| But my Mama, and all the women wearing tight QiPao's at the banquets were not mannequins. They weren't skinny either, some with their arms fat, drooping bellies and hips sticking out, and they didn't care. Why not?Today belonged to the sisterhood, to native tongue, to ourselves, not the beauty contest nor the cat fights. I liked Mama and her friends because they laughed a lot together. I couldn't explain their laughter, they spoke in a remote village dialect from Mainland China.
There was no need to chase after fashion, QiPao was the timeless fashion for my Mama. Everyone had one, and made it simple. Scattered embroidered flowers at the neck or sleeves, whimsy silk and satin, golden embossed side slits might add a little something. Mostly, it was plain and basic, in good taste.
Isn't it silly that we kids chase for individual expressions, and end uplooking all alike? Later I did try on a million different styles of clothes, and search a zillion ways to stand out among the crowd. Finally I went back to QiPao,now my favorite. No two QiPao's are exactly alike, and every QiPao speaks of a good-looking Chinese woman in old-world charm, now and then.
Ah, yes, I still lie a little about my chest, or sometimes I lazily slip on my tropical pants under a feather-weight QiPao to look like a girl from Saigon. Only now it is optional.END
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