Bobbin' and Weavin'
Since we arrived in stylin' Shanghai, we've been on the lookout for the kind of flair that's earned this place the title of the "Paris of the East." So Candide's keen-eyed trend-spotters hit the streets in search of style -- or lack thereof. Join fashion policeman Drew -- here shown wearing a duo-tone, velvet Mao suit by Candide, with sneakers by Converse -- as he cites Shanghaiese for crimes of fashion.
Not surprisingly, China takes its men in uniform very seriously. So it's only fitting that the city's best-dressed were the ones packing real party power. The green uniforms with accents of red and gold make both the soldier and the traffic cop seem elegant yet authoritative, attractive and brave. We also liked the use of nifty red armbands for those comrades appointed to keep the peace among their neighbors.
Rumor has it the Chinese government has asked Italy's wild-man Gianni Versace to design the next line of Chinese army uniforms.
Baldness does not seem to be a problem for most Chinese. 
Perhaps that's why most of those men who do suffer from thinning hair are clueless about concealing it. Rather than investing in more subtle remedies to appease their vanity, like Monoxidil drops, or artful comb-overs, many of Shanghai's chrome domes prefer to don wigs.
Were the Chinese as gifted with weaving hair as they are with silk, there would be nothing to say. But most of the wigged men we saw looked like they'd been painted with dried shoe polish or fitted with horse-hair helmets.
Mao's rise to power inspired a fashion revolution that's outlasted most trends. Though originally invented by Sun Yat-sen, the government-issue "Mao suits," as they came to be called, were popular during the Cultural Revolution as symbols of solidarity and dedication to the Party. Today, the sturdy gray and blue suits are still worn by China's older set.
We all found the Mao suits quite classic and stylish. In fact, Drew was so fond of its boxy shape, its formal, yet unassuming style, that he had one made for himself -- in purple and blue velvet -- from one of Shanghai's street tailors. Liberation or Liberace? You be the judge.
Just as clothing in Beijing was more utilitarian -- loose fitting pants, sweatshirts -- in varying shades of gray and blue, street wear in Shanghai is more image and look. The colors are brighter, the styles distinctly Eurowear, and the message MTV.
Candide was pretty neutral on Shanghai streetwear. We even preferred Beijing's Mao suits and muted tones to Shanghai's miniskirts, and smelly hairspray reminiscent of the self-consciousness we thought we'd left back in New York.
You would think that the silk capital of the world would know a thing or two about stockings. No chance. Though Shanghai ladies have no qualms about flashing their shapely legs in miniskirts or thigh-high slits, most wear thick, tan colored, itchy-looking things that leave unsightly elephant wrinkles around the knees and ankles.
We haven't yet decided -- are these things considered fashionable? Or are the best hose saved for export?
