Last week an acquaintance shared on Facebook some dating and marriage advice from what seemed to be the 1930s. "Always agree with your husband and, no matter how many children you have, be always fragrant and freshly coiffed when he comes home from a job that is bound to be harder than yours." And more of the same.
Strangely, the advice most ridiculed by commenters was this: "Never discuss clothes and fashion with your man." I thought this was spot on; in fact, I would extend the ban to all shopping. (If you're a man and are reading this, stop now. An ode to a shopping centre is coming.)
I used to dread visiting the Lo Wu Commercial Centre, just across the border from Hong Kong, to see my tailor. It was something about the little hands plucking at my sleeves; the voices barking, Rottweiler-like, in my ears, telling me to buy stuff I didn't want; the unbreathable air; and the way I could never find the tailor's shop so had to aimlessly wander the catacomb-like corridors until I happened on it by chance.
"If you hate it so much, why do you still go?" my friend E once asked me, not unreasonably, as I simpered at the memory of my latest visit. Why indeed? But then again, why was I taking affront at salespeople exercising their right to use the free market to try and nag me into submission? Even if I didn't really need an orange rhinestone-covered decorative chicken? It must be something about me.
And then it hit me. The reason I disliked people tugging at my arms or trying to stick six Hello Kitty handbags up my jumper the moment I showed a flicker of interest in browsing their selection of wallets, say, must be traceable, like most phobias, back to my childhood. Well, of course - when I was 12, a drunk driver hit me at a pedestrian crossing, throwing me onto tram tracks.
Armed with this realisation, I finally let go of my Lo Wu-centred fear of commotion and harassment. Now, I even enjoy looking at the bizarre-looking costume jewellery and feel at ease enough to take the time to tell people, "If you don't scratch me with your nails I will buy something."