One of the difficulties with this week's interview is that I'm not quite sure how to refer to the subject of it. For many readers of the Chinese newspapers, the woman pictured here will forever be known as Teresa Bee. She was actually born Teresa Cheung Siu-wai, a name she later changed to Cheung Yung-fong and then to Suen-tong. Last year she announced that she was reverting to her original name, but to keep matters simple, the title of her new shop in The Galleria simply states 'Teresa'.
If you do not read the Chinese press you will, of course, be in a pleasant state of aroused interest in this pretty woman who can't make up her mind what to call herself. If, however, you read such papers you already know the gory details. Even this august publication has occasionally referred to Cheung's divorce from the singer Kenny Bee; to her relationship with businessman Edmund Chan while his wife, Susanna, was dying of cancer; to her claims that he assaulted her; and to the many lawsuits in which Cheung has become embroiled. My own favourite is the libel action which was filed by both Cheung and her father, Francis Cheung Kin-kwok, as a result of defamatory comments said to have been made on the TV show Fat Mother Phone Flirtation.
Anyway, between visits to her solicitor, Cheung opened her own emporium where we met recently. She was on the phone, so I admired the clothes, especially the beautiful Collette Dinnigan dresses, gasped over the price of Damart vests (HK$850), and stroked the piles of shawls which were entitled 'Shahpashm' and were, so a large notice assured me, made by shahtoosh workers but were '100 per cent legal - no killing involved'. Alas, the same cannot be said for the mink trim on the suits nearby, but I suppose you can't have everything.
'I felt so proud of myself about that,' revealed Cheung as we had tea downstairs in Joyce Cafe later. (Cheung, with a practised air, headed immediately for a secluded table at the back, so that we wouldn't be interrupted by a constant stream of people greeting and gawping.) 'I was using shahtoosh a long time ago. Newspapers photographed me and then everybody was looking for one. I have this ability to arouse interest, so I turned on the whole popularity of shahtoosh in Hong Kong.' I gulped a little, wondering if law-enforcement officers from the Department of Ag and Fish read Post Magazine, but Cheung went on: 'Then it was banned, and all the shahtoosh workers were out of a job, so I talked to this Indian man and said 'you must create a new invention to replace shahtoosh, the demand is huge.' ' The rather oddly-named Shahpashm, for which she claims she has the copyright, is the result.
Opening up a shop and being behind its counter most days is not an obvious career choice for a woman who says she's constantly fleeing the paparazzi. 'But it's better than them following me everywhere, and I'm not gaining a thing!' cried Cheung. 'At least now I'm getting something in return. This is more profitable.' I thought that a wonderfully pragmatic point of view that was, but it's also true to say that Cheung's relationship with her press is somewhat complex. 'I laugh jollier when people hate me more,' she observed merrily. At one point when I asked her if she was nervous appearing in public, she looked at me as if I were daft. Halfway through our meeting, however, I heard her make another interview arrangement with The Sun newspaper. I think it's no exaggeration to observe that The Sun is to sober reporting what Tung Chee-hwa is to deep-sea diving, but when I expressed surprise, Cheung said it was for the celebrity section which apparently made it okay.
In fact, she's in grave danger of turning into a hack herself. She's about to start contributing to a Web site set up by the Emperor Group, and she writes a lifestyle column for Eastweek magazine. 'This was my turning-point,' she announced. 'When everyone saw my articles they thought, Jesus Christ! She knows how to write! I received a lot of compliments from the literary field. The way I write is amateur-like, but people like that, it's fresh.' With the proceeds from such exertions, including a brief foray into fashion television and, bizarrely, a ribbon-cutting ceremony in Guangzhou ('That was the beginning of everything, that was when everybody was attacking me for being jobless, they attack me for wearing Voyage so beautifully'), she decided to open what she calls her 'select shop'. 'Select means that instead of promoting the designers, we're promoting the buyer's taste and her mix-and-match qualities.' That buyer, of course, is Cheung. 'I'm the QC of the company,' she cried. I had a moment of confusion when I thought she was referring to her appetite for litigation, but she kindly added, 'QC is quality control. I try on everything myself. I like clothes which are figure-hugging and look good on the body.' She shrugged off her top layer saying, 'It's a rag coat, a rag coat.' It turned out to be Voyage and therefore cost, at a conservative estimate, HK$25,000. She ran her fingers around the lacy cleavage of her dress and quipped, 'It's by Luisa Beccaria. I have so much luck, I picked up a little pamphlet about her and I thought, Jesus Christ, this is what I'm dreaming of!' Further divine ejaculations peppered her momentous meeting with super-hot Australian designer Collette Dinnigan. 'I went to her showroom and she said, 'Jesus Christ! It's so good to see my stuff on a human being!' We talk, talk, talk, non-stop. I knew exactly how her cutting was, she says, 'Oh Jesus! How do you know so much?' She's giggling, she's like a child-woman.' Is Cheung, who has two children aged five and 10, also a child-woman? 'I think we all are,' she replied softly. 'We have to be.' We pondered this for a moment and then I asked what she was like as a child. 'Before I could hold a pair of chopsticks, I already knew how to braid my hair. Throughout my childhood, my teenage years, I have an eye for everything. Whatever I pick up, my classmates and peers compliment me and follow me. I think it's this blessing I have which helps me in my career.' Gosh, I said, humbly, at the same time feeling rather glad I hadn't been at school with her. 'Yes,' she agreed. 'I used to think that love and relationships were the most important thing to happen to a woman, but if you enjoy the children and have a career of your own, you could be just as satisfied and accomplished. I was at a designer showroom in London recently and I said to myself, Jesus! Life is so wonderful! It just comes to me naturally!'