In search of the real Shanghai
I know the Mandarin for three English words: “Hello”, “Thanks” and “Beer”. I have even taught them to my three young boys, explaining that in 10 years anybody who wishes to move and shake on the global stage will need to be fluent in this difficult tongue. Because the red dragon is rising and soon it will roar, or whatever it is that red dragons do.
You've almost certainly seen the signs. A year ago, the Chinese put a man in space (only the Americans and Soviets had managed this before) and last month they hosted their first Formula One grand prix in Shanghai. Preparations for the Beijing Olympics, not until 2008, are said to be nearly complete, and autumn's surprise box office hit is a subtitled martial arts epic called Ying xiong (translated as Hero).
Meanwhile the US and European motor industries are bracing themselves for the results of experiments in hydrogen power for cars, currently being conducted by a man called Yu Zhuoping and his team of 28 PhD-level scientists and 200 students at Shanghai's Tongji university; if they crack it (and let's hope, for all our sakes, they do) we'll be driving something very different in the future.
And talk to any fashion designer and there's only one market worth bothering with at the moment. Earlier this year Giorgio Armani toured Hong Kong, Beijing and Shanghai, staging fashion shows and wooing the local press to support the stores he has opened in those cities. He also announced that he plans about 30 more across the continent.
The fascination is understandable. Here is a country of 1.2bn people - almost a fifth of the planet's total population - which for the past half-century has been closed to the outside world by its communist regime. Now, as China starts to relax its trading laws, it promises a massive new market (and a cheap manufacturing resource) for western brands. Consider the fact that in China there are only 20m cars - about eight per 1,000 people. In the US the figure is 940 per 1,000. Little wonder then that western carmakers are queuing up to invest: this summer General Motors announced it would be doubling its capacity in China to 1.3m vehicles a year and spending $13bn; VW said it would invest around $6bn and Ford $1.3bn.
The thinking in the automotive market, and in others too, is that the Chinese are ready for a commercial invasion because they have a shortage of brands themselves. In a survey (Synovate survey, published by Media Magazine, July 2004), Japan's Sony was ranked first among the top 1,000 most recognised brands in more than seven Asian markets. Ranked second was Nokia, the Finnish mobile phone company which chose Shanghai as the backdrop for the launch of its new models earlier this month.
One notable exception is the fashion company Shanghai Tang, China's answer to Ralph Lauren, which last weekend staged one of the biggest fashion shows the Chinese mainland has seen, in its namesake city. Held in the gardens of the Xijiao State Guest house, where visiting international dignitaries are put up, the catwalk was covered by a huge Mongolian tent. The Autumn/Winter 2004 collection, entitled “Nomads of China”, features the company's signature combination of old-China's vibrant colours, quality fabrics and embroidery, plus 21st century functionality. And off the catwalk, China's glamorati came out to play: as well as socialites and celebrities from the world of entertainment, guests also included Liu Xiang, the 110m hurdler (and the first Chinese to win a gold medal in a track and field event in Olympic history), and China's David Beckham, striker
Often you find a discrepancy between expectation and reality but Shanghai does not disappoint. A 21st century concrete, glass and steel metropolis is growing up through the teeming low-rise, low- tech houses and shops and warehouses of this former colonial port. Here you will find the highest place in the world to get a drink - the Cloud 9 bar on the 87th floor of the Grand Hyatt Hotel. Down below you will find extensive use of bamboo scaffolding.
Between the super-modern and the barely standing, the city's grand past is still in evidence, most notably on the Bund, which runs along the west bank of the Huangpu river. An essential visit is to the old Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation Limited (HSBC) building, which has now been restored to its glory-days. Less salubrious but more fun, is the famous Peace Hotel round the corner, where a jazz band of ancients wheeze their way through a nightly set, perched precariously on stage in the faded grandeur of this 1930s stained-glass and marble landmark.
This was the Shanghai I'd hoped to find - a city of opium dens and decadence. I'd expected louche places such as the Black Cat nightclub - described by Andre Malraux in his classic novel of the doomed 1927 communist uprising, La Condition humaine - where the jazz provided “frenzied intoxication” and the clientele included “Chinese women sheathed in worked silk, Russians and half-castes... businessmen faced with bankruptcy proceedings, dancing-girls and harlots.” But such evocative haunts are a rarity. In fact, the Peace Hotel is about to be redeveloped.
The new Shanghai is all about change. Everywhere you go there are building sites and round the corner from the antique jazz band at Three on the Bund is a fashionable roof terrace bar where western pop blares out of speakers and magnums of Champagne Mumm are kept on ice. At night, trendy Chinese and Europeans gather here to take in the view of the futuristic skyline over the river as huge barges navigate their way inland. Reflected in the dark waters, like some ghastly beacon of what's to come, is a giant yellow neon “M”. The pearl of the east embracing the Golden Arches of the west.
Downstairs at Three on the Bund is an enormous designer emporium. This is a seven-floor renovation of a grand old building which now houses imposing Armani and Emporio Armani stores, as well as retailing Anne Demeulemeester, Bottega Veneta, Costume National, CP Company, Marni, Stone Island, Yohji Yamamoto, Y's, and Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche. Designer boutiques spread contagiously across the city. There is a mall called Shanghai Times Square, which includes Marina Rinaldi, Ferragamo and Gucci stores. At Plaza 66, another mall, shoppers can find Cartier and Hermes, and from last month, China's biggest luxury brand store: Louis Vuitton. With the notable exception of Shanghai Tang, there seem to be no indigenous fashion names.
I meet Eddy Koh, Singapore-based publisher of Men's Folio and Wow magazine, and ask him where all the Chinese fashion designers are. He explains that while you may see an actress like Zhang Ziyi (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) wear the traditional fitted qipao sleeveless silk dress to western events such as the Cannes film festival, this is done as a statement. “Over here she wouldn't wear it: the Chinese won't wear ethnic costume to a party, they'll wear Dior.”
Chinese designers, according to Koh, are in a Catch 22: to make an impact abroad they need a clear ethnic look, like the Japanese designers of the 1980s, and yet at home this will not sell. “If anything, if they want to be a success here they have to present a contemporary western look. It is almost as though they have to go overseas, make their name and then come back as, say, a New York designer - that is what has happened to Shanghai Tang.”
The label that hosted last week's spectacular fashion show was founded by flamboyant Hong Kong businessman David Tang in 1994, then sold a majority stake to the luxury goods giant Richemont in 1998. It is Richemont, the Swiss group that owns Cartier and Dunhill, that has said it will build Shanghai Tang into the first global Chinese luxury brand. “China has lost its cultural heritage over the past 50 years,” explains Koh. “After the communists took over we have not had much to shout about in the way of Chinese culture. If anything the young Chinese designers need to take some time to re-learn what has been lost.”
We are having lunch in the Yong Foo Elite Club, formerly the British Consulate and before that the Consulate of the Soviet Union, Germany and Vietnam. The decor includes a Ming Dynasty bed, blue silk floral print wallpaper, art deco chandeliers, suede- covered furniture and silver platters. If I'm not very much mistaken, there even appears to be an opium bed in the garden set under an ancient magnolia tree. It is exactly what I imagined I'd find in Shanghai - a colonial exoticism, mysterious, romantic and luxurious. I fantasise that the British Consul lived here in elegant indolence, getting out of bed (either Ming or opium) at 3pm for the first drink of the day, then sending a few telegrams to Whitehall before dressing for dinner and a visit to Malraux's Black Cat nightclub.
Koh is amused. “Under the communists everything became egalitarian so we lost the idea of luxury. The new Shanghai is being made not by the Chinese here in China, but by those who left for Taiwan and Hong Kong and are now coming back. All the top restaurants and new places are being opened by these people.” The Yong Foo Elite Club is no exception. It turns out that though we are indeed dining in the former British Consulate, it didn't look anything like this in the service of Her Majesty's Government, when by all accounts it was allowed to slip into disrepair. The current splendour is the work of a Chinese businessman who bought the place three years ago and has hunted out the eclectic antique contents from all over the place. The cutlery is 1970s Gucci and the art deco silk wallpaper is in fact new, from Paris. Along with China's master chef, Ding Yong Qiang, the Yong Foo also employs the services of Yvan Collet, with his very non-Chinese two Michelin stars.
The longer I spend in Shanghai, the more I understand what Koh means. What we imagine to be Chinese culture - the ideas we have gleaned from books and films - is something that has pretty much disappeared. Shanghai is really a city of fakes. There is even a fake flea market, built to look like an old Chinese pagoda-like structure, where you can, of course, buy fake designer watches and Louis Vuitton bags. But also on sale are fake Chinese artefacts - aged jade statues, vases and even replica communist-era knick- knacks.
I go for dinner with Richard, an Australian journalist who lives in Singapore, and his friend Christina, who is Hong Kong Chinese and works in advertising. We take a cab to Xintiandi, an area of two city blocks in the French Concession district, a place first developed during the 1920s. Now owned by a developer from Hong Kong, Xintiandi has been re-imagined by the New York-based architects Wood Zapata, who have kept the old buildings but filled them with shops and bars and restaurants. There's even a Starbucks. We eat at a restaurant that would not look out of place in Manhattan - all sparkling crystals and black lacquered woodwork. I ask for Chinese food and am told sorry, they don't really do it - it's more fusion here.
I try out Koh's theory about Chinese designers. “Sure, that's all true,” says Richard, “but one of the other reasons there are no Chinese men's wear designers is that they can't compete with the tailors. I get my suits tailor-made for S$700-800, Which is about ￡250, and my shirts for S$70, about ￡25 - how are you going to compete with that? That's what you get when you can literally throw humanity at something.”
” People will buy western brands, though,” says Christina. “I won't go shopping on a Saturday in Hong Kong any more because the shops are so full of those who have travelled from the mainland. They save up and then make two or three trips a year especially to go spending at places like Louis Vuitton and Gucci.” This is all the more ironic when you consider that increasingly the western garments Chinese consumers are buying are actually made in China.
Why will they buy western brands and not Chinese? “There aren't really Chinese brands,” says Richard. “They don't really understand the concept of a brand. The Chinese are a nation of traders - they look to the short term. They're not yet willing to invest the money or the time and effort it takes to build a brand. They want a quick return, and their outlook is local.”
He then challenges me to name a Chinese brand, and apart from Shanghai Tang and The Mandarin Oriental hotel group, I fail miserably. Every Asian brand I can think of is Singaporean (the airline), or Japanese (the car manufacturers) or Korean (the electrical goods firms). In fact it turns out that even The Mandarin Oriental is owned by Jardine Matheson, a company of Scottish origin that began trading in Asia in the 1830s.
The following day I check out a traditional Shanghai tailor who specialises in making the qipao dresses that Chinese movie stars won't wear at home. The cost of one of these silk or satin numbers is about RMB1,000-4,000 (￡70-￡270), a fraction of what a dress from Dolce Gabbana or Versace would cost. But the prices in China for big-name fashion brands are the same as they are in the west: a YSL long white plunge-necked dress which costs ￡1,850 in London retails for HK$25,450, a straight conversion. Similarly, a black Paul Smith London men's suit is about ￡600 in the UK and the same price in Shanghai at about RMB9,000.
That evening I attend the party held by Nokia, the Finnish mobile phone company. They've chosen Shanghai for the global launch of a new range. The venue, the blandly named Shanghai Exhibition Centre, turns out to be an incredibly grand palatial Soviet-style affair built in the late 1950s to commemorate the communist revolution.
Tonight the place is packed with the Chinese demimonde and yes, the clothes are western, not a qipao in sight. The Chinese models who mingle in the crowd seem to have been genetically westernised too - or fed on a diet of steak and vitamins. Rather than the diminutive lovelies I'd expected, these are six-footers and above. Later I am told that there is one village in the north which breeds giant females and supplies most of the Chinese women you find on the catwalks.
The new phones turn out to be handsome things - all art-deco gloss black and white with chrome geometrics and flashes of red. One looks like a ladies' lipstick case and features a display which, when not in use, doubles as a mirror. Thrusting 1920s futurist- style statues wear the phones as jewellery, while the statuesque live beauties pose with the shiny gadgets in their western-style evening gowns, no doubt by Dior or Gucci. A Nokia designer explains that they chose Shanghai for the launch because its decadent past complements the art deco-inspired look of the new line and because it is a place where old and new co-exist so dramatically.
The next day on the way to the airport, we pick our way through thousands of cyclists and I remember what Richard, the Australian journalist said about “throwing humanity” at situations. China's first world expansion is being fuelled by third world methods - raw, cheap manpower. They can build faster, make cheaper and consume 寻找真实的上海 ( 下 )
中国时尚设计师哪儿去了？
我与《 Men ' s Folio 》和《 Wow 》杂志的新加坡出版商 Eddy Koh 会晤，并问他中国时尚设计师都去哪儿了。他解释说，虽然你可以在戛纳电影节等西方大型活动中看见，章子怡（《卧虎藏龙》）等女演员身着传统的紧身无袖丝绸旗袍，但这样做只是一种声明。“在这儿她是不会穿的：中国人不会穿民族服装去参加聚会，他们会穿迪奥 (Dior) 。”
据 Koh 先生说，中国设计师处在 22 条军规 (Catch 22) 那样的境地：为了在国外造成影响，他们需要一个鲜明的民族形象，就像上世纪 80 年代的日本设计师一样，但在国内这没人会接受。“相反，如果他们想在国内取得成功，就得展现出当代西方的形象。这就好像是，他们必须出国、出名，然后以比如纽约设计师的身份回来――上海滩就是这样。”
上周举办壮观时装展的“上海滩”品牌由气派十足的香港商人邓永锵 (David Tang) 于 1994 年创立，接着于 1998 年将多数股份出售给奢侈品巨头 Richemont 。 Richemont 这家瑞士集团拥有 Cartier 和登喜路 (Dunhill) ，就是该集团表示，要将上海滩打造成第一个全球性中国奢侈品品牌。“过去 50 年里，中国已丧失了自己的文化传统，” Koh 先生解释说，“后，中国文化已没有什么值得炫耀的了。如果有什么的话，年轻的中国设计师有必要花些时间重新学习已经丢失的东西。”
我们在雍福会 (Yong Foo Elite club) 用午餐，此处以前是英国领事馆，再之前是苏联、德国和越南的领事馆。装饰包括一张明式卧床、蓝色丝绸印花墙纸、装饰艺术的吊灯、山羊皮贴面家具和一些大银盘。如果我不是错得离谱的话，花园里甚至像有一张鸦片床，在一棵白玉兰古树下。它正是我想象中会在上海找到的东西――一种殖民地的异国情调，神秘、浪漫而又奢华。我想象，从前的英国领事住在这里，带着一种优雅的慵懒，在下午 3 点从床上（明式床或是鸦片床）起身，喝当天第一杯饮料，再给白厅发几份电报，然后穿上衣服吃晚饭，接着去拜访马尔罗的黑猫夜总会。
Koh 笑了。“，一切都是平等的，所以我们失去了奢侈的念头。正在营造新上海的，不是这里的中国人，而是那些当年离开大陆去台湾和香港，现在又回来的人。所有顶级餐厅和新场所都是这些人开的。”雍福会也不例外。结果就是，虽然我们确实在一个原是英国领事馆的地方用餐，但据大家说，在它为英国女皇陛下的政府效力时，它完全不是现在这个模样，而是破败失修、无人过问。现在的华丽景象是一位中国商人的杰作，他在三年前买下这块地方，从上海各地精心搜罗了各种古董。餐具是上世纪 70 年代的古奇，装饰艺术的丝绸墙纸实际上是来自巴黎的新品。除了中国的主厨丁永强，雍福会还雇佣了 Michelin 厨师伊万?科莱 (Yvan Collet) ，他是中国所没有的 Michelin 两星厨师。
我在上海呆的时间越长，就更能理解 Koh 的意思。我们想象中的、从书本和电影中积累的中国文化的概念，是一种在很大程度上已经消失的事物。上海真是个假货之城。这里甚至有个假货跳蚤市场，这幢建筑造得像古老的中国宝塔。在这里，你自然可以买到假冒的设计师品牌手表和路易威登皮包。廉价出售的还有中国艺术赝品――年代久远的玉雕像、花瓶，甚至还有伪造的共产主义时期的小摆设。
中国品牌哪去了？
我和生活在新加坡的澳大利亚记者理查德 (Richard) 一起去用晚餐，同行的还有他的朋友克里斯蒂娜 (Christina) ，她是一位从事广告业的香港人。我们乘出租车到新天地，这个地方以前是法租界的两个街区，最初在上世纪 20 年代开发。新天地归香港的一个开发商拥有，由总部在纽约的建筑师事务所 Wood Zapata 重新设想构建。这家事务所保留了那些老式建筑，但把这些建筑变成了商店、酒吧和餐馆。这里甚至有家星巴克 (Starbucks) 。我们吃饭的那家餐厅，如果放在曼哈顿也不会显得落伍，那里全是闪闪发光的水晶制品和黑色漆木制品。我在那里点中国菜，但他们表示抱歉，说他们实际上不做中国菜――这里更多的是各种菜系的融合。
我询问 koh 有关中国设计师的理论是否正确。“没错，完全正确，”理查德说，“但这里之所以没有中国男装设计师，还有其他一些原因，其中一个是，他们无法与裁缝竞争。我在裁缝那里定制一套西装花了 700 至 800 新元，大致相当于 250 英镑。另外衬衫花了 70 新元，大约 25 英镑――你怎么能与这样的价格竞争？在劳动力非常便宜的时候，是很难与其竞争了。”
“但是，人们会买西方的牌子，”克里斯蒂娜说道，“在香港，我再也不会在周六上街购物了，因为商店里全是从大陆去旅游的人。他们把钱攒起来，然后特意每年进行两三次旅行，把钱花在路易威登和古奇等东西上面。”当你认识到，中国消费者正在购买的西方服装，实际上越来越多是由中国制造的，这就显得更有讽刺意味。
他们为何购买西方品牌而非中国品牌？“没有真正意义上的中国品牌，”理查德说，“它们并不真正理解品牌的概念。中国是一个商人民族――他们着眼于短期。他们不愿投入建立一个品牌所需的金钱、时间和力气。他们想要快速回报，因此他们的前景在本地。”
然后他给我出了个难题，让我说出一个除了上海滩和东方文华大酒店集团 (The Mandarin Oriental) 之外的中国品牌。很遗憾，我说不出来。我所能想到的所有亚洲品牌都是新加坡（航空公司）、日本（汽车制造商），或韩国（电气产品公司）的。事实上，最后我发现，就连东方文华也属于怡和集团 (Jardine Matheson) ，那是一家源自苏格兰的公司， 19 世纪 30 年代才开始在亚洲开展贸易。
便宜与奢华
第二天，我去拜访一位传统的上海裁缝，这位裁缝专门制作那些中国影星不会在家穿的旗袍。一件这样的绸缎服装价格在 1000 到 4000 元人民币（合 70 至 270 英镑），这只是一件 Dolce Gabbana 或范思哲 (Versace) 品牌服装价格的零头。在中国，名牌时装品牌的价格和它们在西方的价格一样：一件圣罗兰 (YSL) 长袖白色 V 领女装在伦敦售价 1850 英镑，在中国售价为 2.545 万港元，按汇率直接折算。类似的，一件黑色 Paul Smith London 男装在英国的售价约 600 英镑，在上海的售价是等值的 9000 元人民币左右。
晚上我出席了芬兰移动电话公司诺基亚举行的晚会。诺基亚选择在上海进行一个新手机系列的全球发布活动。活动地点的名字很平淡，叫上海展览中心，但这幢苏联风格的建筑富丽堂皇得惊人，于上世纪 50 年代末为纪念共产主义革命而建。
当晚活动现场全是中国交际场上的女子，没错，衣服全是西式的，放眼望去没有一件旗袍。混杂在人群中的中国模特似乎从基因上就是西化的，或者是吃牛排和维他命长大的。这些模特远不是我期望的那种娇小的美女，她们都有 6 英尺高，或者更高。后来我得知，在北方有个村庄出来的全是高高大大的女子，你在 T 形台上看到的多数中国女子都是从那里来的。
新手机确实很漂亮：都显示了装饰艺术，黑白色、外观光亮，有着铬黄色几何图形，闪烁着红光。有一款看上去像女士用的唇膏盒，有一个显示屏，手机不用时可折叠成一面镜子。上世纪 20 年代盛气逼人的未来主义雕像把这些电话当首饰佩戴，而仪态如雕塑般优雅的真人美女摆着各种姿势，手机在她们的西式晚礼服上（无疑是迪奥或古奇的）闪闪发光。一位诺基亚设计师解释说，他们之所以选择在上海开发布会，原因是上海纸醉金迷的过去与新型手机的装饰艺术外观互相映衬，还因为这个地方新旧共存如此显著。
第二天，在去机场的路上，我们的车在成千上万骑自行车的人中穿行。我想起了澳大利亚记者理查德所说的，劳动力的便宜。中国的首次世界扩张正由第三世界的方式来推动――原始、廉价的人力。他们能比今天世界上任何一个国家都更快地建设，更便宜地制造，更出色地消费。我不知道这一切将把他们带往何方，但新与旧、贫穷与富有、传统与现代之间的分化确实非常引人注目。
我们来到了一个环形路口。
一边是马赛拉蒂 (Maserati) 的展厅，另一边是法拉利 (Ferrari) 的展厅。自行车大军没有多看一眼就蜂拥而过。或许到明年，他们将开上氢动力汽车？或许我们都会开上。
