Bonjour Shanghai

by Isabelle Laflèche

  “What great hospitality!”

  “People come into the shop from all around the world,” Julia says. “We love it when they stay to chat.”

  “I bet they always do. There’s a really nice vibe about the place.”

  Ting puts on an old jazz record on a portable turntable, and we all sit together under the plane trees and talk about our favourite New York vintage shops, alternating between English and Mandarin. I’m grateful for practice. I take notes on my phone about their favourite places in the city, including cafés, drugstores, and bars.

  “Where are you heading next?” Julia asks.

  I turn to Henry. I’m about to respond but he answers first. “School. Clementine needs to pick up her school materials.”

  Oh, right. Henry’s brought me back to reality.

  “And then home. I have some calls to make.”

  “What are you studying?” Julia asks.

  “Fashion journalism and online media.”

  “Oh, wonderful.”

  “Yeah, it’s exciting. And it’ll help me with my writing. I plan to write about you two, I promise. As soon as I set foot in here, it was love at first sight.”

  And then I feel Henry’s strong gaze on me and I blush, embarrassed that I’ve uttered those words. I shouldn’t have. I don’t want there to be any confusion in Henry’s mind. Even if there might be some in mine.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “JULIA AND TING are so cool! Thanks for taking me to their shop. That was awesome. They’re going to be key members of my local tribe.”

  “I think so, too. I could tell they really liked you.”

  “Shanghai and I are getting along famously,” I say confidently, a huge grin on my face. There’s a reason this city is called the Paris of the East.

  It’s a bright, sunny day that matches my mood. I stare through the window of the taxi as we drive to school, and my senses go into overdrive, taking in the sight of the modern skyscrapers, the people, more skyscrapers and more people. It’s like Manhattan on steroids.

  We drive through the financial district, one of the most happening neighbourhoods, where many of the city’s attractions and landmarks are. Henry points out the Oriental Pearl Tower, the Cruise Port, the History Museum, the Jin Mao Tower, the Natural Wild Insect Kingdom, and the Ocean Aquarium.

  “An insect kingdom? No thanks!”

  “Oh, come on, insects are some of the oldest animals on earth. How could you not be interested?”

  “I just prefer not to get too close to them, that’s all.”

  “Don’t you like butterflies? Didn’t I see a butterfly print on one of your skirts at your place yesterday? A Japanese butterfly expert once sent thirty boxes of rare butterfly specimens to this museum.”

  “Okay, I do love butterflies. They’re one of my favourite creatures. Not just for their beauty, but also because of the incredible transformation they undergo. I think they’re a great metaphor for life.”

  “Shedding the old skin to become what you’re truly meant to be?”

  “Yes! And I love seeing them fly, especially the rare kinds. They’re mesmerizing.”

  “Just like you.”

  My heartbeat accelerates and my face turns a dark shade of pink. “Yeah, I’m just like an insect. The pesky kind!” I say awkwardly. I’m not accustomed to this kind of flirting.

  Henry just laughs and looks out the car window. It’s pretty obvious he knows what kind of effect he has on me, and he’s just lapping it up. “I’ll take you there. You’ll love it.”

  I say nothing and just blush some more. What else is new?

  A song comes on the radio. The lyrics are about driving in the sun, sharing a special moment with someone you care deeply about. It’s a very romantic song. I catch Henry peeking at me out of the corner of his eye. I wonder if he’s picking up on the lyrics, too.

  Fifteen minutes later, we reach our destination.

  “We’re here!” Henry announces, pulling out his phone to pay the driver.

  “No, it’s my turn,” I say. “This is school related, and I have an allowance for it.”

  “If you insist …”

  Henry is just really relaxed about money. He has a quiet, refined elegance, too, like the members of old-money families I’ve crossed paths with on Manhattan’s Upper East Side.

  We enter the modern Condé Nast building and my heart nearly stops. For real. The facility is truly impressive. I get the same gigantic rush of adrenalin I felt when I first walked into the main Parsons building in New York. It’s difficult to explain, but it borders on euphoria. One thing I know for sure is that I’ve picked the right thing to do with my life. There’s no doubt about that.

  Henry walks me to a large, airy room with colourful floor cushions, low sofas, and bright windows and skylights. It feels like a cool lounge, minus the noise and the drinking. It’s actually quite serene, and it makes me feel introspective and reflective.

  “This is where all the guest lectures take place. Guest speakers come and lecture here all the time. As a matter of fact, there’s a lecture in about twenty minutes by the editor of GQ Asia. You wanna listen in on it?”

  “I’d love to.”

  He just grins. It’s as if he planned the timing of our visit so that I could hear this talk.

  “Okay, we’ll come back after you get registered.” Henry points toward the admin offices.

  “So, what do you plan on doing after graduating?” I ask as we stroll down the hall. A few fashionable students walk by us and nod. Some are dressed in super trendy outfits, but most look relaxed in simple, non-flashy clothing, like jeans and T-shirts. I appreciate this low-key vibe. Just like at Parsons, my quirky style may stick out here, but that’s okay.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. Maybe I’ll launch an eco-fashion NGO, or start my own conscious fashion advertising agency. Or both.” He laughs. “Work-wise, I can be pretty intense.”

  Work-wise? I want to say that his intensity goes far beyond his work life, but I keep that to myself. I don’t know him well enough yet. “Those sound like great ideas.”

  “That’s all they are right now, just ideas. But I’m seriously looking into them. What are your plans? Do you want to stay in America? Reach for the stars in the Big Apple?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure yet. I know I want to continue writing. That’s part of the plan. And expanding Bonjour Girl. Who knows where that will take me?”

  “Far. You already have an impressive following for such a short time frame. Have you ever thought of launching your own line of accessories? Or a print magazine for everyday cool girls around the world, one that would appeal to girls of different cultures and backgrounds? I mean, that’s your blog’s purpose, isn’t it?”

  I stop in my tracks. Such great ideas. My very own magazine and accessories line? I could even ask Jake and Ellie to help design them. In my mind, a resounding yes pops up in bright, bold technicolour.

  “Wow. You just planted a seed. You’re a creative genius! You should open an agency. I’ll be your first client.”

  He puts his hands in his pockets, gazes at me, and smiles peacefully, as he’s done several times since we’ve met. Quiet assurance — he just knows that he’s got it.

  At the admin offices, Henry introduces me to the director of the program. Her hair is cut short and she’s wearing a long flowing, purple-and-black tunic like the ones Ellie likes to wear, and some cool white-and-black platform shoes.

  “Clementine, welcome!” she says in English. “Maddie told me all about you. We’re so glad that you’ll be spending a semester with us.”

  “Thanks! Me, too.”

  “You’ll be a great addition to the student body. Here’s your welcome package. Read through it, and come back and see me this week if you have any questions, all right?” She smiles, her eyes twinkling kindly. “And we’ll see you in class on Monday.”

  I’m floating on a pink cloud as Henry walks me back to the lounge.

 
I float even higher when I see the GQ editor looking snazzy in a sharp black suit.

  And I nearly go into orbit when Henry, who sits on the school’s event committee, introduces me to the GQ editor as an “upcoming blogging sensation.”

  But the vibration of my phone starts to bring me back down to earth. I see that I have several texts and missed calls. All from Jonathan. How could I have missed these?

  When I see texts full of all caps and exclamation marks, I come crashing down faster than a hot air balloon that’s run out of propane.

  “I’m really sorry,” I say to Henry and the GQ editor, “but something’s come up back in New York. I need to get home and make an urgent call.”

  “What? Right now? But what about the lecture?” Henry looks dumbfounded, as does the GQ editor.

  “I know, I did really want to hear it. Could you record it for me on your phone? I’d be super grateful.”

  “Sure,” Henry says, sounding deflated. I guess I was right. He did bring me here to listen to the lecture. It was planned all along. I feel even worse now.

  “I’m really sorry, Henry, I’ll connect with you later, okay?”

  “I hope it’s nothing too serious.” I can tell he’s trying to discreetly find out more. He can probably pick up on my vibes. I’m sure I’m radiating negativity.

  “It’ll be fine,” I lie.

  As soon as the taxi pulls up in front of my building, I thank the driver and rush up to the apartment. I drop my handbag, my keys, and the package containing the blouse on the counter. I grab my phone, and for the first time since I arrived, I sit down at the desk and stare out the windows overlooking the courtyard. This soothes my anxious spirit and nerves enough that I can make the call.

  “Hey.” Jonathan’s tone is curt and dry. I can tell he’s angry.

  “Hi, is everything okay? You sound upset.”

  “Well, you tell me, Clementine. I mean, how do you think I feel, knowing that the first thing my girlfriend did after flying halfway across the planet was to go on a coffee date with some guy she met online?”

  Oh god. He saw the coffee photos Henry posted. Has Jonathan actually been stalking Henry’s WeChat feed?

  “And then the cherry on top — or should I say the cherry blossom on the blouse — is you going out shopping with this guy today, while I sit here waiting to lose half my business. If you really are just ‘pen pals,’ how did you get to be so chummy so quickly, is what I’d like to know!”

  I’m frozen, caught in ugly flashbacks of my parents’ fights. So much pain and anger.

  He sighs loudly. “Look, is there something going on between you two? If there is, just come out and say it, okay? Be honest with me.”

  Come on, Clem, say something. But I just sit there, tongue-tied, filled with guilt. I understand his frustration, but also hate his possessiveness and petty jealousy. That indignation keeps me from responding.

  He sighs again. “Well, since you’re not talking … I guess I have my answer. Enjoy Shanghai.”

  He disconnects.

  Horrified and unable to think straight, I run into the bedroom and throw myself onto the bed. I feel terrible and alone. Terribly alone.

  How do I get myself out of this bloody mess?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I WAKE UP IN the middle of the night feeling groggy, wondering where the hell I am.

  One of my hands is grasping my Minnie Mouse doll, and the other is nestled beneath my pillow. I have no idea what time it is. I slowly drag my way out of sleep.

  And then I remember. A wave of guilt washes over me.

  And then sadness. I begin to weep.

  I feel terrible about what’s happened. I probably could have avoided this whole mess. What was I trying to prove with this friendship with Henry, anyway? Was I craving attention because Jonathan wasn’t around to provide it?

  I am conflicted about Henry. My feelings for him are unclear. This situation is messy. I roll onto my side, set the alarm for 6:00 a.m., and pull the duvet over my head, happy to disappear for just a while longer.

  It’s the first day of class.

  I’m sitting next to Henry and something feels off, as though I’m missing a limb.

  I miss Jonathan. I wish he would return my calls. His lasting anger has cut me to the bone. I know I should just accept it if he needs space, however painful it is. After all, I kind of aggravated things by not talking during that explosive conversation. I check my phone yet again, hoping he’s called or texted me, but he hasn’t.

  I think of that Beyoncé song, “Irreplaceable.” In that song, she replaces her love with someone new, but that isn’t my plan. Jonathan and I just need some time. We’ll get past this and then we’ll be fine, I just know it.

  It also feels funny to be sitting in fashion school without Jake, but I know he’s with me in spirit.

  I peek at Henry from the corner of my eye: smooth cheeks, elegant demeanour, gorgeous smile. And beautiful clothes — he’s always put together. Our school is located in Shanghai’s Huaihai Road shopping area, and before class, Henry was carrying shopping bags to his locker. Not many students have the means to shop around here, including me.

  How can he afford it? I don’t know for sure. There’s something really sleek about him, as though he doesn’t want to show his true nature, the cracks under the designer armour. Kind of like the fashion industry itself, which, let’s face it, can be superficial at times. Or is it just in Henry’s nature to strive for perfection in every aspect of his life?

  Maybe after school, I’ll get him to talk. But first I’ll have to apologize for running off yesterday.

  As soon as Wei Lin, our digital media and technology teacher, walks into class, I forget all about men. I’m riveted by her look and her fierce attitude. She’s roughly in her forties, and I know she’s worked in the local fashion and media industries for years. She’s the senior VP of one of the largest media companies in China, and also the fashion director of one of their popular websites. She stands tall and confident, sporting a razor-sharp bob, an avant-garde metallic jacket over a short black dress, slim trousers, and silver booties. She has real panache. I can’t wait to hear her speak.

  Henry sees my reaction and smiles. He knows this is why I came here: to get the inside scoop on the Chinese industry from the world’s most renowned professionals, and to get some of their personal insights. This class is a stepping stone to my goals. I’m psyched.

  Wei addresses the class in Mandarin first, introducing herself, her background, and the general topics that will be covered in class. She also explains some of the practical exercises we’ll be doing, including visiting her offices and writing a piece for her website. She announces that the best articles will be selected for publication in her company’s newsletter and on the website. This gets me totally lit up, and Henry nudges me, knowing how much that would mean to me. I grin and lift my coffee mug subtly in salute. I’m always up for a good writing challenge.

  Wei then switches to English, as many of the students come from around the world. I take copious notes as she starts talking about digital communications, the importance of online branding, the different Chinese social media sites, and where the fashion media industry is going next.

  She then addresses a topic that’s on everyone’s lips: Key Opinion Leaders, KOLs for short. This is the term used in China for what Westerners call “influencers.” Given that I’m building my own online following, this subject interests me a lot. Eventually, I’d like to start trends on my own, particularly in eco-fashion and conscientious ways of shopping. I don’t just want more followers; I want to influence change.

  “KOLs have become a big part of any brand’s checklist when operating in China. Their strong influence translates into massive earnings and income potential.”

  It’s clear how important it is for a brand to work with KOLs right now. But will it last? Will the public realize that some of these so-called internet celebrities are being paid tons of money to push products o
n us? Some of them don’t really do much to deserve the label of “celebrity,” if you ask me … but maybe that’s just sour grapes on my part.

  “With so many KOLs now on the scene and the number increasing every day, luxury brands should consider more creative ways to work with those who inspire and a have loyal following,” Wei says, making a sweeping hand gesture while she paces the front of the all-white classroom. She fits in perfectly with her surroundings. I’m totally inspired.

  “KOLs have more influence on consumer behaviour and social trends than some of the biggest movie stars and singers in this country do. It’s mind-boggling,” Wei continues.

  I think of Angelababy, one of the most famous KOLs in China, who has millions of social media followers. She collaborates with labels such as Dior and has graced the cover of the prestigious magazine Madame Figaro, among many others.

  I turn to Henry. He’s staring at the teacher with a look of awe on his face, as if he’s learning something earth-shattering. Being an influencer himself, none of this should be a surprise to him. But it looks as though some kind of light bulb is going off in his head.

  “There are Chinese KOLs in every imaginable field — not only fashion and sports, but also travel, pets, gardening, and food. Food is very popular right now.”

  She’s right about that. I’ve already noticed several young Chinese women taking photos of their food in restaurants and cafés. Chinese social media sites like Weibo and WeChat are filled with pictures of tiny cakes, bowls of noodles, and designer coffees.

  “But have we reached a stage of overreliance on KOLs?” the teacher asks rhetorically, while pacing back and forth. That was exactly what I was just wondering. “Perhaps. There’s room to be more creative and expansive with publicity money. I think it should be more about collaboration, not just plain ads.”

  Yes! My thoughts exactly. I’m really getting into what Wei is saying.

  “Some agencies that specialize in influencer marketing have over thirty-five thousand KOLs on their books — a huge number, which should sound alarm bells,” she warns.