"Jack darling, where on earth have you been? The Underwear Revolution is nigh!" Lily's voice resembles a singing sword as I listen to her through my Blackberry. I'm nursing a mimosa on the outdoor deck at M on the Bund, taking in a rare pollution-free view of the Pudong skyline.
"Where have I been? Where have you been? I thought you were staying at the Grand Hyatt. I've been here for days and not a peep out of you," I say with annoyance.
"Oh darling, Lulu and I decided to bunk at the Peace Hotel, so I could get some inspiration from the ghosts of the Gang of Four," she says cryptically. "My lingerie revue is inspired by the classic Cultural Revolution ballet, "The Red Women's Detachment" and we've been rehearsing for days! I do hope you will be there on Tuesday. So many people are flying in for this...Suzy Menkes, Paris Hilton, Bruce LaBruce..."
"Sounds like a party, for sure," I say as I take a long gulp of my mimosa. Cultural Revolution? Has she gone off the deep end? "It sounds very experimental, Lily....but at the same time, something that you might expect to turn up during the Madonna tour. Where will it be held?"
"Outdoors in front of the Pearl of the Orient Tower, not far from your hotel," Lily chirps. "Tuesday at 3pm....I better hang up now - Comrade Zhou Enlai just walked in and we're about to do a dress rehearsal. Lulu is the ultimate Communist sex bomb in her red Le Mystere bra and panties!"
"Well, I don't doubt that," I say drily. "And I'm off to meet your friend Diane Pernet at Madame Mao's Dowry for a bit of shopping. Good luck with your...panty raid."
I click off, down my drink and head down to the street, plunging into the chaotic Shanghai traffic.
When I arrive at the small shop on Hengshan Lu, I am greeted by a surreal sight. A tall woman draped entirely in black, with towering hair topped with a mantilla, and in black sunglasses, is standing near the middle of the store, scrutinizing a row of Chairman Mao piggy banks that sit sentry on a display case. A gaggle of Chinese women shopkeepers, half her size, are vying for attention as they surround her, holding up various Communist tchotchkes for her appraisal.
"You must be Diane," I say, as I extend my hand. "I'm Lily's friend, Jack."
"Jack! What a pleasure to meet you," she says warmly. "I've been a fan of your articles in Albanian Vogue for years. Your report on Croatian honky-tonks was hilarious! Who knew Loretta Lynn's music had such a far-flung fan base?"
"Well, thank you," I tell her as one of the shopkeepers thrusts a set of Red star coasters in my face. "And I'm a great admirer of your blog...it certainly keeps me abreast of what's going on around the world. I had no idea that fashion weeks were held in Romania, Madagascar, Samoa, and Hoboken."
"Oh Jack, I found a story idea for you here...you're the perfect person to write it. It's a line of Marxist-Leninist underwear, ironically made in the US." Diane directs me toward a section of the store where Chinese brand lingerie hangs near various styles of men's underwear. A brand called Go Softwear features seemingly ironic, old-school Soviet Union motifs.
"These look like they'd be perfect for Lily's Communist fashion ballet, or whatever that PR scheme is that she's cooked up," I inform Diane. "We should go together....I'm sure it will be very amusing."
"Oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world!" Diane replies. "But enough Socialist shopping for today....let's go check out the new Dior Homme boutique in Xiantiandi."
