Monday, April 27, 2015

Bra None

In a surprisingly long year filled with ups and downs, global catastrophes and the Kardashians, it was such a relief when the annual Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show rolled into town. And by town, I mean the TV set in our little living room in Toa Payoh.
            While other people mark their end of year with roast ham, hampers, champagne and Christmas buffets, we see off the worst of the past twelve months with an hour of towering Amazons, glorious wings, sculptured cheekbones and perilously high heels.
            “I swear to God, I love this show,” Amanda said a few nights ago as we settled in for the night to watch this year’s edition of the world’s best hour of TV.
            “They’re in London this year,” I said with great authority.
            “So dull,” Amanda mused. “Imagine if they held it in China. The ratings would explode!”
            “Ay, what is so great about this show, har?” Sharyn shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “They just walk around in their ling-erie, right? Like that interesting, meh?”
            “Oh my God, Sharyn,” Saffy said. “I hope you’re not going to make me regret inviting you to this event! It’s got everything. It’s got drama! It’s got lights! It’s got…It’s got…”
            “Taylor Swift!” I prompted.
            “It’s got Taylor Swift! It’s got hot women with hot bodies. It’s got glitter.”
            “Wings!” Amanda said. “Don’t forget the wings!”
            “Yes, I was just getting to that. You can’t forget the wings! They’re the best part of the show! It’s also got great set design. It’s got great music. It’s got famous people in the audience…”
            “Tyson Beckford is in the audience this year,” I said, scanning the E! Entertainment website.
            “Oh, he’s hot!” Amanda said.
            Saffy shuddered, her legendary bosom trembling like perfectly set jelly. “Totally!”
            “Oh, it’s starting, it’s starting!” Amanda said, literally bouncing up and down in her seat.
            “I mean, seriously,” Saffy said to Sharyn, “what more do you want from a show?”
            “Is this stupid machine set to record?” Amanda said as she peered at the recorder with deep suspicion. One year, we discovered that Saffy had set the record function to the wrong station. When we sat down a few nights later to re-watch the show, we found ourselves, for a few very confused seconds, watching a BBC documentary on penguins. Sharyn swears she heard Amanda’s screams all the way in Bedok.
            And so it began. Not to labour the point, but this was the balm to a rather dull year, break-ups, make-ups, job promotions no one really wanted, and general dissatisfaction about life in general. But then, as Amanda observed, if life was meant to be easy, we’d all have our own reality TV show.
We were spellbound from the opening sequence of golden wings all the way to Taylor Swift’s closing number which featured the models in black outfits and wings.
            “I wish I could walk like that Candice,” Amanda said at one stage. “Look at her! It’s like she’s got no bones in her hips!”
            “You walk like that into court, the judge sure send you to jail, one!” Sharyn observed. A little later, as Behati bounced onto the runway, she said, “You know, ah, I think this is all fake, one. They use computer. Like that Gollum in Lod of de Ring!”
            “Shut up, Sharyn, you’re killing the mood,” Amanda said.
“You know,” Saffy mused, stuffing her mouth with Garrett’s popcorn, “if I was that way inclined, I would be with Adriana Lima!”
            In spite for the unprecedented appearance of Adriana and Alessandra walking down the runway at the same time billowing red and blue chiffon behind them, Amanda swiveled her eyes from the screen towards Saffy. “Really?”
            “Oh my God, I so would!” Saffy said, her cheeks puffed up with popcorn.
            By the end of the show, as the models did their finale walk under a falling wave of balloons, Amanda was practically sweating with excitement while Saffy, for once, was tongue tied.
            Sensing an opportunity, Sharyn opened her mouth. “Yah, ok, not bad, lah, this show! But I still prefer to watch ‘The First Myth’! That one got Jiang Hong! Wah, he very han-sum, leh! Next time, you come over…Hey, Saffy! Why you push me? Where are we going? Aiyoh, why you so strong, one? Ay…”
            Saffy slammed the door shut on Sharyn. And when her best friend rang the doorbell again – “Ay, my handbag!” – she called security downstairs to report a potential burglar.
            “We’re never inviting her again!” she told Amanda.

            “I’ve never understood how you two were ever friends in the first place,” Amanda said.

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