Snuff bottles, tang horses, samurai masks and dowagers (all in a row)

Last night was the preview, and fancy donor dinner, for the opening of the Asian Art Fair.

R and I attended, in a sharp dark suit and sparkly party dress respectively.

I was not the sparkliest bird - women attending pulled no fashion punches, every remotely orient-related look showed. There were the appropriately dressed: a tiny Japanese woman elgantly coiffed in high, shellacked style by a hairdresser she'd flown in from Japan, wrapped in a kimono made for her in her teens - the silk painted specially to fall perfectly on her tiny figure.

Korean ladies lovely in hanboks, Vietnamese reed-ish in ao dao, golden Indian ladies in brocaded saris.

But there were also sparkly-aspiring of my own kind, appearing sort of aesthetically-askew in designer coolie hats, lots of shiny reds and anything Shanghai Tang.





The art took the show.

C - turning it over to the art.