Oui, le fashun, c'est magnifreek!

Now, let's get this straight. I am no fashion guru. I maintain a healthy disrespect for those who regularly consume Vogue like it's some kind of religious tome to live one's life by. I can't imagine anything more abhorrent than the idea of choosing my wardrobe based purely on this season's colours and styles, or spending $300 on a pair of shoes. Think of the amount of chocolate that would be, for God's sake! Then of course, most fashionistas would simply die if they even sniffed the aroma of chocolate.

Apart from an enduring love affair with shoes and handbags, I rarely make a foray into the fashion world, other than to buy essentials and update my wardrobe with more black... because, well, black is never out of fashion, dahling. I am, in a word, Tim Gunn's nemesis.

So, having admitted this, let me also say I am perfectly well aware that I have absolutely no right whatsoever to diss other people's fashion sense, or mock them. Having said that, Taiwan (and Asia in general) does churn out some particularly spectacular fashion that is, in my opinion, blogworthy:

The mock-punk phenomenon

Someone, somewhere, decided that punk was no longer anti-establishment, and started mass-producing punk-inspired EVERYTHING. Aspiring 'individuals', in an attempt to look unique (like everyone else), took this to heart. They bought fake-ripped t-shirts and pre-aged jeans and started to spike their hair and wear heavy black eyeliner, because all their mates said they'd look better that way. Nowhere adopted this pseudo-punk ethos more enthusiastically than Asia, where they've managed to make punk uber-kitsch, and have even created - God help us all - a Punk Hello Kitty. Truly, if Sid Vicious was going to turn in his grave, it would be now.

Taiwanese youths have, in their own attempt at originality, resorted to wearing punk-rock style t-shirts (complete with flaming skulls, and or pins, rips and random tartan frills) which have inexplicibly incomprehensible English slogans emblazoned on the front. In much the same way that having little Chinese symbols tatooed above one's butt-crack does not make a non-Chinese speaker instantaneously spiritual, the same applies to aforementioned slogans - THEY ARE NOT A SIGN THAT YOU ARE COOL. They usually have something random printed, like "banana fishes punk rocker". To compound the randomness of it all - as if the choice is made entirely by playing 'Eeenymeenymineymo' with a dictionary - the spelling is also equally horrible, and the slogan thus reads: "benona fashes punck rokar".

Inappropriate English slogans

In a similar vein to the above heinous fashion crimes, Taiwan also has a fair share of distinctly inappropriate slogans on both clothes and accessories. Probably the worst offenders are the t-shirts worn by pre-pubescents with bright pink sparkles proclaiming the wearer to be a "sexy babe" or "I'm too sexy for this t-shirt". I should certianly hope that that is categorically untrue, for you are a mere 6 years old, and should know nothing about what constitutes 'sexy'. A close second comes the "I'm f***ing gorgeous","I'm f***ing cool" t-shirts or the "F*** You" t-shirts, worn, almost ubiquitously by giggling teens and eye-lash fluttering shop babes. No, you are not f***ing cool, how dare you abuse our slang vernacular just to make your cheap n' nasty t-shirt look better, and nor would anyone this side of sane want to f*** you, you idiot. And adding a '?' or a '!' to the statement does nothing except make you look confused, either.

Randomized slogans which have no bearing on the actual product worn

Again, another sloganisation of society, in which English, and worse, French, is used as some form of decoration, and actually serves no fashionable purpose. Worse still, barely anyone here speaks bloody French (even less so that the Brits, and they have the excuse of just being stubborn in retaliation of the fact the French hate the Brits speaking French even more that they hate them speaking English). French is everywhere - I kid you not... T-shirts and bags are all sloganned up with signs such as "Oui, je suis un petit framboise" and "Chat Mignon says I Love You". Now, hold on...since when did French become cool? Oh, wait... the French have ALWAYS been cool (unless you are in fact, a Brit, then you have an envious hatred of their coolness and refuse to admit they are even the teensiest bit cool). Durrr.

However, the point is, barely anyone understands the slogan, and even fewer could point out what it means (and inevitably correct it, for it will be utterly nonsensical) - therefore you look cool. Again, see the point about Chinese tatoos above (and Thai, and any language other than the ones you know and speak fluently). They probably mean nothing of any sense in Chinese, and if they do, then you are probably claiming it means "Peace" or "Love" or "Serenity", when in actual fact it means "My farts stink", or "Watch out, I'm a bit of a whore". The same applies to "I am not a plastic bag" slogans ...wait for it... on plastic bags. Well, I'm seeing the irony, but I'm not laughing. Sorry.

Flipflops and wifebeater vests

On a departure from the slogan issue, I must point out the Taiwanese fashion disaster that is the flipflop/wifebeater vest ensemble. Closely resembling a reject from Britney's School for Trailer Trash, the slighty sweat-stained grubby vest and shower sandal combo is usually sported by Taiwanese men in search of beer and hot young ladies to fawn over them. In a massive one-fingered salute to feminism, these two essentials of Taiwanese life can be found in almost every bar in the damn country. Not content with showing us their beer guts and unfortunately large man-boobs (it seems that over-sized mammary glands are a preserve of the males in this country) whilst relaxing in the local bar, they also frequent the 7Eleven and Carrefour. It would appear there is no escape... they're breeding and taking over the country. It's like 'The Day of the Triffids', except with Nike flipflops and boozy, unwashed men.

The Betelnut Beauties

Ahhhh the ironies - betelnuts - popular for their mild buzz and for the young 'beauties' who sell them. Invariably, young, female, and scantily clad - the Betelnut Beauties (actual physical attractiveness optional) attract the truckers along the highways hoping to pass a few hours of driving with a brief letch and a subsequent opportunity to chew on something that tastes vile, turns the mouth red, creates massive blobs of oozing red spittle which they then deposit in little plasic cups and causes mouth cancer. Nice. Nothing in the world prepares you for the sight of fresh betelnut spittle - a massive sinuous blob of what appears to be the remnants of someone's lung, splattered on the side of the road. And NOTHING in the world prepares you for the first glimpse of betelnut mouth. The red ringed lips, blackened - and what appear to be almost disintegrating - teeth. Spit stains on the corners of the mouth... A real beauty, I'm sure you agree.

Leonine hair (Ginger, natch)

Admittedly, the leonine hair phenomenon is waaay waaaay more popular in Japan, but, it does make its way over here, especially amongst the young, hip pop star fraternity. The main fashion concerns the actual hairstyle - part mullet, part 70's glam rock - with spikyness and extraordinarily gravity defying crowns. Surely the CFC's must be creating some kind of hole in the ozone above Asia? Combined with the inexplicable desire for bright ginger hair, the result looks magnificently like an extra from 'The Lion King' musical.

Of course, I should point out that there is NOTHING wrong with being ginger. The desire to be ginger, though, is surely inexplicable. Why actively choose to colour one's hair the same as Charles Kennedy? Or worse, Lulu? It can only lead to public humiliation at the hands of less considerate people... everyone knows that Charles Kennedy didn't resign from his role as leader of the LibDems 'cos he was an alcoholic - far too convenient an excuse, considering he's a Scot - it was purely down to anti-ginger sentiment in the UK government. Look at the facts - have they ever had a ginger Prime Minister? No. There you go. It was gingerism, so it was.