Clubhouse for maids a space to call their own

From ‘Clubhouse for maids a good move, but charity leader’s remarks irksome’, 17 March 2014, Voices, Today

(Mannat Johal):…I am heartened to read about the clubhouse, which will provide facilities such as a computer lab and library, as well as various courses, for only S$4 a year. This will greatly benefit domestic helpers and make their experience working in Singapore a lot better. They will have something to look forward to each week, knowing that they can enhance their skills and spend time fruitfully at the clubhouse.

What irked me, though, was the statement by the President of the Foreign Domestic Worker Association for Social Support and Training (FAST). He said: “We want (the workers) to go to a place where they can be among themselves, where they will not be disturbing the owners of the building or residents of the area.”

This gives the impression that domestic helpers generally cause owners and residents annoyance by simply patronising places such as tourist attractions. No such problems are said to exist when Singaporeans and tourists patronise these areas. Are domestic helpers that different? Should they not be allowed to enjoy these areas as we do? Are they that much of a nuisance compared with tourists, who are possibly more unfamiliar with Singaporean culture and etiquette?

Also, why does FAST want domestic helpers to be among themselves? Singapore is a multiracial society where harmony between people of different races, religions and backgrounds is a significant feature.

In 2001, Sri Lankan maid Sanda Perumal, along with her employer Angie Monksfield were given the boot out of Singapore Cricket Club because having maids in the premises was against internal club policy. As recently as 2011, some condos were still banning maids from using swimming pools.  Having a clubhouse just for maids would seem like an apologetic gesture for years of discrimination bordering on colonialism, a place where FDWs may benefit from the enrichment activities that such centres can offer rather than doing wild stuff like turning a stretch of Orchard Road into a street party . The other unspoken purpose here is to keep foreign workers out of sight, out of trouble, though you can’t stop them from murdering their rich employers. It’s like how people are uncomfortable with having workers’ dorms just down the road, treating the living quarters of others like a concentration or leprosy camp. The next question then: What about having a club for workers from Little India? One which holds a masterclass on anger management perhaps? A place where they can bond over some Darjeeling tea instead of Tiger beer?

Ethnic enclaves form all over the world as part of natural urban progression, and some even serve as tourist attractions, classic examples being Chinatown, Little India and Kampong Glam. What FAST is concerned with here is gatherings of FDWs disrupting business, but one can think of some iconic commercial spaces that may have benefited instead from foreign workers milling about, never mind the occasional drunken brawl, sleaze or spontaneous mass dancing.

1) Lucky Plaza

Though initially viewed as an ‘image’ problem, Lucky Plaza remains till this day Orchard Road’s premier maid hangout, and some businesses have learned to adapt to capitalise on the loyal throngs, from fast food chains like Jollibee to IDD sellers and remittance. It’s also the first place I would think of if I have a sudden craving for Pinoy fare like sisig and pata.

2) Golden Mile Complex

Earning its title as ‘Little Thailand’, Golden Mile is renown as a foodie destination if you’re looking for authentic, homely cuisine. Some Thais refer to the Beach Road complex as their ‘second home’. Locals looking for some alternative entertainment to Bangkok barhopping can boogie all night long at places like ‘Pure Thai Disco’.

3) Peninsula Plaza

A lesser known enclave, this place is our very own ‘Little Myanmar’. Not all’s rosy in terms of local business though, with some lamenting that Peninsula has turned from a ‘classy mall’ into a ‘Myanmar market’. It has also become a collection centre for Cyclone Nargis donations and a place to congregate and discuss politics. In my youth, it was a place to get rare records and band merchandise. Yes, those were the days when it was cool to wear a cap with your favourite band’s logo on it. Backwards.

4) City Plaza and Joo Chiat

The newest enclave on the block, City Plaza is turning out to be ‘Little Indonesia’, and would have been a ghost town if not for maids flocking there on weekends. For obvious reasons, it attracts Bangladeshi workers too. Joo Chiat, with its string of bars and restaurants, is close to becoming ‘Little Vietnam’. Now you know where to go if you’re in the mood for pho or Ayam Penyet. Or some intimate Vietnamese hospitality, if you know what I mean.

So, with or without these club facilities, our FDWs already have a place to mingle (sometimes with other foreign nationalities) and be seen, even if it means moonlighting on the fly or simply fooling around. The fact that places like Lucky Plaza and Golden Mile have hardly changed at all means that the authorities are silently aware of their social (and economic) significance.  It is, however, unrealistic to expect migrant workers to integrate with Singaporeans on weekends, when they already spend almost their entire working lives dealing with us. In some situations, in fact, we’d rather they leave us the hell alone.

Let’s not forget the many other ‘enclaves’ and invisible boundaries that we draw around us every single day. Christians have their mega-churches, Muslims their mosques. Billionaires have their fancy clubs, golf courses, Iggy’s and Nassim Road. Women have Ladies’ Night and entire shopping mall levels dedicated to them. Hipsters have arty-farty cafes, expats Robertson Quay, and even seniors have ‘retirement villages’. What’s the big deal about a clubhouse for maids?

We’re a motley nation, not an orientation camp where everybody sits around the campfire singing ‘That’s What Friends Are For’, and by all means let FDWs have places to ‘call their own’ as long as they abide by our laws and don’t have mass orgies in public. A artificial enclosure like a clubhouse may be a place for maids to be ‘among themselves’, but without the flavours of home and the calming familiarity that Lucky Plaza brings, it’s unlikely to be a place to ‘belong’.

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Le Restaurant’s Buddha statue in the wrong place

From ‘Buddha statue in wrong place’, 5 Oct 2013, ST Life!

(Danny Cheong): I refer to the story Chinese Goes Chic (SundayLife!, Sept 29).

In Buddhism, devotees become vegetarian in order to refrain from killing livestock. It is improper and discourteous of Le Restaurant of Paradise Group to place a huge Buddha statue in its meateating outlet.

Even if it is a piece of art, it is certainly in the wrong place

Amita-Bar

Le Restaurant is the brainchild of former Entrepreneur of the Year Eldwin Chua, and has been described as a ‘bar featuring Nordic-style wooden latticed ceiling, sexy pink lighting, and a DJ spinning soulful house music’(Chinese goes chic, 29 Sept 2013, Sunday Lifestyle). It also serves ‘Asian tapas’, which sounds to me like swanky fusion dim sum with toothpicks, where you can pass off mantou as ‘sliders’. Not a place to celebrate Grandma’s 80th birthday I suppose.

A Buddha statue in Le Restaurant or plush ‘Asian bistros’ like Tao in New York seems ‘right’ for the concept, since the idea of Buddha and Buddhism has come to represent everything ‘hip’ and ‘mystical’ about the Orient, but wrong to those who revere the image as how one prostrates before the same statue at an altar. Other than sprucing up the place, a Buddha statue can even double up as a feng shui talisman for prosperity and luck. Westerners may find such themes appealing in a ‘Seven Years in Tibet’ kinda way but to me it’s just tacky decor, like a stuffed antelope in a BBQ diner, or a wax figure of Sly Stallone as Rambo in Planet Hollywood.

The liberal use of religious artifacts as a restaurant/bar/lounge theme isn’t new. The Buddha Bar was the pioneer of modern ‘buddhist chic’ back in 1996, with its own range of exotic new age CDs to bring the ‘neo-spiritual’ vibe of the establishment right into your living room.  Nevermind if the tracklisting contains titles like ‘Egyptian Disco’ or ‘Salaam‘, which makes you wonder if the French who came up with the idea thought Buddha resided in the ancient Pyramids or traversed vast Deserts on the back of a magical camel.

In 2010, Indonesian Buddhists in Jakarta protested against Buddha Bar for insulting their faith and tarnishing the ‘good name of Buddha’, not because of the meat they served, but that it came across as a debauched hangout for drunkard party-goers and prostitutes. Here, the Buddha Bar owners already decided in 2000 to change the ‘controversial’ name of their UE Square branch to ‘Siam Supperclub’ (Buddha at the Bar has gone off the Siam, 26 May 2000, ST), where not only can you gawk at Buddha statues but order a lychee martini called ‘Laughing Buddha’. If turning your restaurant/club into a temple alone isn’t New Age enough, why not name an alcoholic beverage after a deity too? Some practitioners believe the Buddha himself would turn a blind eye to the glamorous exploitation of his image. Not sure if you could pull off the same gimmick with Jesus on a crucifix; your menu would have to be restricted to wafers and red wine.

Cocktails aside, there’s even a meat broth named after Buddha, containing sharks’ fin, ham, abalone and scallop. An origin story behind this renown dish describes how monks would leap over temple walls just to have a whiff of this fragrant concoction. Why, it’s the famous ‘BUDDHA jumps over the wall’ of course, a delicacy that I’m sure some Buddhists do enjoy nonetheless without complaining that it’s not vegetarian. Not sure if Le Restaurant has its own version though. Maybe it’s called ‘Bouddha saute par-dessus le mur’ and comes in shot glasses with tiny umbrellas in it.

Sukki Singapora’s ‘albino Indian’ look

From ‘Burlesque babe’, 21 April 2013, article by Melissa Sim, Lifestyle, Sunday Times

For more than a year, burlesque dancer Sukki Singapora, 26, led a double life. By day, she worked in IT support – wearing formal skirts and fitted shirts – but once the work day was over, she cast off her office wear for corsets and sequined outfits. “It was very much a Clark Kent existence,” says Singaporeconnected, Britain-based Sukki, who quit her IT job with the British cycling Olympic team to become a full-time burlesque performer in April last year.

…“I was fortunate enough to be offered enough shows that I no longer needed a day job,” says the dancer, who uses a peroxide cream to create the look of an “albino Indian”

…What keeps her going, she says, are the letters she receives from Asian women and men, nearly 100 from Singapore alone. “Some want to learn how to do it. However, more often than not, they are too scared to try because of their strict backgrounds and feel they have no one to talk to except me,” she says.

So she set up The Singapore Burlesque Society, a Facebook group which has 64 members, to provide a “safe community” for those interested in burlesque in Singapore. She also started The Singapore Burlesque Club, a touring show which has a policy of hiring at least one Asian burlesque performer at every event.

…Denying that she chose her stage name because it was more exotic to be from Singapore than the UK, she says: “I picked it because it represents where I felt I was from. I still consider myself a citizen.”

Born to an Indian Singaporean father and a British mother, both doctors, Sukki Menon was a Geography major before achieving grand diva success. She became a British citizen when she was 18, and would give our very own drag queen Kumar a run for the money. Most Singaporeans, however, would rather play Angry Birds than see dancers dressed up as peacocks, this despite Moulin Rouge and the less successful Burlesque movies spurring the revival of a vintage stage show. ‘Showgirls’ probably gets more illegal downloads than both movies combined.

Sukki isn’t the first Asian sensation to seduce audiences with wild, sexy dancing. Malaya used to have her very own ‘Queen of Striptease’ in the 1950s, none other than the late, great Rose Chan. Referred to as a ‘stripper’ in those days, her shows were banned here by the police in view of its ‘improper nature’. She was also badass enough to wrestle with pythons. Today’s burlesque artistes settle for boas instead.

I suppose many Singaporeans have matured since then to accept burlesque dancing as a respectable profession, nude or no-nude, but it’s mostly viewed as a hobby to tone your abs or surprise your husband on Valentine’s Day (for $180 you can have 10 hourly lessons of Exotic Dance/Lap Dance). I’m not sure if albinos or Indians would take offence at Sukki’s use of whitening face cream. I’ve never seen an Indian albino in the flesh, but I doubt they look like Courtney Love as Sukki does. Going ‘Blackface’ for your company DnD with a Bollywood theme, however, is a terrible idea.

Crazy Horse, which bears similarities to burlesque though it boasts as the most ‘avant garde’ all of Paris cabarets, failed in Singapore after just 14 months.  Supporters were quick to denounce the country for being intolerant of such ‘raunchiness’. But it also offended housewives who thought it was ‘pornographic’, ‘derogatory to women’, and promoted all sorts of wrong values. A layman would find difficulty differentiating burlesque, cabaret and exotic dancing, though flashy costumes (and eventual lack of it), ample cleavage, flirtatiousness and feathers are all common elements. Some would call her a ‘high-class’ stripper, and in fact Sukki in her Facebook page has acknowledged her job as a ‘striptease artist’. Here’s a video of her jiggling out of traditional Indian dance costume into a slutty red bikini:

Burlesque dancers tend to give themselves names indistinguishable from adult movie stars or James Bond girls (think Pussy Galore).  Not all have glamorous monikers like Dita von Teese, which sounds like a villain from a 101 Dalmations cartoon. Here’s a quick test to see if you know your burlesque from your XXX stars.

1) Aurora Galore
2) Aurora Snow
3) Lexi Belle
4) Dottie Lux
5) Dirty Martini
6) Summer Haze
7)Lady Beau Peep
8)Vicious Delicious
9)Kalani Kokonuts
10)Calamity Chang
11) Kitten de Ville
12)Lily Labeau

*2, 3, 6 and 12 are porn actresses

Dancers also tend to argue that their art is a ‘celebration of feminity‘, yet  there is an internet magazine for ‘all things burlesque’ named BurlesqueBITCH.com. An organiser for international events like the All Asian Burlesque Spectacular calls itself THIRSTY Girl Productions.  Sukki herself acts in The PEEP SHOW, and performs at a La Bordello Boheme. It’s all in the name of good ol’ naughty fun, of course, but I doubt the folks at AWARE are amused. I’m sure the Esplanade can bend its ‘No Sleazy Uncles’ rule to slot in a Sukki show somewhere.

Incorporating Singapura in her stage name aside, she has also wowed audiences with what she calls The MERLION strut,  a homage to a ‘mythical beast’. There is also the “Sparkle for Singapore’, complete with ‘glistening Singapore orchids’. We should rope Sukki in for the next National Day Parade since we’ve done pole-dancing anyway, and pair her up with Kumar in a Battle of the Divas. With our ailing fertility problems, perhaps sexy burlesque is one way to sizzle up our bedrooms, and no one better to promote it than our Burlesque Ambassador and Superheroine, Sukki Singapora herself.

Liquid nitrogen cocktails not relevant anymore

From ‘Liquid nitrogen cocktails passe’, 21 Oct 2012, article by Melissa Kok, Sunday Lifestyle.

…In Singapore, liquid nitrogen cocktails – a popular novelty beverage two to three years ago – seem to be hard to find these days. SundayLife! contacted several leading bars and restaurants believed to have served cocktails prepared with liquid nitrogen but they said they had stopped serving such drinks a while ago, or had never served them.

The Tippling Club in Dempsey Hill used to serve cocktails that were chilled with liquid nitrogen instead of ice to keep flavours potent, such as their nitro-chilled dry martini, back in 2008. But its general manager Marcus Boyle, 30, says it stopped serving such cocktails about a year ago, long before the UK case happened because there was “basically no relevance” anymore.

…Mixologists use liquid nitrogen in small doses to keep cocktails chilled. Of course, there is also the novelty factor in serving a drink with swirls of white vapour wafting from the cocktail glass. Mr Mac Lee, 54, honorary president for the Association of Bartenders & Sommeliers Singapore, says bartenders here are not required to undergo formal training or be certified to serve drinks containing liquid nitrogen. In fact, he says many mixologists who incorporate the chemical in cocktails are self-taught or learn the art from fellow bartenders.

However, experienced bartenders say such cocktails are safe to drink, as long as the bartender is familiar with the chemical properties of liquid nitrogen, and knows how to prepare and serve it with care.

…It is unclear which government agency regulates the use of such chemicals in the preparation of food and beverage items. The National Environment Agency, which regulates food and beverage outlets, did not respond to SundayLife!’s queries by press time.

A spokesman for the Agri-Food and Veterinary Authority of Singapore, which oversees food safety, says nitrogen gas is a permitted food additive under the Food Regulations.

Heaven in a glass literally sends you to Heaven

The death-defying thrill that comes with consuming industrial refrigerants may lead to a comeback of the ‘nitro’ alcoholic beverage. Liquid nitrogen is the ‘fugu’ of alcoholic drinks, except that I would rather trust a certified chef who has trained for years dissecting poisoning fish than someone who claims to be a ‘molecular mixologist’ who may not even know offhand how many protons, neutrons and electrons the Nitrogen atom contains (I know it’s number 7 on the Periodic Table).  A ‘molecular mixologist’ sounds more accomplished than a ‘chemist’, though the closest the mixologist has probably come to conducting a proper science experiment is seeing litmus paper turn from blue to pink. He may not blow up a lab, but a novice may feed you something that will probably explode your intestines, like what almost happened to Gaby Scanlon. It would be the perfect way of assassinating someone important at a cocktail party.

Liquid nitrogen infused drinks is more spectacle than science, and I have to admit it looks pretty cool in a Sorcerer’s Apprentice sort of way. Who wouldn’t be tempted to sip from a glass that has chilly fumes swirling out of it? A smoky drink is mysterious, magical and alchemical all at the same time, and has been portrayed in fable and pop culture as Pandora’s elixir. If Man weren’t attracted to misty potions, Dr Jekyll wouldn’t have turned into Mr Hyde, witches would have nothing to brew, a ‘cauldron’ would just be a big ‘pot’ and Harry Potter would have been shortened to 3 movies instead of 7.

A life-changing aperitif

But can’t you achieve the same effect with dry ice, you say? Solid carbon dioxide has a sublimation point of -78.5 degrees Celsius, while liquid nitrogen ‘boils’ at -196 degrees, but I believe eating both can kill you anyway. Dry ice is probably cheaper, since you could get it for free whenever you buy ice-cream cakes from Swensens, and in fact some mixologists do use it for the same ‘misty’ effect. City Space’s resident ‘cocktail ARCHITECT’ uses dry ice in his ‘Bubble Tea’ concoction, which creates a ‘bubbling effect’ as well as keeping the cocktail chilled. (Side note: I’m quite a good sandwich ‘architect’ myself. I stack layers of food between bread without my ‘work’ collapsing). Not sure how safe this is, but you can get ‘burned’ as easily from biting cold as scorching heat. More ‘Bubble Lava’ than ‘Bubble Tea’, I think. The F1 in 2008 brought us TURBO SHOTS, which consists of ‘grenadine syrup, Midori, Baileys and vodka served with dry ice’. The only thing ‘turbo’ about this is how soon it’ll get you to the AnE if you gulp it down a bit too hastily.

Such an ‘experimental’ approach to the once humble profession of bartending gives new meaning to the term ‘cutting edge’ when you risk perforating your stomach. Bartenders no longer wipe glasses with the towel around their necks or discuss football with customers when they’re not preparing drinks, they’re toying with ‘flavour-enhancing’ inert gases and Frankenstein goo with fancy instruments modelled after those used in Dr Evil’s cryogenic laboratory. They’re taking the phrase ‘too cool for school’ rather too literally.

Soon they’ll be wearing labcoats instead of bowties, naming their bars after gas scientists like Robert Boyle (the Tippling club’s GM is called Marcus BOYLE. Coincidence?) or Fritz Haber, and instead of being the surrogate uncle that you can confide about marriage problems they’ve become as aloof as nuclear scientists at an alternative energy convention. If you’re the kind of mixologist who would rather play it safe but still wants loads of attention from the ‘It’ crowd, you can wow them by ‘garnishing’ your creations with expensive pretty jewels instead. Drinking the Jewel of Pangaea does seem pretty shameless of you, but at least you wouldn’t end up like the bad robot from Terminator 2 below:

Nothing like liquid nitrogen to break the ice

There haven’t been reports of people here having their guts ripped apart by dangerous cocktails so far, though bartenders playing fast and loose with chemicals and describing themselves as ‘architects’, ‘mixologists’ or  ‘consultants’ needs to be looked into. How about a ‘cocktail pharmacologist/chemist’ for a change, you know, someone who actually knows what is safe enough to entertain your taste buds but not toxic enough to send you to hospital?  What’s wrong with being a good ol’ fashioned blue-collar bartender like Ted Danson’s Sam from Cheers, a man who handles beer mugs and not test tubes and liquid nitrogen generators that look like high-end ice-kacang machines? A man who’s committed to serving you an actual drink and not an entry for a primary school science competition?

Cheers to non-smoky beer

Tippling Club’s Nitro Martini has been described as a ‘nice’ punch in the face. If I wanted that feeling I’d run into a wall without having to pay a single cent. A variation of the Tiger Crystal beer cocktail ‘cooked’ with liquid nitrogen is supposed to deliver a ‘mega brain freeze’. Purveyors relish such frosty drinks as BDSM fans enjoy having hot wax dripped down their nether regions. I would never trust anything that is described as ‘cooked’ in quotation marks. It’s like drinking ‘chlorinated’ water, or driving a ‘safe’ car. Unless you’re into that sort of thing, like the JACKASS crew.  Perhaps this little medical nugget will turn people off liquid nitrogen for good: It’s often used for the removal of GENITAL WARTS. So before your dip your nose in a ‘little bit of heaven’, think of the crackling fizz that comes with the application of the same ingredient to mushroom-like growths around someone’s anus.

If you want the kick of a brain freeze without losing a vital organ, have a Mr Slurpee instead.

F1 extension delights almost everyone

From ‘News of F1 extension delights all but bay area businesses’, 23 Sept 2012, article by May Chen, ST online

Almost every one, from fans to hotels to Formula One drivers, welcomed the extension of the Singapore Grand Prix on Saturday with open arms – every one except several retailers in the Marina Bay area.

Their main beef: The disruption to business when the area goes into lockdown for the three-day extravaganza.

“The race brings a buzz to town, but not everybody is impressed. A lot of people try to stay away and it affects our business, and a lot of other people’s businesses,” said Indochine chief executive Michael Ma yesterday, a refrain echoed by Allan Chia, who operates a pushcart in Suntec City selling mobile phone accessories. “People avoid Suntec City altogether because of the road closures,” said the 35-year-old.

Well, not just the bay side retailers. While the hotels and banks may be popping the champagne with all the money flowing in, the latter flying in VIPs to hobnob with drivers and the rich and famous at the Paddock Club, there have been opposing voices to the F1 Night Race right from the get-go. So it may be rather presumptuous to announce how everyone will embrace another 5 years of night racing, when some groups were already up in arms over the inaugural one in 2008. It’s also worth noting that we didn’t get off to an auspicious start either, with Fernando Alonso winning the first Night race because a Renault teammate deliberately crashed his car to give him an advantage (I don’t know enough about racing to see how that helps). Nobody ever mentions ‘Crashgate’ anymore since, though we had a multi-religious prayer this year to make sure such ‘accidents’ don’t happen. It’s also taboo to even discuss the Ferrari accident near race period, and it’s somewhat ironic that we label supercar drivers here a menace to our roads on one hand, yet embrace the F1 with gusto on the other.

F1 claims to be making conscious ‘green’ efforts to improve on their fuel efficiency and emissions, like planting trees in Mexico or using biofuels, though such actions may register nary a blip on the carbon ECG, especially if they neutralise each other when you need to starve viable forest land to make way for fuel crops. Our Government continues to enthuse over how this event is putting our tiny country on the map, high on the ‘buzz’ that the addictive cocktail of fast cars and posh celebrity delivers, but conveniently forgetting in their delirium that we once made a PLEDGE to reduce our greenhouse gas emissions by 16% by 2020. Oops.

In 2007, some forum writers spurned the energy-guzzling and glamour posing that comes with each F1, that hosting this event sends conflicting messages to the rest of the world about our stand on energy conservation and combating climate change. One moment we’re talking about supertrees and the next thing you know we’re pounding our streets with oil-guzzling supercars. According to a senior ST correspondent, a single race produces up to 10 tonnes of carbon dioxide, this excluding that spewed from freighting cars and equipment into and out of the country. But it’s not so much the noise, the exhaust or the heat that brands every night race an eco-nightmare; It’s the damned lighting.

According to one website dedicated to the F1 Night Race, the lighting statistics are as follows:

Total Power   3,180,000 watt
Track Projectors  1, 485, 2,000 watt each
Power Generators  12 pairs (with back-up)
Aluminium Truss 6,282m
Steel Pylons   240
Power Cables  108, 423m

At 3000 LUX levels, the lighting is FOUR TIMES the lights at sports stadiums. The gorgeous illuminated skyline that we’re so proud of, the one that helicopter cameras glide across every year like a director lingering over naked thighs in a porno film, is the result of a dozen generators belching 3 megawatts of electricity, the same amount that could light up a few Malaysia Cup final matches at the National Stadium, or serve a few underprivileged households. Will Singapore compromise when we face an oil crisis within the next 5 years, or perhaps consider switching to a less wasteful DAY race instead? But you can’t argue about electricity expenditure without sounding like a spoilsport who doesn’t appreciate the exhilaration of night racing. Singapore NEEDS the F1, so they say. But you don’t need bright lights and dozens of expensive parties and concerts to make an icon out of Marina Bay. Sometimes, all you need is an amateur porn star and a camera.

No it’s not about our national identity, the Marina glitter, the F1 fans or the small pushcart businesses in Suntec City. It’s about the after-race Dom Perignons, the $26,600 per table at Amber Lounge,  the $6850 Paddock Club pass.  Few people who could spend thousands on a ticket are really interested in the technicalities of the sport, rather using it as a backdrop for business or high-society pleasure. Money is all there is to it, and while we rush headlong into this glitzy fantasy, our heads reverberating with the erotic growl of the engine and our hearts pumping with adrenaline, our most influential supporters of the race continue to sleepwalk through our energy conservation efforts, dump flyers at us telling us how to save electricity (but not the trees obviously) while raising tariffs, yet preparing for the next race bash by hugging for dear life onto whatever surplus oil barrels we have.

Orchard streetwalkers soliciting expats

From ‘Streetwalkers: Stores vigilant’, 16 Sept 2012, article by Nathaniel Fetalvero and Nicholas Yeam, and ‘Streetwalkers getting more blatant at Orchard Road’, 10 Sept 2012, TNP

Foreign women touting sex services are no longer just operating around Orchard Towers. They are now covering areas as far as Far East Shopping Mall. The minute they spot a potential customer, usually a male tourist, they would approach them with offers of ‘massage’. Said one expat: “It’s like running a gauntlet. If you make the mistake of looking at them, they’ll be all over you in seconds.”

…ON WEDNESDAY, two days after The New Paper reported on foreign women soliciting expatriates on Orchard Road, it appears that not much has changed. At the stretch between Orchard Parade Hotel and Orchard Towers, we spotted one or two women standing around, but after an hour, more emerged, loitering on the sidewalks.

Businesses, like Modesto’s Singapore, said the women do not pose a problem. A spokesman for Modesto’s Singapore told TNP that “if some ladies enter and ask for a table, they will be seated and served because we cannot judge who they are. “However, if they are seen to be then going to single men and hassling them, they will be immediately asked to leave our restaurant.”

Orchard Towers, also known to foreigners as the ‘Four Floors of Whores’, wasn’t always the dark seedy underbelly of our country’s premier shopping district. In 1974, it was hyped as a ‘new-idea in office home development’, boasting a state-of-the-art theatrette on the 3rd floor, as well as ‘medical, scientific or technical’ offices on the 4th and 5th floors of the front block facing Orchard Road. It was also home to ‘fine art’ exhibitions, and its Premier Theatre screened selections of the ASEAN film festival in 1980. From Gallery of Fine Arts to Bongo Bar and Top Ten Disco; what the hell happened that turned a centre for art appreciation into the girly-bar hotbed of sleaze and sex that we know today?

In April 1980, Johnny Teo (a name as pimp as it can get) was fined $3000 for managing a brothel from his Orchard Towers apartment, housing mostly Thai prostitutes. Things started to heat up once Premier cinema shut down operations in 1983, with Top Ten Disco taking over after a brief conversion of the auditorium to a ‘live show theatre’.  By 1988, Orchard Towers was an entertainment hub and yuppie den with bars, pubs and ‘social escort agencies’ making their foray into the premises. Some recognisable names in the entertainment business also cut their teeth in Orchard Towers, including singers Wendi Koh (Celebrities bar), Cantopop sensation William Scorpion (Utopia) and DJ Brian Richmond (Peyton Place). Before there were ‘streetwalkers’, pubs like Utopia had ‘public relations officers’ to provide ‘companionship’ and ‘conversation’. By then it would also have its fair share of transvestites and transsexuals, who found acceptance and metaphorical ‘beginnings’ within the building’s four walls, only to be rounded up by the police, who were also on a rampage against homosexuals.

By 1991, Orchard Towers began to be ‘plagued’ by fly-by-night foreign hookers, with the police cracking down on the trade in Dec the same year (Orchard Towers cleared of fly-by-night prostitutes, 28 Dec 1991, ST). In 1992, Singapore’s ‘largest KTV’ opened at the basement of the building (Orchard KTV). In 2002, Orchard Towers was the scene of a high-profile murder, after bodies were found in an abandoned vehicle in the car park. 4 years later, Top 10 rebranded itself as Top 5, its evolution over the years in sync with the gradual moral decline of the entire complex. Today the disco houses private rooms named ‘Desire, Passion, Seduction, Temptation, Obsession’, named after ‘ladies’ emotions, which also describes perfectly the naughty shebang happening on the streets outside. Cross-dresser comedian Kumar also performs there at 3 Monkeys bar these days, and being risque in Orchard Towers is like baring it all in a nude colony.

Sex, rock n roll, transgender performers, has-been celebrities, even murder. This building has seen it all, and should be curated for being a seething well of all imaginable contradictions, an antithesis to the safe, sterile Singapore brand. If the National Stadium is the Grand Dame, this place is the Wretched Slut. Orchard Towers remains the ‘original’ sex destination for rich foreigners on exotic dirty pilgrimages, despite the vice and sleaze leapfrogging over to the other end of Orchard Road at Orchard Plaza and Concorde Hotel shopping centre. Unlike the sleek, squeaky clean, ultramodern behemoths like Ion and 313, the one and only ‘Four Floors’ remains unabashed about its sordid associations and services, one of the last buildings in town with a hint of CHARACTER and history. A stubborn stain on the gleaming tourist showcase that is Orchard Road, it still has many stories to tell, even if they’re not ones you really want your children to hear.

Jewel of Pangaea most expensive cocktail in Asia

From ‘Local club unveils Asia’s most expensive drink’, 15 Sept 2012, article by Nicholas Yeo, Today online.

Local club Pangaea and luxury jeweller Mouawad unveiled Asia’s most expensive cocktail at an exclusive showcase at Marina Bay Sands on Friday evening. The drink, dubbed “The Jewel of Pangaea“, costs S$32,000 a glass, and is targeted at a rarefied clientele that enjoys the art of cocktail mixing.

The Jewel of Pangaea is mixed by award-winning master mixologist Mr Ethan Leslie Leong, who has over 18 years of experience in the industry and is reknown for his work as director of bar operations at the Maison Ikkoku cocktail bar on Kandahar Street. The cocktail is infused with gold-flecked Hennessey brandy, a hickory smoke-infused sugar cube, 1985 vintage Krug champagne and garnished with a Mouawad Triple X 1-carat diamond.

…At the event, Leong prepared the drink for the first time and presented it to Ms Sabrina Ault, owner and creative director of Pangaea. She said, “The Jewel of Pangaea is not just a drink, it’s an experience – the spirit of Pangaea in a glass.”

The ‘spirit’ of MBS elite club Pangaea is of course the appreciation of the finer things in life in the most obscenely exorbitant manner possible. Opened in 2010, this exclusive lounge is not ashamed to admit their preference for ‘the well-travelled and discerning set, celebrities, CREATIVE types, models and, of course, the rich and famous’ as their clientele. In their mission statement, not only do they aim to be the most ‘thrilling’ ultra lounge in the world, they also cater to those who only ask for the very best, meaning if you ‘drive a Ferrari’ or ‘fly a private jet’. For a brand that makes reference to a prehistoric super-continent, the appeal of Pangaea is anything but Stone Age, though someone like me who wouldn’t meet their criteria of an ideal customer  may be barred from entering for resembling too closely a Flintstone. I suspect Pangaea is not so much about the element of ‘jetsetting’ than it describing the age of some of the stuff they put into cocktails to justify the ridiculous prices.

One could make any beverage cost 30k by ‘garnishing’ it with expensive jewellery, even if precious stones add no flavour whatsoever to a cocktail. You could surprise your spouse on your wedding anniversary with a diamond ring tucked within the mint leaves of her Mojito and declare that it was the most expensive drink on the menu, provided she doesn’t choke on it first.  Gold flakes used to be something people adorn their clothes , hair or love letters. If you’re a Pangaea regular however, you eat precious metal just for the sake of eating it, not that it’s tasty or nutritious, but because you could afford it. I bet Pangaea’s toilet rolls are lined with cashmere from albino mountain goats and you wash your hands or flush with ‘sparkling’ water imported from the Alps. Even the complimentary nuts may be seasoned with the finest Baltic Sea Salt money can buy, and perhaps served in an oyster shell complete with mother-of-pearl. What’s missing is just the stack of dollar bills for you to light your vintage cigars with.

A ‘mixologist’ is a fancy term for an ‘accomplished bartender’, where you create your own award-winning drinks instead of sticking to a bar menu. It’s like how an ‘illusionist’ is more celebrated than a parlour-trick magician. Take away the accessories from the Jewel and you’re left with a sweetened champagne-brandy mix, nevermind that something as simple as a flaming sugar cube is described as if it were Peking duck. Of course, you can’t leave any simple ingredient unnamed without some history and scarcity behind it. A Mint leaf has to be ‘Louisville grown’, and your ice must be sourced from a 10,000 year old glacier (FACT!). Your blackcurrants must come from the FOREST, your honey from WILDFLOWERS, and somewhere in that ‘infusion’ must be an extract of some BARK. No wonder you have names like Pangaea; the ingredients are stuff our foraging cavemen ancestors used to pick too.

‘Jewel’ also appears to be inspired by the 35,000-pound  ‘Flawless’ drink served at uber-rich club Movida in 2007, which contains gold leaf, Cristal Rose champagne, Louis XII cognac and a white diamond ring at the bottom. No it’s not an ‘experience’ in a glass, it’s a rich-man’s aquarium in a glass. If I wanted a diamond ring I’ll go to a jewellery shop, rather than via the round-about way of getting my hands on it only after poisoning my liver with spirits named after dead French emperors and swallowing gold at a snobs’ party where you can’t tell if someone has a genuine ‘stiff upper lip’ or one injected with collagen. But then again, time is what rich people have in spades anyway.

Jewellery-drinks are stupefyingly crass and an insult to beverage artisans who believe that the ‘finest ingredients’ don’t necessarily have to come from halfway around the world, or from the ground remains of some famous rapper’s gold dentures. The Jewel makes the Singapore Sling look like raspberry flavoured throat gargle in comparison, and although the price of it shouts ‘high-end’, it’s hard not to label this concoction as flashy and shallow, like a Playboy mansion party or a gaudy Las Vegas casino. You don’t need to be a mixologist to create something vulgar (but less costly) right in your kitchen: Get some brandy and champagne leftover from last year’s Xmas hamper, sprinkle in gula melaka, young coconut juice (YOUNG, mind you) and finish off by dropping your mother’s engagement ring into the bottom. Instant atas-ness achieved. Incidentally, there’s a luxury cocktail called ‘The Red Ruby’, which contains pomegranate liqueur, cognac, vodka, champagne and, you guessed it, an ACTUAL RUBY. I prefer mine with coconut milk, sago and chestnuts wrapped in gelatin.

CHIJ girls please stand up

From ‘Poster with CHIJ logo ‘insulting’: school chairperson’, 18 Jan 2012, article by Jeanette Tan, sg.yahoo news.

A poster featuring a naughty message has scandalised some people from the Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus (CHIJ) schools in Singapore. The large circular poster, which depicted the school’s crest at its centre, included a caption in bold capitals that read: “In need of a one night stand: CHIJ girls please stand up!”

…Its (CHIJ board of management) chairperson, Vivienne Lim, told the paper that the unauthorised use of the school’s logo in the poster was “highly inappropriate and demeaning”, adding that it was “insulting” for “thousands of CHIJ alumni and current CHIJ students, some of whom are as young as six years old.”

The poster is believed to have been created as a decorative part of a school-themed party held at Filter Members Club, a nightspot located near Mohamed Sultan Road, last Saturday, alongside a similar one featuring the Anglo-Chinese School logo carrying the caption: “In need of a sugar daddy: Where my AC boys at?”

…“I think it’s highly offensive and ridiculous,” said Kimberly Gwee, 17, who graduated from CHIJ Toa Payoh (Secondary) a year ago. She felt that the poster slandered the names of both CHIJ and ACS. “Each school (CHIJ and ACS) already has bad publicity from rumours that circulate from generation to generation, but this is a whole new level of offence… to slander CHIJ’s name with sexual slurs is really too much.”

20-year-old Isabel Francis, another CHIJ alumnus, agreed, saying that the poster implies that girls who are or were from CHIJ are sleazy. “It’s so in your face; I’m not sure why no one is suing yet,” she added.

Can't Help It, Joking

Can’t Help It, Joking

Holy Infant Jesus! Using the CHIJ crest to promote a dress-up event is not so much insulting to alumni as it is corny and unimaginative. Filter club should know better than to question the chastity of CHIJ girls, hinting not just at naughty cosplay kinkiness, but paedophilia as well. There are, of course, many ways of promoting a ‘Back to school’ theme, and even if AC boys don’t mind being referred to as sugar daddies who drive desperate CHIJ girls about in Daddy’s car, brandishing a prestigious school brand renown for its absetemious preachings is just asking for it. It’s like draping Dora the explorer in lingerie.

This also isn’t the first time CHIJ fiercely defended its squeaky-clean, God fearing, girl-next-door image. You know they mean business when they take action even against the national paper, not to mention a club. In 2006, the board threatened to sue SPH, in particular the Sunday Times for a ‘tongue-in-cheek’ take on ‘IJ’ girls as part of an unofficial ‘Singapore Encyclopedia’, for the following defamatory sentence.

IJ girls is a generalisation for girls who study in CHIJ schools and who like to hem their school uniforms real short, wear their belts real low on their hips, and are allegedly EASY when it comes to the opposite sex.

Chairperson at the time Donna Marie Aeria again made reference to the many ’6 year olds’ damaged by this shameful stereotype. She also happens to be trained as a lawyer, not a nun. (Incidentally, the current IJ board does have a couple of nuns, but twice as many MEN). In the same offending article, there was a cartoon of a ‘chain-smoking sarong party girl’, according to a proud parent of a CHIJ student in the Royal Ballet Academy. Nowhere in the ST paragraph above was SPG hinted at, and sometimes it only takes a backfiring complaint from an uptight parent to perpetuate a myth that wasn’t even there in the first place.

But any school, convent or otherwise, would have its share of ‘good girls gone bad’. In 2000, it was reported that 6 CHIJ Toa Payoh girls were arrested for suspected drug-taking within school premises (6 arrested CHIJ girls sent for drug tests, 5 July 2000). 2 years later, another group of CHIJ girls were caught consuming ketamine in the school toilet (Schoolgirls admit to using drugs, 16 Dec 2002).  Serial shoplifter and former CHIJ girl Goh Lee Yin was caught for stealing items ranging from canned fruit to jelly powder WHILE ON BAIL. Not quite close to the slut stereotype, but one particular former CHIJ girl  and now based in LA actress named Gwyendoline Yeo (she’s the NIECE of George Yeo) did state for the record that she ‘wouldn’t mind playing Singaporean porn starlet Annabel Chong in a movie’. The latter was from RGS, not CHIJ. Praise the lord.

But the only reason why people take notice when CHIJ girls make the news whenever they get into trouble is because they ARE from CHIJ, a proud unit founded on all things holy and virtuous that anything so much as a student winking at a boy is frowned upon, a position which is ripe for double standards. Last year, a CHIJ teacher dressed up as Lady GIGI to perk up her lessons, an obvious reference to Lady GAGA, a celebrity known for her dazzling style but also obnoxious blasphemy. The Lady herself also openly embraces homosexual and transgender lovin’ in ‘Born this Way’, not something that IJ teachers would like their flock to ‘stand up’ for.

This is a Convent, for God’s sake, with very powerful leaders who put their wagging fingers to litigious use whenever one dares besmirch the school crest or does fetishistic things to used uniforms (like posing as a schoolgirl and selling them online) Hell hath no fury like women from Infant Jesus scorned, and anyone who insists on gracing Filter’s Vice Convent event in an IJ uniform risks getting their ears pulled.

Golfers fighting at Kranji Sanctuary

From ‘Golfer bashed at Kranji Course’, 11 Dec 2011, article by Teh Jen Lee, TNP

Golf is hardly a contact sport, but a fight broke out between two golfers on Wednesday morning, landing one of them in hospital. The name of the golfers are not known, but the incident took place at the Kranji Sanctuary Golf Course, near Hole 3.

…While verbal arguments can take place quite often, up to once a week sometimes, they do not usually escalate to physical violence…A common flashpoint is when a golfer hits a ball and it lands too close to another golfer. The first golfer is supposed to shout “Fore!” but sometimes they do not, or the other golfer does not hear.

Another source of friction is when a golfer’s ball falls near another’s and he mistakenly hits the wrong ball, thus disrupting the other golfer’s play. Mr Daniel Ng, 50, who has been golfing for about 20years, said he has seen golfers drive their buggy to confront the other golfer and demand an explanation.

“They will shout threatening things like ‘You watch out’. But it’s mostly verbal and they normally won’t use their golf equipment as a weapon,” said Mr Ng, who is a golf instructor. Things can also get heated when betting is involved and the players argue about the rules of the game, he added.

(Mr Robert Koh): “Sometimes people are impatient over slow play or they perceive others to be playing dangerously. It happened to my friend. He hit a ball and someone in the group ahead of him was not happy as they had not moved off yet so they lodged a complaint. He honestly didn’t know because there was a blind spot there.”

You have been FORE-warned. Golf is a deceptively dangerous sport, and no longer the realm of gentlemen ever since the Tiger Woods sex fiasco. It only appears to be safe because it proceeds at such an excruciatingly slow and tedious pace without anything much happening that I suspect golfers are secretly craving for some brute confrontation, blood and sweat like ‘real’ sports. The time one takes to place a shot is just the length of time for one to methodically plot a murder. Arguments over ball placements and dangerous putts may get you clobbered with a club, a fearsome weapon that ranks among the deadliest sports equipment along with the baseball bat and hockey stick. If you have a good aim and a nasty swing, you could even fracture someone’s skull with a well placed golf ball if you’re going for remote killing. Irate golfers also have a bonus vehicle at their disposal to mow down anyone who so much as touches the wrong ball during play.

The chilling potential of golf equipment to terrorise was captured in a little  South Korean film called 3-Iron. In the disturbing horror-thriller Funny Games, a golf club was the weapon of choice of psychopaths holding a family hostage. Golf courses get blown up and bums are used as target practice in the 80′s goofball flick  Caddyshack, while Adam Sandler lampooned the sport’s inherent violence to fart-joke proportions in Happy Gilmore. I can’t name one serious film about golf as a profession, and flamboyant as Tiger Woods may be, no one has considered making a movie out of his larger-than-life story to date. Golf is usually portrayed in film as a device for mayhem or Candid-camera standards of low-brow comedy, and ironically this dramatic exaggeration of an otherwise dreary sport which makes Gateball look like Dodgeball in comparison has spilled over into real life.

Forget the spacious, picturesque oases or SANCTUARIES of green calm and tranquility that our golf clubs like to imagine themselves to be. In 2009, some Singapore Island Country Club golfers came to blows with some punks trespassing on the green.  According to one of the victims, ‘spades, tee markers and golf balls‘ were being flung all over the place. Tee markers are basically sharp pins, while balls are lethal projectiles in their own right. This is no ‘sanctuary’, it’s an armory, a battlefield. With the added benefit of shrub cover, tee boxes, ponds and protected space, golf is probably one of the rare sports in which one can wage armed battle or commit murder without anyone noticing.

There are golf hazards aside from getting into brawls. If you’re extremely unlucky, you could get electrocuted by lightning, as what happened last year at Sentosa Golf Club, and this year at Laguna National Golf and Country Club. If not death by lightning in a sudden storm,  then by falling branches (Golfer killed by falling branch during storm, June 1997). You could also accidentally drive your buggy into a pond and drown (‘Death at golf club’, 2010), or die ‘mysteriously’ (Body found in lake’, 2 Aug 2002, ST, also Sentosa Golf Club). More commonly, you may lose your sight after being hit in the eye by stray golf balls, or inflict brain injury upon a child (No idea what children are doing on golf courses either). You don’t even have to launch a golf ball to hurt someone. In the 70′s, cutting a ball in half alone may trigger an explosion due to its ‘pressurised  liquid core’, and there was even a medical paper written on the case. So not only are fast balls as dangerous as rubber bullets, they are unpredictable mini grenades which you should keep away from curious children at all costs.

If you’re a clumsy novice who’s too eager to land a first birdie, you may hit yourself on the head/face with your own club/ricocheted ball slapstick-style, sustain back injuries and even your ELBOWS from holding the club too tightly (Golf goofs, July 2001, Today). According to a 1991 British Medical Journal article, golf is more dangerous for kids than skateboarding, horseriding or even SOCCER, with most hospitalised after being struck by a club or a ball. Even if you play golf in knight’s armour, it won’t guarantee safety to NON-golfers i.e caddies, lawn cutters, gardeners etc who suffer because of a wild, impatient putt.

So, why are our soccer players and racecar drivers getting all the attention and biographical movies, when the true sports warriors  whom we should really admire are golfers, professionals who risk it all on the fairways (or FEARways?): Blindness, drowning, buggy collisions, electrocution, back/hip injury, elbow/wrist injury, skull fracture and death, all for the singular purpose of getting a ball into a tiny hole.

Double O’s double standards

From ‘Ladies Night Dress Code’, 28 June 2011, Voices, Today

(Shalini Jayaraj and Jerrie Tan Qiu Lin): MY FRIENDS and I regularly patronise dblO, a nightclub, on Wednesdays as women get complimentary entry because of Ladies Night. This practice is longstanding among most nightclubs. My friends and I have never had problems getting in.

However, on June 15, an extremely rude bouncer denied a friend entry, citing an alleged “dress code” that women must follow in order to obtain free entry. Apparently, my friend was not dressed in a sufficiently “feminine” manner.  As this was the first time we had encountered such a refusal, my friends and I protested and asked to speak to the manager. First, such a “dress code” was never publicised nor represented to us.

Second, this “non-femininely dressed” friend never had problems getting into dblO in the past. Granted, she does not dress in a “feminine” manner but is most obviously a female.  The manager claimed this “dress code” had been the club’s practice since it opened. Recognising the futility of challenging the code’s existence, we enquired how we could modify my friend’s outfit so as to meet the requisite standard. The manager was contradictory in what he considered “sufficiently feminine”.

First, he advised my friend to head home to change into a dress before coming back. Upon our pointing out of several women who were dressed in a similar fashion as my friend, and yet let in free, the manager said they were allowed in because they wore make-up. But even after my friends and I asked if she could be let in upon applying cosmetics, the manager was reluctant.

I suggest that the management at dblO be more transparent about this “dress code” requirement for Ladies Night. While I do not want to question the management’s reasoning behind the requirement, it would certainly be fairer to the public if such a “dress code” were plainly set out.  Only then will my friends and I have the option of deciding whether to adhere to the required theme or head to another nightclub – especially when the alternative to complimentary entry is a payment labelled on the signboard as being the cover charge for “males”.

This ‘dress code’ is nothing more than a formality substituting for what’s basically a subjective, inevitably sexist assessment of how ‘ladylike’ a patron is, which varies from bouncer to bouncer. A  tomboyish celebrity would be granted entry even if she were in sneakers and a T-shirt, and such biasness is an inevitable catch of Ladies’ Night, an event with long established discriminatory practices; demanding that girls wear lipstick, are not handicapped, and that they must be entirely female. Some clubs like Overeasy even match the number of free drinks you get with your brasize. As a business and with a reputation to maintain, clubs have every right to be discerning in its clientele, otherwise bouncers would be plying their trade as professional gymrats or PE teachers (They’re too bulky to be football players, not big enough to be sumo wrestlers). But it’s an unfortunate fact that if you’re not hip, physically appealing or dressed to kill, as compared to the rest of the socialites savvy with the ‘unspoken rules’ and spent the last 2 hours dolling up, you will be the brunt of euphemistic excuses when the truth is something no girl ever wants to hear, that no amount of make-up will ever earn you that right to a free drink.

It seems that ladies night is more discriminating towards its own sex than paying males, despite what some ads tell you about how ‘discrimination works’ to a lady’s advantage. It’s all part of that exclusivity mythos that distinguishes boutique clubs from your run-of-the-mill pubs, and as maddeningly condescending as it is to put on make up just because a bouncer says so,  it’s worth nothing that we men do things we’re not exactly proud of to gain acceptance into social circles all the time, whether it’s wearing a tie, wearing shiny shoes, or shaving every morning. Of course, if you’re a fiercely independent woman who doesn’t need anyone to tell you what to do or clubs patronising your sex with freebies, you can exercise free will, hit another joint, and tweet about your humiliating experience so no one will ever step into DblO again, since that is the risk clubs are willing to take rejecting women who don’t fit their ‘client profile’. Double O was more blunt in its reason for rejection back in 2005 (See below, ‘Female, but not welcome at a Ladies’ Night’, 4 Nov 2005, Voices, Today), whereby a ‘butch’ was turned away. Hence the politically correct but ambiguous ‘dress code’ 6 years later. Perhaps some definition of what clubs mean by ‘Lady’ is in order, since we’ve been using ‘lady’ far too loosely in daily conversation when we really mean ‘woman’ most of the time. The terminology may have changed, but everything else about Double O’s Ladies Night that makes it still successful, however you want to label it a winning, sexist ‘anti-butch’ formula, hasn’t changed one bit.

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