The Freaky Fashionista from Foshan

It was the last day of the Tokyo Olympic Games 2021, my friend Josh invited me to his place for a closing ceremony watch house party, but by the time I got there it was the beginning of the after party. His place looked like an ad campaign from United Colors of Benetton. I wasn’t sure if Josh wanted to provoke his Chinese neighbors or if the neighbors had asked to be provoked. I’m not exaggerating, this is what I saw when I entered Josh’s apartment: a white guy in extremely tight colorful clothes cuddling with a black guy who was topless, wore a pair of hot pink Lululemon shorts and purple Nike shoes. For a second, I thought, I must have missed the memo. Before I could see more, Josh came and gave me a hug, “finally,” he said, “what took you so long?” I gave him the bottle I brought for the party, “just picked it up from Charles de Gaulle,” I said. “Thanks bro,” he laughed.

All of a sudden, a girl grabbed the bottle from Josh, “I love Grey Goose,” she said. She was Chinese, had dirty blonde hair, and wore something similar to what looked like Angelina Jolie’s Tomb Raider’s Halloween costume. She opened the bottle, flipped all the used shot glasses on the counter, and poured vodka in them. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, and Josh saw me ogling at her like a desperate high school kid. “Don’t even think about it,” Josh shook his head. “Why? Does she have a boyfriend?” I said. “No,” he raised his eyebrows, “but dude, she’s out of your league,” he tapped my shoulders.

I should’ve listened to Josh, but I didn’t, and now I’m writing this story.

I walked up to her, and said, “I’d like to photograph you.” She passed me a shot glass, “is that a pickup line?” she said. I laughed, “actually, I’m shooting a new series, and I think you’ll be the perfect model,” I said. She played with her hair, “I don’t know about that,” she said, and took a shot of my Grey Goose. “How about I take you out for dinner and we can talk about the idea I have,” I said. “Let me think about it,” she said. So, I pulled out my phone from my back pocket and showed her some of my recent work. Her eyes lit up. We exchanged our WeChat IDs and planned to meet on the weekend.

On Saturday evening, I waited for her outside Coco Park metro station, and I was nervous. Since starting this dating experiment six months ago, I have learned a lot about myself, but whenever I meet a girl who is out of my league, I get super nervous. She came out the exit area, and all eyes were on her. She wore a navy blue silk qipao with pink floral patterns.

Qipao (also called Cheongsam) is a body-hugging dress with the skirt slit partway up the side, it was modernized by Chinese socialites and upper-class women in the 1920s and 1930s. I have traveled to over 40 countries, but this is the only traditional dress that drives me wild. How the hell did she know, I thought.

But when she came down the stairs and walked towards me, my nervousness turned into the worst form of anxiety. She wore high heels, looked down at me, and said, “where are my flowers?”

I panicked, “um, I didn’t know which ones you liked,” I said. “You know it’s Chinese valentine’s day today,” she said. Fuck me, I thought, “well, I can get you some now,” I said. “Forget it, you already ruined it,” she said, and walked away. These fucking Chinese valentine’s days are gonna ruin my love life, I thought, and walked behind her.

China has a problem (no, not the one you’re thinking about.) If you believe celebrating one Valentine's Day is adequate, count yourself either fortunate or unfortunate. Chinese traditionally celebrate six Chinese Valentine's Days a year. And that Saturday was the Qixi Festival, the most romantic of traditional Chinese festivals. “How the hell do people keep track of all these stupid festivals?” I said. She turned around and stared at me, “no wonder you’re single,” she said, and continued walking. I sped up and caught up to her, “hold on a sec,” I said, “what can I do to make it up to you?” She paused and looked at me for a few seconds, wrapped her arm around mine, and said, “well, I guess we can go shopping.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. It wasn’t like we were going grocery shopping, the only stores I could see around were Burberry, Celine, and Louis Vuitton. The last one reminded me of when I became a fake boyfriend in China. “Why don’t we go have dinner first,” I said. “No, I’m not that hungry, let’s go here,” she dragged me into Burberry, and I already knew it was a bad idea. In the next ten minutes, she picked a handbag and a pair of sunglasses, brought it to the counter, and smiled at me. I curled my lips. “Wǒ zhàngfū huì wèi cǐ fùchū dàijià” (my husband will pay for that,) she told the sales person, who looked at me and smiled. “I don’t speak Chinese,” I said. She walked towards me, and her heels clacked on the hardwood floors, it sounded like a scene from Quentin Tarantino’s film Kill Bill. “Don’t embarrass me,” she said. “You’re out of your fucking mind,” I said. “Josh said you have a good job,” she put her hands on her waist, “don’t you wanna date me?” she said. I guess that’s what Josh meant when he said she was out of my league, I thought.

You must be wondering if I shat my pants, I didn’t, because something miraculous happened. In that surreal moment, Don’t Cha song by Pussycat Dolls played in the store:

"Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me / Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me."

What are the chances, I thought. Thank you to the Pussycat Dolls for awakening something inside of me. “Let’s see, what we have here,” I said, took my date back to the counter, and put the sunglasses on her face. I then looked at her for a few seconds as if I was an agent looking for China’s Next Top Model. “You look ridiculous,” I laughed, “you should just shop at Walmart,” I said. She put the merchandise back on the counter, turned towards me, and put her hands on her waist, “do you know who I am?” she looked into my eyes. I stood still. “I’m the fashionista from Foshan, with 150k followers on TikTok, and you can never have me.” For real? I thought.

My initial plan was to walk out the store, get a cab, and run. But I thought, I can’t let this opportunity go. “I knew you looked familiar,” I lied, because I don’t even have the TikTok app on my phone. At that point, I had nothing to lose, or at least that’s what I thought. “Would you be open to do a boudoir shoot with me?” I said, “of course I’ll pay for the clothes for the shoot, and who knows, we might double your followers in one weekend,” I said. She looked into my eyes for a second, looked away, and looked back at me with a big smile on her face, the only thing that worried me were the emotions in her eyes or lack thereof, but I ignored the signs. “I have a better idea,” she said, and we walked out of the Burberry store.

What I’m about to write is the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.

She took me to a local lingerie store, “these are copies of Victoria’s Secret designs, and the best part is that their prices are super cheap,” she said. “That’s perfect,” I said. We picked a few satin slips, and went to the fitting room area. I sat on the couch that was placed in front of the change rooms, she went into one of the rooms, and one by one she modeled the slips for me. Not bad for a first date, I thought.

“Can you do me a favor?” she said, “get me this in large,” she threw a hot turquoise blue slip from under the curtains of her change room. I went outside, got the right size, and brought it to her, “here,” I said. She opened the curtain halfway, grabbed my hand, and pulled me inside. Freaky, I thought, but I loved it. She put her arms around me and kissed me on my lips, “I wanted to do this since I saw you at Josh’s place,” she said. “Me too,” I kissed her back. She took off her black satin slip, kissed me again, and passed me the large turquoise blue slip, “put this on,” she said. “Hell no,” I said. “C’mon, it’s one of my fantasies,” she picked the smaller size for herself, “to wear matching lingerie with my boyfriend,” she kissed me again. “It’s weird,” I said. “You do this for me, and I’ll let you photograph me in anything you want,” she said.

In the next few seconds I pictured her in and out of all the hottest lingerie I saw earlier. And then I took my clothes off, “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said. “Let me help you,” she grabbed my clothes from me, placed it on a stool next to her, and started getting dressed. I looked at myself in the mirror while I put on the satin slip, but when I turned to look at her, instead of the hot turquoise blue slip, she stood in her navy blue qipao.

“This is for what you did to me at Burberry,” she said, took my photo with her phone, and walked out with all of my clothes.

What I went through after that could be another blog post, but I’m not sure how interested you would be in reading a follow-up post about the most embarrassing moment of my entire life. Though I would love to hear your thoughts haha. Please let me know in the comments below.