes a Stainless Steel Bowl perfect for enjoying sweet treats and paired with a hand-beaded place mat inspired by TANCHEN Studio's Braided/Beaded designs. This MORNING-exclusive edition features natural wooden beads in a unique dual-toned style, reminiscent of Southeast Asian taxicab seat covers.
TANCHEN Studio, known for their MAZHA Stools, presents a Singapore-exclusive tribute to the traditional ⻢扎 (mǎ zhá) folding stools. This version features a custom butter shade, conjuring the richness of butter on scones, butter in kaya toast and kopi gu you (butter coffee). It's a statement piece for one's next coffee break.
(It's a bit of a missed opportunity that the natural wooden beads from the Affogato Set isn't used as the seat material. But what do we know? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
(MORNING x TANCHEN STUDIO)
Find this exclusive collection at MORNING's inaugural physical store at New Bahru (46 Kim Yam Road, 01-13, Singapore 239351) or online.
