Wan Chai/At the Races

   I schlepped to the Hong Kong Expo at Wan Chai on a Wednesday, which was perhaps too deeply commercial to be of any worth to tourists. The guest speakers, there to expound on matters of Asian investment and infrastructure, would probably have been interesting for those concerned with the scale of such things

   That night, I joined the weekly pilgrimage to the racetrack at Happy Valley. I'm not much of a gambling man in this sense (primarily because I bring others greater fortune than I do myself), but food, beverages and camaraderie are in abundance, and horse riding is better viewed live. The photographs do not clearly connote the scale of the track, but I think they still capture some of its expansiveness

   Besides, it is certainly a setting in which wearing Junya Watanabe Man S/S07 can be considered fitting

Light Up the Night

   Any visitor to Hong Kong's shores will likely have taken in this extravaganza at least once and I did, too, arriving for the 8pm start in front of the Hong Kong Cultural Centre at Tsim Sha Tsui. Unfortunately, I spent the majority of my viewing inwardly laughing at the cod-Nintendo music - and given my fond ownership of various Nintendo soundtracks, that speaks volumes

   The actual thought behind A Symphony of Lights is cogent, I feel - almost every city looks better at night, particularly a gleaming metropolis like Hongkers that offers densely packed, almost foreboding skyscraping by day, but blossoms into luminescent, celebratory flamboyance by night. That the performances are heavy on symbolism speaks to a particularly national and cultural pride, and I certainly like that a city is not afraid to show itself off in such an expressive fashion. But oy, the music...

   Also, for what it's worth, I suspect that it's sponsored by Samsung

Birds/New Friend

   I recently paid a visit to the State-Of-The-Arts Gallery in Central, Hong Kong, where I met this fellow. He was encouraging visitors to unleash their inner animal, rather like the Power Penguin meditation sequence of my favourite film, Fight Club

   Like this man and Fight Club's unnamed Narrator, I suspect that my own animal is avian themed - apposite and appropriate - although a peacock might be a tad obvious. Our sartorial fandom does make us - dare I say - birds of a feather

Post 200: Mode Parade HK

   At the time of writing, Mode Parade has been Hong Kong-based for seven days. I needed to relocate to a land where I am once again one of the tallest dominant lifeforms

   Actually, I have a plan and a purpose for being here. And all, as they say, will become clear within the coming weeks

   Needless to say, the preceding weeks teemed with activity as I placed a neat bow on my Accra life for the time being and ejected, leaving behind a trail of destroyed automobiles, puzzled cousins, supportive elder relatives and around 5 orders for solid gold signet rings. My acquisitiveness is nothing if not prolific

   Nice things happened to me in the run-up. My family confessed that I would be missed, primarily by the proprietors of the only club I regularly attended, and the city's car mechanics. On my connection from Dubai - which fills its airport with the sorts of travellers that actually make me look attractive by comparison - a kindly Arabian man told me that I looked "like a walking picture," which he eventually translated to "movie star." He'd evidently drawn the same comparison

   I've settled in well enough, though my temporary accommodation reminds me of my university days in a most disdainful fashion. Merely thinking of my 18 - 21 year old selves brings on the megrims quite forcefully. I also have not owned a laptop in a year, my book collection was not welcome on the flights and my phone's inaccurate GPS has led to some misunderstandings with taxi drivers. Usually when I'm crossing the road

   In my favour, there is a bar here that played this classic single by Strawberry Switchblade; karmic proof that whimsical, pretty things will not stray far from my world:

   By the way, Dubai's airport retails Guerlain's fragrance range in its duty free. Vetiver made my hand smell like unappealingly sharp citrus soap for the duration of my changeover (Tom Ford's Grey Vetiver, incidentally, was not much more suitable, though both experiences make me want to try them again in less long haul-centric scenarios), but the pretty sales assistant sold me on one of her two recommendations that she thought of as masculine scent perfection. The loser was the blandly designed, Justin Timberlake-endorsed Play by Givenchy, which dried down from its own citric assault into an unmemorable morass of powdery notes. Conversely, L'Instant de Guerlain Pour Homme Eau Extreme, her initial, immediate suggestion, stayed with me, figuratively and literally, throughout my browsing, and this compellingly mixed, (perhaps too) subtle, heady and strangely delicious EDP has proved pleasingly fortunate of late. Characterised by a number of candied, near-edible notes - patchouli and honey and cocoa, oh my - with a floral middle and a spicy, warm, woody, creamy base, the seduction, rare to say, was instant. To the right persons, I seem almost... edible. And I was seeking something odder, so there you go

   Two bottles, next time