China Girl

Last summer, before I left Toronto, I met my friend Tod's wife, Sally, for the first time. I'd been hearing about her for almost ten years from AC, but had never seen her. Tod and Sally live in Montreal, so that's not so surprising, but last August they came to visit.

We had a lovely dinner on the roof of the Park Hyatt hotel, the menu and details of which in no way affect the story I'm about to tell. It was after we bid good night to Tod and his wife, when AC and I were deconstructing and debriefing, that I made the following observation:

"She looks like she might be a little older than him. Is she, do you know?"

"She's fifteen years older," he replied, and I almost fell over from the shock — not at the idea that Tod would be with someone so much older, but because she doesn't look that old. At all. I mean, seriously, no way.

Sally is Chinese, and a fashion designer, and only the first part of that statement is relevant to this story.

Something about Asian women is age-defying. I've had this conversation from time to time with colleagues and friends, and no one has offered a viable explanation for this phenomenon. The simplistic answer is that we, as pasty white folk, simply aren't familiar enough with their physiology to be able to make age judgements, but I say that's hogwash. In my six years of teaching I've frequently had half my classroom populated by students from China. One of my closest friends is Chinese, and I lived in China for two months in 2002. I can recognize an ethnic Chinese and distinguish them from Japanese, Korean, and southeast Asian complexions. I just can't tell how old they are, is all.

Of course, the ones I'm most familiar with are the ones I know are approximately 20 years old. Twenty, going on 45.

There's an assignment I give my students that requires them to do a marketing analysis of a new product. I encourage them to choose a product that they can buy and use, rather than chosing something like a plasma TV or a new car. The boys tend to choose video games or electronic gadgets — a couple of years ago I graded no fewer than two dozen reports on the X-Box. The Canadian girls typically choose a girly product like high-tech mascara or something like this. But the Chinese girls choose products like Chanel Maximum Radiance Exfoliating Gel, which costs in the neighbourhood of $90 for a tiny one ounce tube, and Biotherm Hydra-Deto2x Detoxifying Moisturizing Fluid, which costs $47.

At first, I thought they were choosing these products capriciously, but after reading their reports I realized they choose them because they use them, which baffles me on two fronts: Why does a beautiful 20 year old feel she needs a high powered skin potion, and how the hell do they afford them on a student budget?

In their product reports they attempt unwittingly to answer the first question:

"But in the whole world now, the overall air index is more and more terrible, therefore, this kind of product may be needed in each area. For instance, Toronto's climate is relatively quite dry, and it is an industrial city; the air index is quite low. People's skin often appears rough and aged. Therefore, chooses a good radiance skin enhancing product is very important."

"People spend very long time in front of computers, especially young people. The radiation from the screens does a lot damages to our skin, as well as the polluted air. Unhealthy lifestyle also causes skin problem. As the result, skin is dull, dry and toxic. Consider these situations, detoxification products are necessary for young women."

and the second question:

"Women of low income also can choose it, because if women with low income cannot spend 40 dollars on cosmetics, which would be used in a month or less time, they might consider buying a good cosmetic which they can use for half a year, and which will make them more beautiful."

and, they explain why they, as opposed to, say, me, comprise the target market for these products:

"The target market for most Biotherm products is young people who are about 18-25 years old. Detoxification products help to block pollutions and radiations from computer or TV. In addition, this product is oil-free, it eliminates acne problems."

I'm sure it does, but so does Clearasil, which costs about $3 a bottle. I don't believe I've ever spent in the double digits for a single container of facial unguence. These girls are not living in the same world as me.

* * *
Today I was at the drugstore, the local Walgreen's, examining the lower-tier brands of moisturizer — I do have dry skin, I just don't believe it needs exfoliating, polishing, or deep reconstructive therapy on anything like a regular basis — when I became engrossed in eavesdropping on a conversation between the salesclerk, a Hispanic woman of about 45 and her customer, a young Chinese woman. It was fascinating, and truly funny, because English was obviously neither woman's first language. It went something like this:

"This is the one you want," began the clerk, or at least this is what she was saying at the time I started listening in. She was pointing to the tiny jars of Olay that are kept locked in a glass cabinet, which gives you an idea of their price points. She held the glass door propped open with one elbow, while with the other hand she pointed and selected.

"No, it say here," argued the customer. In her hand she held an empty jar of Olay brew. It was clear she had brought it with her, and was in search of its replacement.

"Yes, but this is the one," insisted the clerk. "That one has been discontinued."

"Continue?"

"Discontinued. They don't make it anymore."

"Oh!"

"This is same one, but is five more times powerful."

"More powerful?"

"Thats mean it work better. You understand?"

"Can I try it?" The younger woman was opening the packaging.

"Not here," the saleslady said again, with the patience of Sisyphus, "You have to buy it. You try it at home, and if you don't like it for any reason you can return it with the receipt for a full refund."

"Refund?"

"We give you your money back."

The Asian woman didn't seem convinced that this was the same product. She studied the label, and the clerk tried again to persuade her that, despite its slightly different appearance, the ingredients of the full bottle were exactly the same as what had been in the empty bottle. She did not go so far as to state what I'm sure she and I both suspected: the ingredients of all the fancy bottles in that glass cabinet are exactly the same as what had been in the empty bottle.

Instead, she pointed again to the packaging in the customer's hand, and said, "It has a powerful anti-aging complex. See, powerful anti-aging vitamin complex. It visibly fights the seven signs of aging."

"What is this, anti-aging?" asked the customer.

Because of the angle at which she was leaning, with her elbow jammed into the cabinet, the clerk was facing my direction. She now gave me a look of bemused desperation. I was powerless to help her.

"You know, age?" she said. "There is young, there is old. This is to make you look not old."

"Yes, yes. I need this?"

"You're not old," said the clerk then. It was merely a statement, and an accurate one.

To think, there are still people who scoff at the effectiveness of advertising.

* * *
Two years ago today, blog was the word of the year. In the next story, Postmodern Sass gets rained upon, and wonders where all the handsome men with umbrellas are hiding.