In the lovely seaside town of Hoi An. This seems to be the tailor-shop capitol of Viet Nam. I ended up getting an inordinate amount of trousers made because I just needed, in fact, one clean pair of pants. As the perenial light packer, (positively anorexic compared to some fellow travellers) I found myself with one pair of servicable pants after losing the other pair to the muddy mountains of Sapa.
Shopping has been really nice in this area and being able to chat with the artisans and makers in my native tongue. I got to ‘talk the talk’ so to speak with the clothesmakers, being the daughter of tailors and made sure they didn’t let anything slip by me (“This isn’t silk, this is polyester!”, etc.). However, it was embarassing being measured up and hearing them gasp as to how ‘large-breasted’ , ‘broad-shouldered’ and ‘solid’ I am. Unsurprisingly, as a first-generation Australian, I have managed to morph physiologically to my Passport nationality and if the Australians by the pool are anything to go by, it means I’ve become a fellow, fair-dinkum, extra-large fatty.
Leave a Reply