I grew up in a walled village called Ping Shan in Yuen Long in the 60s. The people there were quite rich. We had lots of farmland. But we didn't have infrastructure, such as running water and electricity. We drank from a well and used lanterns for lighting - just like in an old black-and-white movie. I helped on the farm until I was about 12. I enjoyed it very much. Catching fish in the stream and birds in the bush was my pastime. When it got dark, all I could see was a starry sky. But when I started kindergarten, I witnessed the "modernization" of my village. We got water and electricity supplies, and the growth was rapid. When I reached Form Four, I went to Ontario, Canada, for education. My great-uncles were the first overseas Chinese students at Harvard. The farmland we used to own has been converted into a car park. I have written so often to protest the Government's stupid urban-planning policies. The officials only have urbanization in mind and know nothing about preservation. I feel very sad. My years in Canada gave me a lot of freedom - I could do whatever I wanted. I did a course in English literature. I worked very hard but got only a pass. I was so disappointed. My teacher then said something that influenced me deeply, "Studying is about your own input, not what others think. You decide what's right or wrong." I'm a very frank person. I say what I feel. And you can't make me do what I don't like doing. From a very young age, I knew no one but myself had the right to tell me what to do. I never take orders. My father thought I was a rebel. The professional fields have a lot of rules and frameworks into which I have to fit. I don't like that. I spent my first summer in Europe when I was studying in Canada. I liked it so much I almost didn't want to go back to Canada. I obtained a degree in environmental economics eventually, to fulfill my duty as a son. Then I studied fashion in London. I have always been interested in art. I like to draw. I felt the urge to live in Europe. A small town in North America feels barren and lonely, whereas one in Europe feels refined and warm. I first gained fame in Hong Kong in 1985, after my first fashion show. It was like overnight success, and the press treated me well. I also designed the fashion for the Miss Hong Kong Beauty Pageant. In the 90s, the overseas reporters who were here to report on the handover also became interested in my fashion, and I gained international exposure. Hong Kong has an indescribable magic lure. Every time I go overseas, something drags me back - a promising job, my family, my grandmother. When I see something bad in Hong Kong, I feel sorry because this is my place. Hong Kong people are smart. We don't need much guidance. Jimmy Choo once offered me a shop space in London, but I won a big fashion project in China and ended up not going. That's how I started my long-term business in China. I've just opened a new production line in Guangzhou and even bought a house to make sure I'll stay. Tai-tais and socialites only need me as someone to tell their secrets to. When I first started working in Hong Kong, I received calls in the middle of the night from tai-tais, telling me they had trouble sleeping, their husbands’ not coming home, or suspecting their boyfriends were gay. I just don't want to entertain them in this capacity. It isn't part of my job. I seldom go to fashion parties. You won't see me at Gucci or Louis Vuitton functions. I can't say I like this game; I don't like to see the same people wearing the same clothes. I'm so tired of them. You only live once. I'll only live the way I want to live.