From Magical Dates to Mayan Doomsday

Posted on December 21, 2012 by lynda

Guess everyone survived Wednesday last week, eh? Went to all the wedding parties, visited all the newborn babies, signing all the important papers? Or ran your usual errands, like going to Pilates class and visiting your dermatologist, as I did?

Based on its sequence 12th December of 2012, or 12/12/12, was supposedly the last symmetrical date we’d ever see in our lifetime. First of all, there’s no 13th month. Secondly, none of us is supposedly blessed with such longevity to live through 12th December of 2112– unless the much-taunted zombie apocalypse really had some grounds (in which, “Eeeeek!”)

There are many people who find genuine delight in symmetrical numbers. Dad never missed the 1:11, 5:55 or 12:12 on the car’s dashboard clock, pointing at it gleefully while driving. I know enough people who tweet the strike of such hours, usually marked with a personal note or emoticon. Phone providers or realtors have long dealt with customers wanting to own particular digits for their personal properties.

Many people take the fancy to the next level and use those dates and hours to sign business deals, relocate, tie knots, or deliver baby—auspicious, easy to remember, or visually appealing are cited for reasons (as the Indonesians call it, “tanggal cantik” or “nomer cantik”). One of the most tweeted news on 12/12/12 was about the Alabama-based Kiam Moriya who turned 12 at precisely 12:12 pm that day– a particular birthday he had known and waited for with excitement since he was old enough to remember (it should be noted that he was born naturally, when his mom’s water broke 7 weeks too early). And despite criticisms or mockeries (I’ve heard some calling the 12/12/12 newlyweds as ‘freaks’ or parents bearing babies that day as ‘dominatrix’) I think everyone reserves the rights to schedule their private milestones.

Back to apocalypse. I’m not into the zombie euphoria, maybe because, umm, the zombies have zero appeal on this very-visual me. The hotly-debated apocalypse these days are none other than the one supposedly prophesied by the Mayan tribe, who roamed Mesoamerica, from modern Mexico to northern Costa Rica, a few thousand years ago. When the clock struck on midnight before last Thursday rolled in some incredibly misinformed people grunted that the Mayans had it wrong. Let me take this opportunity to clear up once again that, helloooo, the Mayans never said 12th of December. They said the 21st (or, considering the numerical gap between their almanac and the Gregorian calendar we use nowadays, the 23rd). Whoever got it wrong about the 12th and everyone who chose to accept it without Googling were clearly Net-illiterates, as far as I’m concerned.

Half of the world has moved into the 22nd now, and many people have either gone to celebrate or curse the Mayans– but, let’s ponder for a bit, did the Mayans REALLY mean doomsday?

The fact is, modern astronomy can calculate, calibrate and project planet movements sufficient enough to forecast a fatal collision. I trust some super genius people somewhere actually know how to somehow prevent or manage if such collision were ever in horizon– even if not in the patriotic style Ben Affleck and Bruce Willis taming a meteor with Steven Tyler wailing in the background.

Personally, I believe such brilliant efforts may not guarantee no doomsdays when The Divinity eventually decides to call us home at one swift go.

But, in the name of scientific approach, as any modern girl should do, I went on some information and knowledge search. A couple of archaeology or astronomy journals have discussed the issue at length, and here’s the summary of my learning.

First, the 21st of 23rd of this month coincides with the end of a Long Count Mayan cycle. There was never a mention that at the end of the cycle an apocalypse would ensue.

Second, the current Mayan almanac runs on about 5000-year period yet, interestingly enough, when this almanac was made a big part of it had already passed. Using our own calendar as example, though it starts on January 1st the calendar itself is made sometimes in March. There are no findings to intelligently explain why the Mayans decided to pick something in the past as the beginning of this cycle (which, as an archaeologist wryly remarked, there’s probably also no intelligent reason on the way they ended the cycle).

Third, the original almanac was engraved in Mayan orthography on supposedly humongous stone slabs. Now here’s me wryly asking, isn’t it entirely possible that the Mayans just ran out of stones to continue engraving the almanac on? I mean, it’s not like they had fancy forklifts and cool cranes those days.

As often the case, the most eloquent interpretation comes from the so-called New Age camp. The astrological Age of Aquarius, which lasts for 2,150 years in average, supposedly has just started or about to start soon depending on calculation methods. Many in this camp read it as the Mayans referring to the dawning of Aquarian Age. The world-renowned Kundalini master Yogi Bhajan pointed to November 20th of last year (!) as the full transition timing of Aquarian Age.

But hey, at the end of the day, again, I personally believe only The Divinity knows the actual end of days. Even if you’re reading this column all alive, we still have until the 23rd to find out if the Mayans got it right all along. In which case, let’s all turn off our gadgets, go out, and do something spectacular.

Natch.

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Meddling Much in Middle Class: The Ivory Towers’ New Pastime

Posted on February 29, 2012 by lynda

Enjoying your weekend? Either savoring Sunday brunch, sweating at gym, catching the latest flick and frocks or, hopefully, spending time outside malls with your beloveds, I wish you a good time. One does need rest after toiling away at work for 5-6 days, often into the wee hours, in addition to braving the gruesome urban traffic. Especially if one has paid due taxes and cast votes at elections, what’s there to stop enjoying the hard-earned fruits of one’s hard work, eh?
 
Yet, lo and behold, to some ultra-vigilant eyes in the country’s ivory towers, namely leading media channels and academics, we’re all just a bunch of image-chasing, product-guzzling, service-demanding, mad middle class, with no appetite left for something as glorious as risks and, um, revolution. Apparently Karl Marx named us “the parasites of capitalism”. A certain politician even lamented via Twitter that we’re “seasonal humanists”, which made me feel reduced to a bowl of exotic tropical fruits.
 
I won’t dwell on Karl Marx because, after all, he also coined the term lumpenproletariat, a.k.a. the rotten working class. I suspect the guy actually just despised the entire human race.
 
Let’s talk about this oft-reviled middle class. Who actually makes up the middle class? Debates have been raging longer than I have lived, but the recent general consensus for Asia Pacific by World Bank defines it as anyone with daily spending expenditure of USD 2-20.
 
That wide grouping alone is problematic. For example, an entry-level clerk may spend around USD 5 for daily commute and lunch, while a senior manager forks over USD 15 for the same expenses. The monthly income gap between them is easily about USD 1,000, which also will factor differently into their saving, investing, or total spending patterns, yet both are defined as ‘middle class’. Just as teachers and pupils’ parents, nurses and doctors, factory foremen and engineers, paralegals and lawyers, reporters and editors, small and medium entrepreneurs, are all middle class mass.
 
While we leave experts to iron out a clear definition, let’s try to look at what this so-called middle class can do. A quick look at prominent economic studies through the years show that middle class has proven to be contributing to accelerate a country’s growth. They account for around 18% of Indonesia population by 2010, and if you look at the country’s steady growth in recent years, it’s hard to deny the (in)-direct contribution of our middle class.
 
Does middle class consume more, of products and services, as their income rises? Sure. Their consumption growth tends to be higher than their income growth. Yet it’s not specific for Indonesia. Quick examples in the region; China and India. After being deprived from the outside world for decades, Chinese middle class now roams the globe, snapping up the latest, priciest gems and gadgets they can find that they, along with the rest of Asia that’s largely spared from the global credit crunch, practically rescued the international luxury business in the past 3 years. Indian new money may not be into bulk-buying Vuitton handbags, but do check the latest names listed over Dubai’s tony neighborhoods.  
 
In Europe, that would be Russia. Along with other things, sojourn spots in St. Tropez and Lake Como have changed hands from chic Parisiennes and bella Milanesas to Moscovite millionaire matriarchs. Do NOT get me started on the barely-afloat Greek islands.
 
But is it all that middle class does? Heck, no. The income rise couldn’t have come from them just lounging idly around on La-Z-Boy chairs. The rise comes from their hard work, which contributes to national output, just as the taxes collected from their income contribute to the country’s revenue. In demanding goods and services, their value-for-money principle and willingness to pay more for higher quality call for efficient manufacturing and effective public sector. Their yearning for better living induces them to adapt to technologies, leading to industrial technology transfers. Along with consumption, their investment (read: risk) appetite is also growing, beyond financial sector and into real sector. What is an entrepreneur, really, but someone who assumes risks in investing for future growth, all the while providing real jobs for working class? How, then, all of these were labeled in such a slapdash manner to “parasite existence”, I fail to fathom.      
 
Do not confuse their gusto for personal vehicles and traffic complaints with government’s longstanding inability to provide sufficient and integrated transportation systems, urban and rural. Do not sneer at their preference for malls and overseas concerts without recogizing government’s failure in public place developments and maintenance. Criticize urban planning and policies that enable proliferation of shopping centers at the cost of green parks, while acknowledging as well that entrepreneurs run businesses and people get jobs there. And before you accuse fledgling factory owners as modern-day Count Dracula preying at workers, open your eyes to the fact that crumbling infrastructure, loopholes in regulations, weak law enforcement and rampant corruption have collectively suck out the ever-thinning cushion owners can keep in maintaining competitiveness, domestic or global. If the profit becomes too marginal, it will be very tempting for owners to simply close factories and move investment to financial sectors, increasing unemployment.
 
If you want to shake up the slackers, as some of the middle class admittedly are, you need to smartly balance between luring and penalizing them. Go after their taxes, by providing public facilities. Lure them to poll booths, by jailing corrupt officials and creating a channel in which voters can make politicians execute their campaign promises. Acknowledge the involved ones, who so far have roamed the social media and started grass-root movements, so that they know they’ve made a difference and will coax their respective network to get involved, a positive snowball effect. Make it fun to be involved in thinking about the bigger issues, instead of telling them they can’t fit in because they’re a bunch of opportunistic consumers. Treat them like teenagers who have just acquired shiny, new toys—the more you alienate them, the less incentive for them to turn away from those playthings, and the less better off the nation is. Remember, they are HAVING toys to focus on. Then, soon before we know it, we all fall victim to the middle class trap like our dear neighbor Malaysia– learn about it earnestly, then think thrice about meddling too much on middle class’ natural dynamics.
 
The worst of all, really, is to become some middle class member, who earns living from yet fellow middle class, yet to subjectively point fingers at middle class’ flaws without providing workable solutions. Professional proletarian snobs? Pffft.
 
Now while you digest this, I’ll head for yoga, the world in which everyone is about equal, unless your seven chakras are all opened for which you’ll be the new divinity after Buddha anyway. I promise I’ll chant an earthly mantra for the ivory towers and a loving prayer for my middle class brethren.

As published: http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2012/02/26/when-ivory-tower-meddles-middle-class.html                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Posted in Econ, Politics, Society | Leave a comment

Of Love, Lust, Light and Life

Posted on February 14, 2012 by lynda

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. Which means, the modern society will once again be polarized into the ones who celebrate it, abhor it, or just plainly ignore it.

I’ve long excused myself from all the controversies about the history or significance of Valentine’s Day. But I’m in the mood to talk about love, and some more.

Love. The word has been idolized, misused, overused, commoditized, and in recent years, highly-sexualized. If anything stands out consistently from the TV and movie montages within the past decade, it’s Hollywood’s romantic comedy movies and The Bachelor/Bachelorette reality series that has run for 16 seasons since 2002, shown in dozens of countries and spun for other shows. Never has love been so formulated, glamorized with witty one-liners, and unionized by dreamy, grand gestures as in romantic comedy genre. And never has love been so commoditized and sexualized as in dating shows, even without blatant physical consummation scenes. Oh wait, because that would be porn.

I’m not fourteen. Of course there’s a cosmic diagram Venn involving love and lust, just as each can exist independently from the other. The problem arises when the line is blurred and love ends up being served carnal-style first.

Again, I’m not fourteen. Being wined, dined and florally drowned do not love make. Romance helps igniting and replenishing sparks, but beyond that, mutual trust and commitment that makes enduring love. Trust and commitment are often formed through fiery spats, flowing tears, or mundane chores of trash taking and bill paying or as we call it, the dear usual life. A picture-perfect meet-cute is a dangerous oversimplification, at best.

You think I’ve been watching too much TV and movies?  Then I suppose you don’t know the time I spend surfing news and tweeting. In this age of communication, admittedly or not, most of us spend much more time getting connected to people, ideas and events. We want it, need it, and now rather than later. Yet in this universal rush, somehow, we and love have often lost each other.

I’ve had love. I’ve fought for it, strived to keep it, and lost it, too. Perhaps too many tales than what I’d care to regale my grandkids with later, but not that many that I’m too confused to know what I want or too tired to keep seeking for what I want. I keep a little light within, and use it to navigate the treacherous, often dishonesty-infested waters of adult relationships.

And I think that the little personal light is what we all should return to and believe in, now more than ever. That light connects our reasoning mind, rendering heart, and rarely-referenced soul. We all have it within, though often hidden, or barely lit. Even if it’s lit brightly, sometimes we’re tempted to ignore it for the fireworks outside. We see ourselves as someone we’re not, or we see our partners as someone else they aren’t, and then we conclude that either love dies or is never there to begin with. I sure as hell have made that mistake.

Keep your social media connections. Keep your social life. But before engaging to another human being, always make honest, determined attempts to always listen to telling voice inside, to look at the flickering light within. Those two things will get you to know yourself and to help you honestly acknowledging what, or whom, you’re getting yourself into. Is this a momentarily fit of rage, or a pattern of abusive behavior? Is this an overly sunny disposition, or a fleeting attention span? Is this a sense of camaraderie, or inability to function independently? Is this a desire to commune, or a pestering tendency? Is this a cautionary attitude, or a cautionary tale? Is this a match in heaven, or the devil’s masterpiece of brilliant disguise?

I don’t have the answers for each of you. But while I’m still faithfully seeking and searching for enduring love, that includes a healthy dose of lust if I may be so forthright about it, I’m grateful to have finally found that light within. I feel less confused, less angry, less hurt. 14th of February or any other day, I have that light guiding me. 

Find that light, lit it, look at it, look with it. Have your own flickering flame this Valentine’s Day, everyone.

As published: http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2012/02/12/by-way-of-love-lust-light-and-life.html

Posted in Love & Romance | Leave a comment

Modern Indonesian Women Embracing Their Heritage Silhouette

Posted on January 12, 2012 by lynda

For the longest time, especially in the Western hemisphere, corsets are seen as a symbol of female restrictions. The tight, often whalebone-constructed, laced-up bodily contraptions do make it difficult for women to be physically active.

Corset is not a Western exclusive. Many traditional Indonesian costumes featured similar torso contraptions which main function is to clearly define the wearer’s waist plus accentuate the hips and bosoms. Sundanese, Javanese, Balinese have stagen, the 2-meter wrapped-around sash that holds up the traditional cloth and contours the torso. The Sumatran costumes all feature golden, metal waistband; baju kurung (long tunic) even follows the wearer’s body lines and has side slits, that makes it easy to walk while showing an illusion of wearer’s legs.

To me, Indonesian women have never really wrestled with feminine garbs; choosing instead to embrace them and master the art to move gracefully in them. True, we don’t don the corsets on a daily basis anymore because, frankly, we need to run errands, chase kids, and pursue career, and often already have to do it in 5-cm heels. But, just as we strap on the 9-cm Manolos or Louboutins for evenings or special occasions, the Indonesian women proudly tap into the cultural heritage, squeeze into a torso-defining outfit, and step out looking their most feminine.  

The designers at Jakarta Fashion Week 2012 have clearly taken notes. Kebaya, native of Java and Bali islands, though now have been embraced by many Indonesian women across the archipelago, is featured resourcefully and enchantingly throughout. Yasra, a renowned name in kebaya designing, showed fine techniques in a series of new creations, such as under-bust cut, loose-fitting blouson, flirty coattail, and sexy, heart-shaped, open back. Obin dig deeper into the older, now-rarely-worn kutu baru style and played it up with flyaway sleeves.

Modern takes on baju kurung was also shown by Yasra, who paired it with tenun pants and wrapped cloth, as well as an interesting twist I caught during Biyan show.

Kudos to Ferry Soenarto, who, as promised during the press-conference, really showed how kebaya could catch global interests. His designs used classic kebaya structures to whip up glamorous, tier-collared, evening ensembles, pairing them with floor-length skirts or palazzo pants, so smooth that unless you’re very familiar with kebaya you wouldn’t notice it. Yasra also tried to transform her creations into universal evening wear, showed by the peplum or full skirt, yet retained the kebaya cut quite visibly.

So, here you go, modern, ass-kicking Indonesian women embracing the heritage silhouette and making it current. Personally, I’m proud. And I will be more proud if next year’s JFW designers can show fresh takes on other traditional tops. Remember Makassar’s see-through baju bodo, or the all-white, fitted blouse from Manado? Aha.

As published, WITH RELATED PICTURES: http://fashionesedaily.com/blog/2012/01/10/modern-indonesian-women-embracing-their-heritage-silhouette/

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Why Fret About the Mayan Prophecy, When Jakarta Needs Saving Now?

Posted on January 10, 2012 by lynda

How has 2012 treated you so far? While some of you, probably the Mayan prophecy diehards, are still recovering from a prolonged New Year celebration, some of us have had to return to real life.

Real life in Indonesia this time of the year involves the raining season, a heavy dose of tropical rain that is actually much-needed to wash away dirt and dreariness from the half-year-long dry season. As a child, I loved this season. Either curling up in bed listening to the sound of rain, or enjoying the scent and view from the inside of a moving vehicle. It was one of my life’s small blisses.

That’s a small luxury I, and many Jakartans, can no longer relate to. In the past few years raining season has turned into an urban horror story, when blocked waterways pushed excess water onto the streets, where dirt turned them into sludge, then halted the already jammed traffic into a standstill. Hours after hours.

There are many sophisticated ways to count how much Jakarta and its habitants suffer from overused petrol, wasted productive hours, extra costs, to business opportunity losses. But there is never an adequate way to quantify the loss of energy, fighting spirit, or just general positive attitude whenever someone has to trudge along the impassable streets. Just glance over what Jakartans colorfully tweet during rush hours, including, um, the merry ways to incorporate our Governor’s name into swearing.

A friend missed my after-hours birthday party recently because she had no energy to brave the path from her office on southern Jl. Fatmawati to downtown Plaza Indonesia, which she likened to ‘parting the Red Sea a la Noah’. I’m lucky to live near downtown and mostly work from home, but even I’ve had to reschedule or cancel various engagements, business and social, because the traffic, raining or not, was simply not worth all the fuss.  Growing up I’ve always been known as an outgoing, people person – yet lately I feel like I’ve been confined to and trapped in a city that wouldn’t let me freely move nor breathe. Even without personal economic demands, Jakartans aren’t that much different to caged animals. It’s no wonder many of us suffer from all kinds of physical and social illnesses.

The province of DKI Jakarta is up for its governor election this year. I have only 3 things to say to all aspiring candidates; adequate mass transportation system, trash management, and sewage canals. Yes, in that order. Before any grand plans.

An adequate and affordable mass transportation system will quickly reduce the need for personal vehicles. We’ve toyed with monorail and subway ideas, and finally somewhat settled with the Trans Jakarta buses, yet it’s not adequately serving the mass population, who’s been obtaining motorcycles on cheap credits, and far from attracting the upwardly mobile, upper middle class Jakartans, still comfortably tucked into AC-ed cars. Fix it or provide us with something else.

The ugly details of trash management. With the rise of income, the more we consume, and hence, the more we discard. Modern building managements have started to properly manage trash, but we live beyond offices, malls, and posh apartments. The city needs to devise much better protocols and laws, not only for advanced waste management like recycling, but first to induce Jakartans to actually follow them. The less people throw garbage on sidewalks and sewers, the fewer blockages and sludge will occur during raining season, among other benefits.

Last but not least, those canals transporting water from establishments or rainfall. Look around and see the latest trend in both residential and commercial buildings, to cover roadside sewers with concretes, mostly to make wider parking space. Don’t these people have logic? How raindrops are supposed to be absorbed or channeled away? No wonder the streets are flooded an hour into rain, the water has no place to go! And how come the city turns a blind eye over this stupidity?

I vote and pay taxes, so now it’s my turn to ask for the city government, which has been collecting my taxes, to get their act together and provide me and other 13 million inhabitants a livable, living city. I don’t need empty slogans on giant-sized billboards featuring smiling candidates. A candidate with clear, concise, deliverable plans will win my vote.

Forget the Mayan prophecy. Without much better governance, Jakarta may just suck the life out of you before December. 

As published: http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2012/02/12/by-way-of-love-lust-light-and-life.html

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Beyond Batik: The Tantalizing Textiles of Nusantara

Posted on December 19, 2011 by lynda

It has been really encouraging to see the revived interests in Javanese batik in recent years. And, certainly, the UNESCO Heritage award did us all rightfully proud.

Yet, it’s rather disheartening to see that many Indonesians got so caught up in batik that these days it has somewhat become the sole symbol of Indonesian textiles. The truth is, almost every native group in Indonesia has their own traditional textile.

From Sumatera alone we have ulos in Tapanuli, songket in Padang and Palembang, and the lesser-known, yet just as fabulous, tapis in Lampung. Going eastward, there are abundant woven cloths (tenun) in Kalimantan, Sumbawa, all the way to Papua. Tenun ikat is present in few different areas. Even Java has the less-exposed, much-less-explored lurik and jumputan (tie-dye).

If there’s anything we could learn from the gloomier decades of batik, is that it first takes wearing en masse, on a commercially-viable level, before a traditional textile can survive, let alone thrive. The logic is very clear; when less people buy, the artisans earn less income and incentive to innovate, which will make the textile even less desired. A vicious cycle that may just leave us with nothing much beyond the revived batik. Not exactly a pretty and promising picture, eh?

Tapping into a region’s native cloth, whatever that may be, is also much more organic and sustainable than pushing to create a ‘local batik’, something that I’ve seen becoming a worrisome trend lately. Suddenly every province and their cousin want to have their own batik. I mean, seriously, batik Aceh and Minahasa? Why, when these regions may actually have their own tenun, songket, ikat, or a traditional textile waiting to be discovered by the world? Sure, mass commerce may have something to do with that, but copycatting only generates a quick influx of revenue that will soon stop streaming when the unoriginal creative juice behind it dries up.

No need to look further than the Jakarta Fashion Week 2012 for inspirations. Gorgeous galore of traditional textiles have paraded down the catwalks, from tapis to tenun, designed into ready-to-wear ensembles and unique, couture-minded pieces. Dee Ong’s promising tapis designs have clean lines and eye-pleasing, yet unfussy details. Defrico Audy drew inspiration from antique Kutai royal look, turning Kalimantan tenun ulap doyo into glamorous silk chiffon ensembles. Ian Adrian showed that traditional cloths can travel back to ‘70s glam rock era. Seasoned Muslim wear designer Ida Royani whipped Sumba tenun into a bohemian chic collection, beyond the usual billowy Muslim dresses. And last but not least, Lulu Lutfi Labibi, who won Lomba Perancang Mode this year with modern twists on her native Yogyakarta’s traditional lurik.

As for the batik itself, there have been innovations and fresh takes, I’m pleased to see. Ki Artik Batik’s strong collection drew inspirations from Balinese under-bust sash and rice grain pattern. The reigning queen of batik, Obin, showed raw silk materials so fine they’re almost see-through, yet retain enough a gossamer-like shine, in addition to funky ikat and high-street lurik.

World, you’re yet to make acquaintance of the tantalizing textiles of Nusantara.

As published, WITH RELATED PICTURES: http://fashionesedaily.com/blog/2011/12/09/lynda-ibrahim-beyond-batik-the-tantalizing-textiles-of-nusantara/

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Seeing All Red Over Soles: Louboutin vs. YSL

Posted on September 29, 2011 by lynda

Yes, I’m going to talk about Louboutins. But no, ladies, it’s not about the latest styles or colors. I’m going to talk about the one color that’s been there since the beginning of the brand; the red lacquer on the outsoles of each and every Louboutin shoe. Or, as technically named; Pantone No. 18-1663 TP, ‘Chinese Red’’.

As some of you might’ve already known, Yves St. Laurent’s Cruise 2011 collections featured colorful shoes with similarly-hued soles. There were purple-soled purple shoes, green-soled green shoes, and red-soled red shoes. It’s the latter that Louboutin saw too similar to their creations. And since Louboutin holds the trademark of red-lacquered shoe soles (detailed above), as awarded by the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office in 2008, they decided to file a trademark infringement suit in New York around April this year over Tribute, Taboo, Palais, and Woodstock models in YSL’s Cruise 2011 collections. The brand was seeking USD 1 million in damages or, umm… about 250 to 1,250 pairs worth of their shoes.

Let me blow my trumpet a bit. I had owned a pair of Louboutins long before the flagship boutique opened its doors in Jakarta. Instead of the platform style popularized later by movie Sex and the City 2 (read my review here: www.fashionesedaily.com/blog/2010/06/14/sour-sequel-presents-fashion-is-the-story-in-a-city-part-2/), mine is pointy-toed stilettos in white-grey python leather. Its unique, diagonal, slashed-out side cuts makes the pair almost looks like d’Orsay pumps. Adding the red soles peeking beneath, it’s sexy as hell.

The name Christian Louboutin is not something new for true shoe lovers. I learned about the brand almost a decade ago and, looking at its downright sensual flair, had a feeling that it might advance sooner than the likes of Cesare Paciotti, Giuseppe Zanotti, Brian Atwood or Sigerson Morrison, to join the upper ranks of Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo.

Yet now, let’s put aside our love for shoes, or Louboutins in particular, and think in a broader business perspective. Can a brand validly trademark a product color?

I’m no lawyer, yet during my years as a brand manager, when a part of the job was dealing and understanding trademark and copyrights issues to certain degree, I never heard of a color being trademarked. I contacted a couple of intellectual property rights lawyers recently to discuss the issue, and they agreed that while it’s viable to patent a certain design, it would be almost impossible to trademark any color, especially, as in this case, a color that had already been identified and made available by Pantone anyway.

I went back to my fashion library and found references of shoes with red soles as far back as 16th century England. Queen Mary I, the older half-sister of Queen Elizabeth I, was recorded in 1554 of ordering 38 pairs of velvet shoes, lined with satin, and soled in scarlet color. King Louis XIV of France was known in 18th century to dance in red-heeled shoes. And red soles have popped in and out of fashion ever since, including the iconic sparkly, all-over-red pumps Dorothy wore in legendary musical movie Wizard of Oz in 1939. Perhaps only Christian Louboutin who ever consciously, prominently used that color to sole his shoes since starting business in 1991, but it really doesn’t make him the first adopter and hence, very unlikely to claim a trademark.

Did YSL deliberately want to rock Louboutin’s boat? Fashion is indeed a cutthroat, multibillion dollar business where anything is possible, yet I seriously doubt that possibility. Since its foundation in 1962 as a fashion house, where its beatnik look was worshipped during the ‘70s, YSL has grown into a full luxury house that includes accessories and cosmetics (I personally swear by their world-class Touche Eclat and mascaras). Founder Yves St. Laurent himself continued to design its haute-couture line until 2002 after the Gucci Group takeover in 1999. Currently under the creative hand of Stefano Pilati, YSL is a much-revered brand on its own merit that would not gain much by purposely eroding Louboutin’s market share for shoes, especially if it meant dealing with pesky, time-consuming, legal matters.

So, what, then? After a bit of silent soul-searching I came to realize that, as in many cases in fashion, perhaps vanity is the real answer here.

Of all the reasons a woman can love shoes, Louboutins’ red sole has been mentioned, openly or sheepishly, as one of the most attractive factors of the shoes. Without ever needing to tackily mention or point at, all a wearer has to do is sit pretty, cross her legs, and flick her feet for the red sole to suddenly come to full view. In that very instance, a status would be gained or reconfirmed. That’s something that cannot be 100% guaranteed by either Manolos or Choos while, as any fashionista would know and should admit, peer recognition is often the chosen drug in this industry. I think Christian Louboutin understands this perfectly well, hence filed for the trademark and now is panicking that another brand might steal its thunder.

And if that’s the case, isn’t that just sad? As if, Louboutin openly admits that its unique selling point for the past 2 decades hinges solely on the red sole, instead of something stronger and more lasting, like the overall design. Surely there are newbie and wannabe fashionistas who’ve been snapping Louboutins thanks to J. Lo’s song or SATC 2, yet I believe true fashionistas and shoe lovers will always return, just as we never left Manolos and Choos or even Roger Vivier’s, for the actual shoes on display. I sure as hell didn’t but my Louboutins for the red sole. If Louboutin wants to survive for another 20 years in this increasingly-competitive shoes category, they should bet on something more solid than simply a scarlet sole.

Of course, you may agree or disagree— I’d even welcome any Louboutin diehard angrily throwing their Louboutins at me, provided that they’re in size 36 ½, merci ;)

Back to the legal suit, last August New York court rejected Louboutin’s plea to stop YSL from selling their red-soled shoes and indicated that it might even review the validity of trademark Louboutin acquired in 2008. Louboutin responded by stating that it would appeal all the way to Supreme Court, if need be.

While the lawyers on both sides will be kept busy for the next months, let us take off our shoes, sit back, and ponder for a moment– does Louboutin have a real, legal standing? What do YOU think?

As published: http://fashionesedaily.com/blog/2011/09/26/seing-all-red-over-soles-louboutin-vs-ysl/

 

 References:

  1. Shoes. Lucy Pratt & Linda Woolley. V&A Publishing, 1999.
  2. I Want Those Shoes. Paola Jacobbi. Sperling & Kupfer Editori, 2004.
  3. Article: http://www.economist.com/node/21526357?fsrc=scn/tw/te/mt/layoffmyredsoledshoes
  4. Article: http://www.ipbrief.net/2011/09/08/seeing-red-christian-louboutin-v-yves-saint-laurent/

Posted in Branding, Fashion, Law | Leave a comment

When Good Intentions Walk an Extra Mile for a Greater Good

Posted on August 18, 2011 by lynda

Yep, that time of the year again, folks. I mean Ramadhan, not another wave of global credit crunch, although if we look back at 2008, the first crisis also folded out during Ramadhan. I’m neither historian nor futurologist, so that’s as much of comparison as I’m willing to do here on the subject.

Let’s go back to Ramadhan. Besides the ever-worsening traffic jams around dusk and premature retail sale at malls, what else is common?

Alms. Sadaqah. Charity.

Two arguments here. The perpetually positive side argues that, after much contemplation, Ramadhan practitioners are awash with acute awareness of pain and suffering around them that they’d rush to give and donate, more than they’d usually be inclined to.

The other side wonders if the sudden philanthropy rises from the fact that religious edicts dictate that any good deeds performed during Ramadhan will gain multiple rewards on one’s afterlife.

Since I’m also no mind-reader and not keen on playing God, feel free to ponder on those arguments and decide for yourself.

As a former corporate warrior, I’ll take you instead to play around with efficiency and effectiveness.

Now, let me ask you, how do your bills arrive? With a few variations of quarterly, bimonthly, or weekly, most of you get your bills, from utilities to credit card charges to loan repayments, on a monthly basis.  Most of us do grocery shopping on a weekly basis. Many of us do lunch outside on almost a daily basis. And that’s what life is; a continuous, moment-to-moment process. Life goes on, literally, every single second. And guess what, your expenses occur alongside, also continuously. Expenses don’t occur once in a holy month of the year.

Most orphanages, shelters, halfway homes and nurseries in Indonesia receive abundant, overflowing donations and alms during Ramadhan/Idul Fitri, Idul Adha and year-end/Christmastime. Orphanages are inundated with fast-breaking invitations during Ramadhan, the kids are stuffed with McDonalds’s or fancy hotel buffets laden with meals they barely know, showered with new attires, mostly of Islamic fashion, before sent home toting bagful of goodies. Raw cuts of beef and lamb are delivered during that one Idul Adha day, surpassing the amount they’ll normally consume in half a month. Similar overabundance around Christmastime. And so on and so forth.

Yet when the extravaganza has passed and the enlightenment has dissipated, the bills keep coming. Groceries still have to be purchased. Orphans still have to go to school and buy books, just as grannies still need warm blankets and regularly-salaried nurses to help them function in senior citizen nurseries. The whole eleven months beyond Ramadhan.

So here’s my proposal. Instead of your usual lump-sum holiday donation, divide them into 12, and send it monthly. You may think it’s small to the point of embarrassing, but if there’s anything I can teach you on good corporate planning, is the crucial factor of regularity. Amid all variables, you need a constant to make your calculation. That monthly sum, once the caretakers know will steadily come, will be accounted towards their operational budget. For all you know, that small sum will cover the month’s diapers, pencils, socks, or a portion of electricity bills.

Sure, you can donate two goats by Idul Adha. Yet, beyond religious dogma, think of what the same amount is worth once converted into weekly or monthly groceries. From my own experience I can tell you that for Rp 500,000, the same amount a middle-class Jakartan family can nonchalantly spend in one weekend at nearby mall, you can get enough eggs and milk to feed 50 orphans in a week. As juicy as mutton skewers taste for a day, it’s healthier for kids to consume eggs and milk everyday.     

The ones who really know what’s needed are the caretakers. Call them and humbly ask. You’d be surprised to hear that instead of yet another pair of Muslim attire, things they may already be receiving from others this month, the kids need new mattresses or bed-sheets to replace the tattered ones. Or the roof needs repair so it won’t leak on top of kids’ bookshelves every time it rains. Or there’s this bright girl who can’t continue into high-school because the orphanage can’t afford the tuition. Or the need for a bigger fridge to accommodate the Idul Adha meat donations that otherwise would have to be discarded in two days. Or that what the senile grannies really need is a constant supply of good adult diapers.

Think about it. The extra mile, for your good intentions to serve a greater good for miles. Happy Ramadhan, everyone.   

As published: http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2011/08/07/by-way-when-good-intentions-walk-extra-mile-greater-good.html

Posted in City Life, Society | Leave a comment

Ubud: Not Ready for Its Close-Up

Posted on June 30, 2011 by lynda

I first went to Bali in early or mid eighties. Its beaches then were already festive and packed with tourists from every corner of the world, I actually saw a woman in cowboy hat and boots traipsed along sandy Kuta strip under the glaring midday sun.

But Ubud was the true enchantment. A small town tucked in the middle of vast paddy fields, home of farmers and artisans, with the sacred Monkey Forest and museums as main attractions. The tourists were much fewer than the beach flock and, if I may say, showed keener interests in knowing Balinese unique, multi-dimensional culture. Many were honeymooners wanting an intimate vacation. Its expat community seemed intending to blend into local traditions than painting the bar-free town with their colors, as commonly found in expat enclaves worldwide. School-children populated the streets by 7am, while noise and light went out by about 8pm. Soft breeze often billowed around I got a feeling that time was ticking in a different pace—savored, rejoiced, as it went slowly by. I wouldn’t exactly call it Bali’s best kept secret, but certainly Bali’s best kept jewel.

So I kept returning. Stayed in locally-owned inns sans AC or TV, facing paddy field and at times within earshot from a duck farm, to momentarily rest my burdened body, heavy heart, meandering mind, and searching soul. A vortex of energy, as I later learned from yoga.

Like a particularly memorable trip at the end of summer 2000. I’d had endured two semesters in a US-based business school, with a Latin-American winterim program in between, before toiling for a summer internship in Jakarta. Not having been on a break for a year with only a week left before starting another grueling school year, Ubud was the perfect option. I flew with college pal Indy who’d just finished graduate school overseas, and we went swimming, shopping, and strolling around whenever we weren’t sleeping in. The town was still relatively quiet we couldn’t find a full-service spa. After a hearty grilled duck dinner one night, we decided to follow the lovely sound of gamelan music in the banjar (community center) up on Hanoman Road, yet twice almost walked back because the road was getting darker and buildings getting scarcer amid paddy fields.

How different a half decade makes. Regularly returning to Ubud since 2005, the changes I see have taken an accelerated pace. Every single time, I’d spot a paddy field disappearing into a café, or dress shop, and anything in between. Gone were the duck farms, and dirty ducks became an exotic symbol only found near the iconic restaurant that’s rumored to have bought paddy fields AND the ducks around its vicinity to preserve the picturesque view.   

Then, Eat Pray Love happened.

First, let’s be clear that I’m no EPL basher. I loved the book and I’m not going to dispute what Elizabeth Glibert lived through, because it was her personal experiences. I’d read it a year even before it was on Oprah. Intrigued by the word ‘Indonesia’ on the hardcover of a book that surprisingly wasn’t saying bad things about the country, I decided to buy one of the two copies found under the self-help section in Kinokuniya Plaza Senayan.

The book reinforced my understanding of Ubud as an energy vortex that draws in individuals, either to channel for brand new energy or replenish their deflated state. It’s no surprise that a healing community rapidly grew. I am, after all, a devotee of the annual Bali Spirit Festival since it started four years ago and have discovered, by way of the Festival, and I don’t mean shaman Ketut Liyer here, healing channels that helped me processing a lot of fogs and rocks cramming inside this little old me. Having said that, I also believe that any spiritual path is highly personal it’s different for each individual, and may not even involve Ubud at all, so one shouldn’t assume that because one has been granted an audience with certain shaman one will run into Javier Bardem at the end of one’s journey.

A similar realistic view is desperately needed among Ubud authorities. It’s no secret that in society tightly bound in traditions like Bali, local aristocrats have as much a say as public officials. Instead of being sucked into the euphoria of Ubud becoming Asia’s top destination, authorities from both sides should seriously sit down to formulate a master city plan to, not only accommodate present and growing situations, but also regulate developments for the next couple of decades.

Let’s start with road facilities, especially around the downtown triangle of Hanoman-Monkey Forest-Ubud Raya, where tourists and locals mostly travel within. The sidewalks aren’t well built, often uneven-sided, and are dotted with street hawkers or a gaping, straight-down-to-sewer hole in every few blocks. More lampposts won’t hurt either. And big buses shouldn’t be allowed onto any road beyond Ubud Raya and Monkey Forest streets because they’re simply not built for those buses.

Next, public facilities. Instead of turning that landmark soccer field on the corner of Dewi Sita and Monkey Forest roads into parking lot for big buses, as has been rumored, why not building the lot outside the downtown triangle and let tourists to walk around in better-facilitated roads? The soccer field not only brings much-needed breeze during hot summer days that many will sit to enjoy lunch in, it serves as after-school playground for local kids. Authority should even re-grow the grass, repaint the goalposts, add some benches, and make that soccer field a town park for all to enjoy.

As much as I’m thrilled for the bustling economy, shouldn’t business permits be controlled? How many bistros, kiosks and private villas Ubud needs? Ubud that normally would retire by 8pm now boasts at least one 24-hour minimarket on each side of the downtown roads. And don’t get me started on how Starbucks, a banal of global mass product, managed to snag a spot in town. Or, how I, a years-long trained brand manager, couldn’t understand, for the life of me, the relevance of a marketing museum there while Jakarta the metropolitan hasn’t even been graced by one. The morning after the Earth Hour evening I woke up to watch a tree cut down since its roots had grown to disrupt, oh, parking space for motorcycles. Should we wait until all the paddy fields, the prime reason tourists trekked to Ubud in the first place, are gone?

Then, trash! I’m thrilled that the small market has grown into a bustling two-story full of locally-owned kiosks, but does that mean the stinking trash that’s piling up everyday should just be shrugged off as a professional hazard? The market is only a stone’s throw from the royal family compound; can’t they see or smell the trashy reality already?

There have been too many examples. Kuta and Sanur have been inundated by trash, of any kinds, that they’ve turned seedy more than sandy in recent years. Jakarta has the once-chic Kemang area that’s now just as messy as Tanah Abang.

We all love Ubud. But it takes more than love, a spot on regional travel magazine, a bestseller book, or a Hollywood movie, to earn Ubud the rights to go global. As of right now, Ubud is not ready, and its shine isn’t glistening anymore. But it’s not too late. I’m calling for Ubud public officials and royal family to please get your act together, before Bali’s best kept jewel are ruined forever beyond repair.

Published on: The Jakarta Post’s monthly magazine Weekender, June 2011 edition, page 39.

Posted in Art & Culture, Eco Life, Travel & Tourism | 9 Comments

Make No Mistake About the Ring of the Real Royal Bells

Posted on May 25, 2011 by lynda

We all have our own escapist distractions. In the world gradually going mad like this, you practically need to escape from rough reality on some self-determined basis to keep afloat. This week many people turned to the British royal wedding for our escapism dose.

Why not? The dashing young prince, second-in-line to the grandest monarchy, firstborn of world’s most renowned princess, who herself got married in the wedding of last century, was marrying his college sweetheart, a willowy loveliness who despite having been raised by self-made millionaire parents is nonetheless a commoner, in the wedding of this century.

And there was something for everyone. Royal loyalists enjoyed the full display of pageantry, pomp and circumstances that the British monarchy knows best how to do. Royal haters inspected a blueblood betrothed outside aristocratic lines, looking for solid proofs of modernizing monarchy. Fashionistas went gaga over Kate’s dress and the gaggle of Phillip Treacy’s feathered hats. Queen Rania, Cinderella of Jordan herself, tweeted that she’d spent the day with her kids watching it on TV. The rest of us just wanted to see such beautiful celebrations of love that made us forget, for a few hours, of all the ills in our own lives.

Of course, naysayers are always aplenty. Yet beyond the standard “Such waste of money and time when there are real problems in the world” litany heard across the globe, the Indonesians had a different twist this time. There were talks of our own impending “royal” wedding, delivered mostly in snide remarks.

Allow me to be the first to squash that notion. Our democracy has presidents, not kings. Our presidents can go after one term and will go after two, and cannot legally pass the power baton to any kin. Certainly politicians can raise politically-charged families and aim to expand their network by way of strategic alliances including marriages, as we’ve witnessed through the Roosevelts, Kennedys and Bushes in the US, and the Soong sisters, Nehru-Gandhis, Bhuttos, Lees, or Aquinos in Asia.

Let us remember that the political elites have rights to marry whoever they desire, and as generally happen, people marry within their own circle, so no need to act ghastly surprised that offspring of two heavyweight politicians are tying knots. This union may well be birthing merged bloodlines, or ‘dynasty’ as some of you choose to call it, yet may not necessarily translates to real ruling power. Why? Because the power to deliver ruling authority lies on our hands, faceless voters picking our representatives on Election Day. Hence, if you don’t want a dynasty-model of republic, simply do not vote for political parties offering that idea.

And, as a writer who’s susceptible towards words, and a yogini aware of energy flow, may I strong suggest us stopping to refer to it as a ‘royal’ wedding. Yes, including media, Facebookers and Twitterati. The more you call out something, the truer it rings over time. So just refer to it as a wedding, or a political wedding if you must label it, but not the ‘R’ word. Because it is not. Don’t make it be.

Back to the real royal wedding. Must admit I was pleased to watch time-honored traditions, such as the program orders and guest arrivals, were artfully meshed with digital age sensibilities, like the Middletons contributed to the wedding expenses and William himself driving out the post-reception ‘Just Got Married’ car. I found some solace in imagining that while Diana had to miss the nuptials, she was probably up there clinking champagne flutes with British badboy designer Alexander McQueen over her daughter-in-law’s choice of dress. The sleek Chantilly-laced-bodice, angelic silk-tulle veil, and tasteful train on that gorgeous satin gown, a reminiscent of when an American Cinderella named Grace Kelly married a European prince half a century ago, oozes such modern glamour that the regular jane born with conspicuously regal name of Catherine Elizabeth, looks halfway fit to be queen.

The boy who walked mournfully behind her beloved mummy’s casket has grown into a strapping young man, returning to the Abbey, in such a resplendent Irish Guard uniform, to marry his bride. For that reason alone, I had to watch the event. Call me hopeless romantic, but first pass me the tissue, please. 

As published: http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2011/05/01/by-way-make-no-mistake-about-ring-real-royal-bells.html

Posted in Glitteratti, Love & Romance, Politics | Leave a comment