SINGAPORE, 2004a
The first time Astrid laid eyes on Michael, he was in aageofcamouflage-print speedo. The sight of anyone over theten in one of these banana hammocks was usually repellant toAstrid‘s aesthetic sensibilities, but when Michael strutted downthe runway in his Custo Barcelona speedo, his arm around anAmazonian girl clad in a sheer black Rosa Cha bathing suitand emerald necklace, Astrid was transfixed.
She had been dragged to Churchill Club for a charity fash-ion show organized by one of her Leong cousins and had satbored stiff throughout the proceedings. For someone used to afront-row seat at Jean Paul Gaultier‘s elaborate flights of stage-craft, this hastily constructed catwalk lit with yellow gels, fakepalm fronds, and flashing strobe lights seemed like under-