In the life section today the first of a promised regular column by a plastic surgeon by the name of Woffles Wu. In the tag the man stated a passion for beauty, the arts and life, in that order. Accomplishments included the production of a film titled Singapore Plastic... No! Correction. That was the memoir, Life In Plastic. The film was Singapore Dreaming. Presumably in a number of Asian countries similar material was mainstream in the better class media—Thailand, India, Vietnam. African nouveau riche and Eastern Europe the same. (In Serbia too, if not fledgling Montenegro.) “Sun sets on the Sayonara Syndrome” the inaugural column was headlined. Asians are beautiful, the doctor assured; there was no need to slavishly follow Western ideals. Mankind had been mesmerised by feminine beauty “since eternity.” Beautiful people would always find themselves desirable; it was a social equaliser. In this day of pol. correctness—“infuriating pol. correctness”—there was not enough frank acknowledgement given to underlying prime motivators. “But it is the truth. It is just the way people are.” Beauty was something that could be bought. The headline referenced an old Korean War Brando movie: a native girl in a love match with a GI had become concerned how her features might be received in the States. Marlon the Bomber ace, best buddy of the victim of Asiatic wiles, advised caution. Madame Butt. heartache and ultimate tragedy. Sayonara no more though. (In the doctor’s phrase.) That market in surgery had been superseded. Smoothing Asia’s own classic lines was the new frontier in that line.
NB. Straits Times, life, p. D7.
Singapore was recently named top of the pile by the Economist intelligence unit as the most expensive city in the world.
Singapore, March 2019
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