Sex, Surprise, and Videotape: Love Conquers Gall

It's fun to read about fabulous people.  Even when they're fabulously awful.  So I enjoyed Kevin Kwan's Sex and Vanity, which is as lousy with fancy folk as Kwan's first novel, Crazy Rich Asians.  Like Asians, Sex and Vanity is about two soulmates separated by that age-old spoilsport, social class.  Only this time, the couple isn't made up of a middle class academic and an uber upper class heir who's also an academic, but an old money miss and a nouveau riche Romeo (actually, two nouveau riche Romeos -- but who's counting?).  This means that this rom com of manners is, in some ways, even more outrageously luxe than its "crazy" predecessor.  Loosely based on E.M. Forster's A Room With a View, which, former English major or not, I learned only after reading the jacket, it's peppered with Kwan's signature snarky footnotes exposing the characters for their foibles, sometimes gently -- but more often than not with a skewer.  

Lucie Churchill is a bio major at Brown when she meets aspiring architect George Zao in Capri at a lavish wedding.  The daughter of a Chinese, Seattle-born scientist mother and a white, New York Social Register father, Lucie has always been caught between two cultures but favors the white one.  So when she meets George, an idealist and flagrant flouter of convention from Hong Kong with an even more flagrantly flamboyant mother, she finds him gauche.  But also, to her chagrin, irresistible.  Make no mistake; George is plenty wealthy, too, albeit not the right kind of seersucker-sporting, Plymouth Rock rich.  But his penchant for questioning privilege unsettles Lucie.  What's more, Lucie's aversion for George flourishes under the influence of her snooty cousin Charlotte, who attends the wedding as Lucie's chaperone.  Yet despite the emotional wall that she so carefully crafts, a freak accident throws Lucie literally and figuratively into George's arms, forcing her to see him in a new light and hurtling her into a sex, lies, and videotape (okay, drone) situation that ultimately thwarts her from the course she's set for herself. 

Lush with luminous descriptions (even the cover flaunts fuchsia foil foliage), Sex and Vanity is one of those high style stories that makes you want to know and not know how the other half lives.  Kwan is as enamored of the well-heeled as he is amused and disgusted by them.  Lucie is his ambassador, an intelligent, pure-of-heart heroine who is nevertheless a product of her precious trappings.  How she reacts to the obstacles that her family -- and, more to the point, she -- creates is what makes her interesting.  

One last thing.  Don't be fooled by the title.  There isn't all that much sex in this book.  Rather, the phrase "sex and vanity" is something someone says to expose someone else.  

It doesn't get much more Brit lit bit witty -- or, for that matter, Kwan quippy -- than that.

Putting My Love Up on the Shelf: From Canada to Singapore With Detours in Between

That's right, Georgia Satellites, I'm putting what I love up on a shelf.  But then you're probably copacetic with that, as books aren't the same as a V-card.

For some time now, I've been on the hunt for a bookshelf for my craft room.  I wanted something sturdy yet unusual but sadly kept coming up empty.  Well, it turns out that the ideal piece was hiding in my own bedroom!  Unbeknownst to me, a regal relic of a crown molding-adorned shelf was tucked behind the dresser -- which is just the sort of surprise you get when you're married to a painter/contractor.  I loved it and had only one request: could the husband paint it yellow?  Not only did he oblige; he added a candy pink stripe!  The result is Greek revival meets Easter.  Which is to say wonderful.

Once the shelf was up, it was time for the best part: loading it with books!  I chose titles by authors ranging from L. M. Montgomery (O, Canada!) to Kevin Kwan (see you in Singapore), with a world of other worlds in between.  I've always found the L. M. Montgomerys to be especially beautiful, even if Anne of Ingleside has faded from yellow to cream.  But in a way, their careworn spines are even comelier now because they show how much I've loved them.  Kind of like The Velveteen Rabbit.  (Which is, ironically, not on this shelf.  Note to self: order from Amazon.)  Anyway, as I auditioned each book to add, I asked myself one simple question: Did I enjoy reading it?  This may sound like a no-brainer, but there's a huge difference between books I enjoy and books I tolerate.  Books I enjoy either support my worldview or turn it on its head, which is a fancy way of saying that they make an impression.  Books that I tolerate are more meh.  Yet like bad pizza, they have their value.  Because even mediocre books give the gift of escape, weaving a parallel universe with their albeit often subpar yet lulling word rhythms.

So, here's to books, the good, the bad, and the fugly.  And to my personal literary rainbow.  I love to look at it while I'm making things.

Which is more than I can say for the Satellites' mullets.

Singapore Sling Bling: Make Mine a Mocktail

 Turquoise Joys Necklace

Yellow top: Marshalls

Orange top: Marshalls

Skirt: Boscov's

Shoes: Worthington, J. C. Penney's

Bag: Charming Charlie

DISCLAIMER: Crazy Rich Asians is (mostly) about Chinese people. But it also has "Asians" in the title, and I've decided this means that it's okay to use both Chinese and Japanese terms in this post, putting them under the same cherry blossom-emblazoned parasol-slash-umbrella.  This does not mean that I think Chinese and Japanese people are the same, just that I'm desperate for wordplay any way I can get it.  Please do not send hate haikus.

Not too long ago, I finished reading the last two books in Kevin Kwan's Crazy Rich Asians trilogy, China Rich Girlfriend and Rich People Problems.  Kwan picks up where he left off with Nick and Rachel, pitting their tender love story against the flamboyant foil of Asia's most earnest connivers. So, this week's look blooms from that gaudy garden.  The floral pattern in the ruched and ruffled crop top reminds me of the kind you'd see on a kimono, and the orange blouse underneath adds a twist of -- wait for it -- mandarin.  Never one for subtlety, I tossed in a trio of Chinese takeout containers.  I've always loved the bold red designs on the crisp white backgrounds, even if I'm not so crazy about what comes inside.  Well, except for the pu pu platter with its tempting array of golden fried goodness. Cream cheese and crab in a wonton?  Yes, please.  (Although now that I think of it, the pu pu platter comes, not in a container, but in a foil-lined bag bearing the words "Delicious Chinese Food."  Still, they didn't have those on Amazon.  Also, the pu pu platter should be labeled "Delicious American Food Made to Look Like Chinese Food for People Whose Families are Sick of Pizza.").

Of course, shunning moo shu pork is blasphemy to the Singaporeans who inhabit Kwan's universe.  These people are foodies of the first order, downing street fare delicacies as enthusiastically as they gobble up Gucci purses.  Which is fun to read even for someone with my pedestrian palate.  The desserts, for example, sound as delicious as they do beautiful, like those trendy kawaii squishies come to life:

But even the food doesn't hold a hibachi flame to the fashion.  China Rich Girlfriend introduces a new character, Mainland China darling Colette, whose wardrobe blows everyone else's out of the Yangtze.  This girl acquires couture clothes the way I pick up tee shirts in Target.  What's more, she's friends with Kyary Pamyu Pamyu, the outrageously and adorably harajuku-styled singer whom I know all about thanks to Pinterest.  Her lifestyle -- and style -- are the stuff of fantasy, as colorfully cute as anime or an umbrella drink.

Yet as envious as I was of Colette's stash of stuff, my favorite character is Nick's cousin Astrid.  She sets the trends instead of following them, a fashionista with a heart of gold who embodies not just glamour, but grace.  Which is refreshing, as so many well-heeled heroines turn out to be villains (hint hint).  Also, I love the name Astrid.  A Scandinavian moniker meaning strength and beauty, it conjures images of fiery asteroids juxtaposed with deceptively delicate-looking asters, making it spot-on symbolic for this (almost) leading lady.

Crazy Rich Asians, for all of its flash and fast talk, is about good people amidst the evils of excess.  While others finagle their way to the top of the fabled Forbes World's Billionaires list and plot to get richer through the time-honored sport of will stalking, Nick, Rachel, and Astrid remain firmly grounded.  This is the heart of Kwan's message, I think. That the quest for status is futile, that all we have is here and now and each other.

So wise, that Kevin.  Just like a fortune in your post-pu pu cookie. Speaking of which, here's one the husband got recently:

"As you slide down the banister of life, may the splinters never point your way."

We liked it so much that we put it in this dish in our dining room. 

Needless to say, Kwan's creeps are snagged by many a splinter. Well done, karma.

Which is from India, I know.  But still Asia.  

Constance Wu Plays Rachel Chu: Crazy About Crazy Kitsch Asians

 Eastern Romance Necklace

Top: Xhilaration, Target

Skirt (a dress!): Modcloth

Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Belt: Wet Seal

Bangles: B Fabulous

Ring: Making Waves

Cherry and bumblebee purse charms: Carole, JCPenney

Owl purse charm: Mudd, Kohl's

Barrettes: The Tote Trove

DISCLAIMER:  This post contains gratuitous use of the word "crazy," sometimes in pun form.  Don't say that I didn't warn you.

I know, I know, it's Crazy Rich Asians.  And they wouldn't like the "k" word, even if it is a cousin of  kawaii, that darling of the Japanese.  These people are about top drawer everything and wouldn't cotton to being called anything that resembles cute.  And yet . . . there is something decidedly campy about this story, which is filled with enough drama, romance, and satire to land somewhere between a telenovela and dark fairy tale.

First I read the novel by Kevin Kwan, and then my mom and I saw the movie.  Crazy Rich Asians has been out for years, but I never wanted to read it, probably because the cover seemed a little foreboding, with an art deco-y profile of an autocratic-looking Asian grande dame glowering from a burnt orange background.  Then the movie poster version came out, and I thought, hey, this looks interesting.  Those colors!  The promise of an old-fashioned love story!  The mom from Fresh Off the Boat!  Suddenly, it was a whole different game of mahjong.  And I was glad I decided to play.

Crazy Rich Asians is the story of Rachel Chu (Constance Wu) and Nick Young (Henry Golding).  And yes, of Nick's mega-big, mega-rich family.  Rachel and Nick are nice, normal, down-to-earth professors at NYU and have been happily dating for more than a year.  Then Nick invites Rachel home to Singapore for his best friend's wedding.  Rachel has never met Nick's family, nor does she know much about his childhood.  But she begins to get an inkling when they start their trip by flying first class.  Then they arrive, and Rachel is plunged into a wonderland of wealth and privilege beyond her wildest dreams.  Nick's grandmother's estate is palatial and so remote that it doesn't come up on GPS.  His cousins fly to Paris for shopping sprees and are regularly featured in Vogue.  And his mother -- well, his mother is less than impressed with Rachel, whom she sees as nothing more than a gold-digging banana (yellow on the outside, white on the inside) raised by a single mother.  Although no doormat, Rachel takes the high road when dealing with her beloved's cuckoo clan.  (No bitchy, don't-mess-with-me Jess from Fresh Off the Boat here.  Connie's got range!)  Still, trying to fit in is tricky.  Even the already-rich Young relations Rachel meets are merciless social climbers, and getting to know them is a bit like picnicking with piranhas.  For me, these parts were a little stressful to read, judgy people not being my cup of green tea.  But they are essential to the story, because it is, at its core, about the social games of acceptance and exclusion that people from all walks of life play.  Thankfully, Rachel has Peik Lin (Awkwafina), her college roommate, to diffuse the tension.  A new money funky fashionista dubbed by her own father (Ken Jeong) as the Asian Ellen, Peik Lin builds Rachel up when she needs it most.  And then, of course, there's Nick.  He's on her side, too -- that is, as much as the only son of a dragon lady can be.  If he's at fault at all, then it's in failing to prepare Rachel for all the strings that come attached to a family worth squillions.  Which seems -- ahem -- a bit crazy.  He says he's protecting her, but I can't help but wonder if he's protecting himself from the emotional messiness that will most likely and indeed does ensue from the meeting of his two leading ladies.  Will he prove himself to be a stand-up guy, a real life Prince Charming?  Or is he really a villain in professors' clothing, as obsessed with lineage and old money as his meddlesome mother?  A surprise from Rachel's past will force him to decide what he really wants and what he's willing to give up to get it.

So, are the book and the movie different?  Not really.  Rachel is sweet in both, but perhaps a smidgen steelier in the movie.  Similarly, the conflict in the book is more of a slow burner, which makes sense for 500 plus pages, many of which are filled with anecdotes and side stories.  But a feature film demands fireworks, both literal and figurative, and things come together more quickly and dramatically on the big screen.  Finally, there is one plot point that gets changed a little in the movie, but it's about the minor characters, and another that gets rushed along (it doesn't happen until book two in the trilogy.)  Still, for the most part, the story lines in the book and movie are nearly identical.  Here are some things I liked in each:

Book

Language translation footnotes offering up bon mot-style tidbits on Chinese cuisine, dialects, and traditions.

Lavish, lovingly crafted descriptions of everything from Birkins to hand-pulled noodles, Ferraris to oleanders.

Insight on how the crazy rich Asians got so rich (and so crazy).

Movie

Breathtaking scenery.

Showstopping fashion.  Colors, spangles, patterns, you name it.  I recognized many a couture gown from Pinterest -- as well as an Isaac Mizrahi orange slice floor pillow from Marshalls.

Witty one-liners and general light-heartedness.

Both

Nick and Rachel.  Their easy chemistry is sparklier than any Cartier bauble and truly touching.  Disney would be proud.

If you love love and grand gestures and opulence, then you'll love this book and movie.  Author Kevin Kwan grew up in Singapore, and it shows.  He's obviously intimately acquainted with the who's who of this tiny but mighty country -- and unafraid to poke fun at its foibles.

So yeah, missing this one would be -- wait for it -- crazy.

Now, a quick detour over to this week's (yes, Asian-themed!) project.  If this Eastern Romance Necklace looks familiar, then that's because it is.  I made it a long time ago but ripped it apart and put it back together again.  The old open circle shell beads and satin ribbon bow just weren't doing it for me anymore, so I replaced them with punky neon pink butterfly beads and rearranged the beads I kept.  A family jewel it isn't, but I like it a lot better now.

Whether of precious gems or glass and glue, accessories bring us together.  Or is it fire our imaginations?  Or make us rent more storage space?  Or fight over whose baubles are better?  I give up.  Some say that we're all the same because we all bleed, but I say that we're all the same because we like shiny things.  Sure, someone else's shiny thing may be tinfoil or a ruby or that glittery homemade slime everyone seems to be making, but the point is, it's the shininess that gets us through the day.  So that the next day we may seek more shininess -- and just maybe help someone else find her shininess, too.

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to pick out my tiara.