I'm beginning to think that I love lines. Not in a coke addict way, but in a quintessentially Hong Kong way. There was absolutely no reason for me to wake up on a Saturday morning to stand in Central for an hour to get a YSL brochure and tote bag as part of the "Manifesto" movement, but "what the hell." I figured, "might as well."
Joining my army were Michelle, Andrea, Denise and of course, my trusty partner-in-crime, FashionGeek Virginia. Andrea and I of course had braved much worse, having succumbed to the whole Lanvin x H&M madness, so we assumed we were old pros, but for some reason this experience was a little more bleh.
When I got there at 11am on the dot, Denise and Michelle were already there, and I quickly squeezed in just as Bruce-the-security-guy and his cronies put up the do-not-cross lines. An auntie behind us took great offense to this, and chose to tell us so, even though we explained to her that since there weren't even 1,000 people in line yet, it made NO difference to anyone there whether we cut or not; we simply wanted to stand together instead of separately. She nagged and nagged and nagged about "the principle of the matter" and attempted to rally the group behind her into kicking us out. We sniggered as she failed. She then tried to negotiate our ejection with the staff and bouncers who were there to keep the order. They explained to her that it honestly made no difference at that time, to which she cried foul, kicked and screamed, and gave her best attempt at an indignant expression.
"What if I call all my friends to come?" she wailed.
"Why don't you call all your friends to come?" they retorted.
"But what if they bring 999 more friends to join the line all of a sudden?" she continued... by which time the security guys had turned away and busied themselves doing other things, like checking for lint under their nails or checking that the line wasn't crooked. As she moaned, a few more people cut the line in front of us, and she eventually fell silent after informing us that we had ruined her weekend. Poor auntie.
Back to the topic. Virginia arrived late and took a place at the end of the line for her and Andrea, who also came late because she fell down the stairs. Which, theoretically, should only have expedited her arrival, but whatever. Michelle turned away girls who were selling flags/stickers for charity, which was a little bit mean, but then again, we are the people who want to stand in line for free stuff. We are obviously too cheap to give away our coins to charities we've never heard of.
At precisely noon we zoomed down Wyndham Street and got our Manifestos, and then took a bunch of photos so that instead of being "losers who line up for free shit," we could call ourselves "fashion bloggers documenting a brand phenomenon." A grandma nearby asked what people were lining up for, before commenting on how ugly the tote was and then leaving. Ha.
Afterwards, we found the mean auntie and killed her, stuffed her remains into a YSL tote, then went to brunch at Oolaa.
**Okay, okay, no aunties were harmed in the making of this post. Whatever you read in the paper is purely coincidence.