Saturday, 11 October 2014

Not Just the Pink Stuff

Apart from peculiar menswear, Singapore seems a peculiarly bland - not to mention oppressively humid - place these days. We used to go up on a train from Kuala Lumpur when I was tiny, and I have memories of a more vivid place. 

Most of the areas that have been left low-rise are now, like tourist areas the world over, infested with eating establishments that advertise their wares with badly coloured photographs.

Mind you, there have been some lovely restorations - notably the huge Fullerton Hotel. The whole precinct it sits nearby is also beautiful, with many solid old colonial buildings, although most, including the Fullerton, have been stripped of much character inside - and anyway the space this little enclave takes up is minimal.

All in all, I found it hard not to think of the joke about the banker and the fisherman when reading this:

But I only know the place slightly, having never been there except in transit. Like everywhere, I'm sure it reveals more riches to those who care to look more closely. Even in the space of this last brief visit, I spotted one or two little signs of strangeness. Here is an example:

Here's another (it's a women's clothes shop, not a stockist of incontinence goods):

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