“One of my Parsons teachers thinks I should try to monetize my blog. To be honest, I’m not really inclined to go in that direction. But I don’t want to disappoint him, either. I’m torn.”
He gives me a thoughtful look. “It’s always important to stay open to new ideas and concepts. It’s the only way to grow as an artist.”
That was not what I was hoping to hear. Oh well. Just let it go, Clementine.
Henry points to my cup. “You’d better drink your coffee before it gets cold.”
“Oh, right.” I lift my cup and take a long comforting sip. At the first jolt of caffeine, I feel like myself again.
“Thanks for this. It’s just what I needed.”
“My pleasure. I’m used to that flight route. I know how exhausting it can be.”
“So what did you study in New York? Was it fashion related?” I take another sip. The caffeine is really kicking in now.
“I studied environmental sustainability at NYU. That’s why I sit on a panel at school about eco-fashion. It’s my expertise from undergrad.” His eyes twinkle. I can tell he loves what he does — that’s part of what makes him so magnetic.
One of the young baristas shows up with our soup. I dig right in.
“So, Clementine, tell me more about why you decided to come to Shanghai.”
“Upward mobility,” I joke.
“You don’t strike me as someone who cares about stuff like that.”
“You’re right, I don’t really. But you know how New Yorkers can be obsessed with financial success. I’m just here to learn and have fun, expand my knowledge and my horizons. The timing wasn’t great, but I’m happy to be here now.”
“Nothing negative, I hope?”
“Just some personal stuff that was tough to leave behind.”
“Do you mean Jonathan?” he asks matter-of-factly.
“Whoa. You’ve really done some deep research, haven’t you?” I say, blushing. Why did I never mention Jonathan to him in our texts?
“Yep, you can find out pretty much anything on social media these days. I came across a picture of you two at a Parsons gala last fall.”
“Yes, he’s a really special guy.”
Henry’s gaze is intense, and so is my inner reaction to it. This is uncomfortable. Waves of guilt and unease wash over me. I’m not sure what more to say, so I take another sip of coffee. He changes the subject.
“I’m heading a panel next week about the effect of blue jeans manufacturing on rivers. I put down your name as a guest. I hope you’ll be there.”
“That sounds terrific, of course I’ll be there. It could make a great topic for a blog post.”
He gives me a curious look — I’m not sure why. This time, I change the subject.
“Maddie suggested that I visit the Song Liung boutique. I assume you know it?”
“Oh yeah, it’s a great place. We could meet there tomorrow if you’d like, before your classes start.”
“Cool, I’d love to see some of the fashion scene before the semester begins. I’ve heard so many great things about the local designers. And I’m excited about classes, too …”
“I think you’re going to love the program. It goes into a lot of depth, and the teachers are on point.” He wipes his fingers with a napkin. “And I think the school will benefit from having someone with your vision in it.”
“Right back at you.”
“If you need anything, anything at all, just WeChat me, okay?” he says.
“Sounds good.” We get up from our chairs, and I hesitate a moment before giving him a friendly hug to thank him for all that he’s done for me today. He gives me a look that make me feel like he can see right through me. It sends shivers through my body, all the way down to my sneakers. At a loss for words, I blurt out, “Thanks again for everything!” and rush out of the café as fast as I can.
I’m running away from my emotions, my strong attraction to him, and, most likely, from myself.
After changing into track pants and my favourite sweatshirt, I try calling Jonathan again, but again I go straight to voicemail. That’s strange. Is there an issue with the trial? I can’t help but wonder if I should be worried. I decide to reach out to Jake — that’ll make me feel better.
“Hey, you! So happy to see your face! I miss it already!” I say as soon as we connect on FaceTime.
“I miss you, too, pumpkin. How was the flight?”
“Fantastic! I met a fabulous woman named Sandra, and she had the coolest glasses, just like you.”
“Oh, fab. I knew you were going to replace me sooner or later. I was hoping it would be later.”
“Ha ha. You’re number one, remember?”
“Happy to hear. What’s that you’re eating?” He’s referring to the dessert I picked up on my way home.
“It’s roasted grass jelly. It’s made with an herb called mesona and served with coconut milk. Apparently it’s good for digestion.” I playfully take a bite in front of the camera. “Mmm, delicious.”
“Well, I wish you could FedEx some to me tout de suite.”
“I would if I could. You’d love the food scene here, especially the street food. They sell all sorts of delicacies across town.”
“Ooh, like what?” I can almost hear his mouth watering.
“One thing I can’t wait to try is jianbing. It’s a popular breakfast food. It’s kind of like a fried crepe. They spread eggs over the surface of the pancake as it cooks, then they add crunchy strips of fried wonton, cilantro, scallions, and pickles, with sweet hoisin and chili sauce. And each one is cooked to order on a cast-iron grill.”
“That sounds amazing! You’re making me hungry. Can you please send me pictures when you try it? I’d love that. I can discover the local food along with you.”
“Sure, that would be fun.”
“So talk to me about that cool café. Who did you go with? Henry?” He grins.
“Uh-huh.”
“And?”
“He really is attractive and magnetic. Smart, too. It may become a problem.”
“I knew it.”
“I just need to focus on school, not on men.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“That was your advice, Jake!”
“Well … happy to hear my wisdom is sinking in.”
“I’m working on it, anyway. So what’s new in NYC?”
“Ellie’s been keeping me super busy today. She’s helped me put the finishing touches on the samples and she has me on the night shift, sewing up a storm. They’re so beautiful, Clem — you will just die!”
“Let me see!”
He turns his phone to show me the pictures on his computer. They’re stunning. I’m not surprised; he and Ellie are super talented.
“They look incredible.”
“I’m really grateful. To her and to you.” He turns the phone back around to show his face, and points into the screen at me. “I know what you did.”
“What did I do?”
“You asked her to take care of me, didn’t you?”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” I spoon another bite of dessert.
“Oh, come on!”
“All right. Maybe just a little coaxing on my part.”
“Well, your plan is totally working. She’s keeping me out of trouble. Off the gambling sites and off the poker tables. You’re a genius.”
I hold back tears. I miss him so much. And the fact that I could help him out, even in the smallest way, means the world to me.
“I just want you to be happy, healthy, and productive.” I point my spoon at the screen, punctuating each word.
“Thanks, Clem. Sending some big love your way.” He air-kisses the camera.
I air-kiss him back. “I gotta go finish this dessert now, I’ll talk to you later!”
“Enjoy it, babe, you deserve it! Stick to the sweet desserts instead of the sticky men. Mwah!”
Chapter Twenty
I RING THE BELL of the house on
Fumin Road and get ready to discover the work of the young designers featured at Song Liung, the trendy boutique Maddie recommended. Needless to say, I’m pretty excited. I’m proud of myself — I took the subway here. Not that subways themselves are a big deal; in Paris and New York, taking the subway is a way of life. But I still think I deserve a pat on the back for navigating alone through this mega metropolis.
I hardly slept last night, thanks to jet lag and to worrying about Jonathan.
I tried calling him a third time, late last night, but his phone was off.
He did send me a cryptic text this morning saying he got my message, he’s glad the trip went well, and he’ll call me later. Whatever. I’m going to try not to let this get to me or ruin my day. Following the advice of Cécile’s etiquette book once again, I won’t overreact, and I will chill out. Maybe the book doesn’t word it exactly like that, but that’s my interpretation.
I did a bit of research about this store in advance of meeting Henry. It carries clothing lines by twenty young designers from Beijing and Shanghai, including the delicate tailoring of Liu Min and the environmentally friendly designs of Sara Yun. Also, I can’t wait to check out the retro sunglasses from CHairEYES that were inspired by old movies.
I like to think of myself as an eco-warrior with a decisive spirit: I choose to buy most of my clothes from thrift shops, consignment boutiques, and flea markets. Most of the time, I enjoy and prefer buying second-hand.
Give me funky, quirky, and original over expensive any day. Not that I don’t appreciate high-quality fabrics or clothes — quite the contrary. And a shop that supports local designers and ecological, sustainable fashion makes me swoon.
“Hey, Clementine!” Henry calls out from the shop entrance. He’s wearing a plain T-shirt, black jeans, colourful sneakers, and cool aviators. He looks good.
I’m wearing a cream-coloured linen skirt made by a fellow Parsons student, a silk top with embroidered roses, and platform shoes in rainbow colours. I’m also wearing a bright-pink lipstick and funky vintage sunglasses, and I’ve got my hair down. This look represents how I feel about being here: totally carefree. It also reminds me of something I once read about artist Frida Kahlo: she believed that clothing and fashion connect us to our inner selves and to the world around us. Looking around this amazing store I’ve just entered, I feel connected, indeed.
“I’ve asked a friend who works here to show us around,” Henry announces.
“Cool.”
A young man saunters toward us with a grin.
“Hi, Clementine, I’m Mark. Welcome to Shanghai! Henry told me about you and your blog.” He speaks quite good English. “Let me show you around.”
I look around the elegant space. It’s three floors of contemporary art and jewellery and carefully curated objects. In many ways, it reminds me of my dad’s store in Paris.
The majority of the world’s clothes, whether for the luxury or the mass market, are manufactured here in China, and a nation of avid fashion consumers has sprung up.
“I think you’ll like the work of Liu Min,” Mark says, pointing to a display.
“So do I. I’ve seen her work online. It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it’s absolutely gorgeous,” Henry chimes in. It’s refreshing to be surrounded by men who appreciate this kind of beauty.
I take a look at the display of pieces. A blouse that combines a cherry blossom pattern with a more masculine cut catches my eye. It’s totally drool-worthy.
Henry sees me admiring it.
“Try it on!”
“Oh, thanks but no thanks. I’m trying to watch my spending.”
“It’ll be my treat. Your welcome gift to Shanghai. You’ll be giving me some coverage of my panel session on your blog. Let this be an informal way of paying you back.”
“Well, um, I haven’t agreed to anything just yet,” I say, putting my hands on my hips playfully. “And I’m just happy to help out — really.”
His expression changes subtly; I can tell he’s disappointed.
I don’t want to offend him, so I politely reach for the blouse and disappear into the change room. I need to work on letting myself be more open to receive. Apparently, in some cultures, saying no to a gift can be a block to friendship.
Moments later, after chatting and taking a selfie with a kind young woman trying on a jaw-dropping dress, I reappear with a huge grin on my face. The blouse does look good with my skirt. I prance around the shop. Mark gives me a thumbs-up, and Henry snaps a photo on his phone.
“Okay, it’s a done deal,” he says.
I hesitate for a moment. Something about his comment makes this feel transactional, as though he’s expecting things from me in return. It makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. Clearly, Henry comes from a wealthy family, but that doesn’t make it okay for him to try to buy my friendship or respect. I just don’t operate that way.
“Thanks, Henry. But I just can’t accept it. It’s very generous of you to offer, though.”
“It’s too late, the blouse is all yours!” He looks over at Mark and grins.
“Really?” I guess he paid for it while I was in the change room. “Then thank you. It’s gorgeous.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he says.
I nod back, hoping I look grateful. This generous gesture has caught me off guard.
“Next stop, Annata Vintage. You’ll love this shop. It’s totally you.”
“Are you for real? That sounds right up my alley.” I can’t believe my luck. A man who loves vintage. And then it hits me suddenly that Jonathan has never once accompanied me on any of my thrifting or flea market expeditions, and the thought makes me a little sad.
I just hope to hear back from Jonathan soon, before any feelings for Henry take root.
In the taxi on the way to the vintage shop, I take a second to look at my phone. There’s a missed call from Jonathan. My heart tightens, and I feel guilty for missing it, especially while out shopping with another man. I regret accepting the blouse, too, especially when some of the people closest to my heart are struggling financially.
I consider asking the driver to turn around so I can go home and return the call, but Henry changes my mind.
“You’re going to adore this place, Clementine. The owners, Julia and Ting, are into recycling and vintage and they have amazing taste.”
“Oh yeah?”
“They have racks filled with fantastic vintage pieces. They regularly travel the world to find treasures that capture the look and feel of a 30s Shanghai boudoir. The store’s decorated with wallpaper from the 30s and 40s, and it has a little courtyard where they host book exchanges, clothing swaps, and theatre performances.”
Wow. He’s really piqued my interest. The owners sound so original and creative. I can’t turn back now. I’ll call Jonathan as soon as I get home.
“That sounds terrific. I’ll need to go home after this, though.”
“Sure, no problem,” Henry responds with a smile. I can tell he likes showing me around this city. And I have to say, he’s been totally on target so far.
We arrive in a small alleyway, and as we exit the car in front of a jewel box–sized shop, I hear giggles and the sound of 70s R&B. I’m already smitten.
Henry opens the door, and I walk in, feeling like a child entering a fairyland. I gasp with delight as I take in the small, charming space. It reminds me of some of the cool vintage shops in New York’s East Village. The walls are a cool-blue hue, and there’s an antique iron bed right in the middle of the store. The owners welcome us with beaming smiles as soon as we walk in.
“Hello, Clementine, I’m Julia,” one of them says in accented but perfectly clear English. She’s wearing large red glasses, turquoise vintage pants, and a crop top made of pink, purple, and blue silk. She looks supremely cool. “Meet my partner, Ting.”
“I’m so happy to meet you both. And I love your store!”
“Thank you! We love your style! We saw the pictures you posted on WeChat
,” Ting shoots back. She speaks English fairly well, too.
“Oh, thanks.” I’m enjoying the compliment, but also confused. “What photos?”
“She’s talking about the photos of you in that Liu Min blouse that I shared on WeChat,” Henry says.
I guess they were checking out his profile in anticipation of our appointment at their store. The fact that Henry shared photos of me on his account without telling me makes me squirm a little. Normally, I wouldn’t want anyone to take pictures of me shopping — that’s not something I’d like to share publicly — but in this case, since it involves a shop Maddie recommended and a fashionable local designer, I let it slide.
And the feedback about my style is a really nice boost to my morale. Maybe the universe put the exchange program and Henry in my way so that I could get a move on with my projects on an international scale.
I explore the store some more. My heart races as I admire an orange-and-yellow jacket with dainty butterflies. The label says it’s from Japan. The detailing is impeccable. That’s why I love vintage so much: unlike some of the shoddy construction you find in fast fashion, the quality in vintage can’t be beat. And it’s a good viable alternative to fast fashion for people on a budget. I make a mental note to blog about the subject. I find a long cocktail dress with pink and green flowers and an open back that comes together in a large bow. Perfect for an outdoor wedding or a fancy cocktail party. I know Jake would get a total kick out of it.
“Can I take a photo of the back of this dress?” I ask. “For a designer friend back home.”
“Sure!” Ting responds.
“You guys have terrific taste,” I gush. “I love all the details in the store.” Julia and Ting have included handwritten details about the origin of each item on its price tag, such as 70s Japan or 50s–60s England — a really nice touch. I take a few pictures for Jake.
After I’ve inspected every single piece, taken a few pictures for my blog, and tried on a few things, Julia invites me to sit outside, in the courtyard. I select a vintage bistro chair. Ting brings out cups of freshly brewed coffee — a girl after my own heart.
Bonjour Shanghai Page 10