Today was a mission. Well actually, every day in China is a mission. But today’s specific mission objectives were to acquire proper gear to wear. In Qingdao, it is impossible to find clothing with any style. The mentality here is to only wear what other people are already wearing, or a very basic derivative of that. I would sum up Qingdao’s style as typical Chinese redneck conservative, with weak Korean influences. The most popular places to shop are bargain bins. I hoped that I could grab some necessities in Shanghai, as some of my AA stuff is starting to decompose, and many of my boxers have formed “speed holes”.

To get anywhere, I would first have to navigate my way out of the hotel. This would prove to be a difficult task, as the hotel was directly on Nanjing Dong Lu. With the may holiday in full swing, this street was stretched beyond reasonable human capacity. Imagine touts popping out of garbage cans, trying to sell you merchandise they just found. Cars and motorcycles materializing out of thin air on the pedestrian only part, hurtling towards you at high velocities. Little kids peeing and pooping everywhere, in the watchful gaze of their parents, while they themselves did the same. Thanks to my spy training and superpowers I even managed to take some pictures of this mayhem.

Shanghai definitely has some nice style. Too bad I have no idea where you can buy any of it. The only store I found that had potential was called Sugar, near Jing An Temple. I was told they carried some decent gear. They had some older season stuff from Number (N)ine and BAPE. In total the store had about 25 t-shirts and 5 pairs of jeans. I’m talking complete stock, not different kinds. They also had 3 staff who were doing absolutely nothing but couldn’t be bothered to provide any kind of assistance or meaningful answers as to why I should pay $300 for an old t-shirt. I’m going to go out on a limb and make a hypothesis that could only come from a true genius. China has been so closed off in the past, and the groupthink here is so great, that the dearth of originality has made the fashion here abominable.

With the first objective of my mission failed, I moved on in search of boxers. I found a mall that would be similar to a Sears or Bay department store back home. After making my way up through several floors of cosmetics, I found some decent boxers, of which I bought three pairs. The salesperson got mad at me though, because she said I should take a medium, and I accused her of trying to squash my boys, and instead I insisted on XL. It was a good thing I got the extra size too, because when I got home and tried them on, they still fit a little snug. I’m not sure what the saleslady was thinking, but I guess Chinese guys like to have their packages compressed so far in that they’re in a perpetual man-gina formation.

I also came across a Bose store, where I immediately bought a pair of noise reduction headphones. These things are heaven on the ears, they almost completely block out ambient noise, and this country has more than it’s share of that. I would have been nice if I had them a little earlier though, because the idiots down in Century Plaza outside my hotel room decided to have their drumming playoff at 9am. It doesn’t matter what time it is, people want to hear that clatter as much as they want to hear the one legged homeless guy beating away at the turned over paint can on the corner of the street.

In the PM, I went for vodka, and made it out to a d n’ b jam at a place called Pirates. The music was good, and it was nice to finally hear something other than the whiny cantopop or the sped up mid-nineties techno that all the Chinese clubs play. Too bad it was less then half full, and mostly westerners. It started to pour rain outside, and that drained the life out of everyone, so I returned to my outpost of the banks of the sea of humanity and recuperated for what was to be the final night in Shanghai.

Filed under: tourist shit