 |
| The road to hipster hub of Sheung Wan |
Some of my frustrations during visits to Sheung Wan are trivial. For example, after trekking uphill hoping to enjoy a cup of tea at a cafe, I find the cafe closed without prior notice (though in retrospect, it makes sense. Hipsters don't follow conventional understandings and flows of time.) Or when there are so many other hipsters and their brethren who linger around, making the area rather packed at times...and dare I say, render the area almost mainstream. Or the nasty feeling that develops when you realize how another individual has done the seemingly impossible; out-hip you with their clothes, their attitude, their speech...
Beyond these superficial issues, there exist a sense of dissatisfaction regarding the state of hipster hubs, especially in the way in which they present themselves as an 'alternative' to the chain franchises rampant in the city these days. I can't help but wonder; after setting up a series of independent shops in an area to create this 'hip' impression, what is next? Is there actually a concerted effort on the part of these shops to push and encourage others to follow in their footsteps of establishing small joints to combat the prevalence of chain franchises? (Is this even their motivation at all...or does it matter in the first place?) And if they are to act in opposition to the latter category, just how do these spaces embody a creative [re]invention of how businesses can be run in this city? Are they really an alternative?
 |
| Tai Ping Shan Street, an example of a thriving hipster hub |
The development of 'rootedness' is complicated and problematic, and I'll try to illustrate this using Tai Ping Shan Street. On the infrastructural level, the new establishments preserve the format of pre-existing businesses and residence buildings.The newer cafes and galleries are situated next to older scrap metal collection shops; there are no sudden high-rises and obscenely shiny façades to be found, bringing a degree of visual coherence between the new and the old. Despite this, I suspect there remains a sense of disconnect; to what extent are these new spaces used by, and engages with, the locals who have resided in the area for years? For example, there are a lot of locals and workers munching down pork chop rice meals at an old-fashioned diner at the bottom of the staircase, but not so much at Teakha (the old men I encountered in the area could only tell me that the tea shop 'opens late'. And during all my visits, it is frequented by young professionals and students.) Is it because there is a lack of repertoire between these new places with the old; a case where you can't force a sense of community or a connection to develop just by suddenly planting yourself to a place? Is it a matter of these new places not offering what the old-timers need? Or is it due to pragmatic issues such as price, since the newer places charge higher sums in order to survive in this city of insane land rent? (Thinking along this vein, would these new hip places eventually push out the older small businesses in the area, or change the profile of the local demography towards that of young professionals; thus unwittingly forcing a unexpected form of gentrification to occur? Maybe this outlook is far-fetched and a tad extreme...)
 |
| Teakha offers nice drinks, albeit at a higher price than the traditional dai pai dongs (大牌檔, the traditional inexpensive Hong Kong diners that are becoming increasingly scarce) and cha chaan tengs (茶餐廳, restaurants that serve tea and can have menus encompassing Western, Chinese, and 'mixed' dishes.) |
Another form of 'rootedness' would emphasise the local as opposed to the international. To what extent does the current string of modern independent shops reflect local Hong Kong culture? Many galleries and cafes in these hipster areas are like those found across the globe. Once you enter one of these spaces in Hong Kong, does it feel any different than if you were in Sydney or London? It could be an innocent intention, such as the creators of such spaces wanting to bring a different experience to their patrons; or it could call to a persisting subconscious/conscious recognition of overseas locales being the harbingers of 'culture'.
I'm not sure if the lack of local character for many of these hipster spaces is deliberate, but it cannot be denied that there has been a long-running worship of the international in the Hong Kong psyche. It is maybe a remnant from the days of colonial rule where speaking English was coveted, or maybe due to the continued proliferation of 'foreign knowledge' in our education systems that has created a misguided myth of the cultural apex that exists 'elsewhere'. (Looking at the university curriculum, the names Marx, Foucault, Bourdieu, Wittgenstein, Arendt crop up. Not as extensive a roster from the Asian region.) Heck, it could even have something to do with the media we are exposed to, or the 'transient refugee mentality' of the city's heritage that left a mark of cultural 'inferiority'. (I've had the occasion to meet a researcher at Hong Kong University who once told me that Hong Kong 'has no culture'; by no means representative of the stance of academia on this issue, but it was scary to know that there are people that think like this. And in a quick survey conducted by Wooferten after taking the Yau Ma Tei locals to ArtWalk 2012 in Central, many of the attendees reckoned that there were more Europeans as opposed to Asians that evening because the former had a higher standard of 'cultural education'.)
Whatever the reason, the majority of the population has easily allocated local diners, such as cha chaan tengs and dai pai dongs, as 'low-culture' venues, and having a cup of coffee in Starbucks is a vague symbol alluding to 'high-culture'. (Though it isn't as bleak as I just made it sound. There are increasing numbers of young people who visit the former for the sake of a novelty experience, or to understand more about Hong Kong history. Or maybe they just like the cheaper prices...) And for those hipster hub shop owners, even if you are not literally situated in the 'cultured international', having your space be designed to have semblance to that ideal is just as good. But referring to what I was trying to get at earlier; if an independent space focuses too much on the international at the expense of the local, it will limit its impact and meaning on the local social narrative. When such a space is threatened with closure, will the locals fight to protect it like they would for landmarks such as Sunbeam Theatre in North Point? Will they continue to remember its existence, and mourn for it after it is gone?
 |
| Abandoned kitties...and abandoned culture of locality? |
But if we wish to bring the 'local' into hipster hubs, this poses a new set of questions in itself. Just how can we go about doing this, and would it necessarily make these independent businesses unique to the point where their survival and propagation can be cemented into this urban landscape? Or does the creation of a hipster hub necessitate an international face superseding the local character, given that the 'hipster experience' in itself is an entity imported from overseas? (There are even jokes made about the possible ethnic group associations with the hipster way of living...see Stuff White People Like, for starters.) Should we thus discard this notion of 'hip' and the ideals of the hipster? And to ask even broader questions, what does local Hong Kong culture look like anyways...how do we understand culture for that matter?
For all these concerns, however, there are existing examples that shows how the mentality of 'cultureless Hong Kong' is changing. In the recent edition of Ming Pao Weekly #2275, there is a piece about a shop in Kowloon that transforms the Hong Kong iconic red-white-blue bag material into trendier items of modern convenience. And there were plenty of young people at the JCCAC handicrafts fair to show that there can exist a balance between the international and the local; to appropriate the techniques and cultural practices from abroad to create products that evokes locality. Not to mention how Hidden Agenda, a performing and exhibition space in Kwun Tong, manages to place equal importance on inviting a good range of local and international bands/artists. So maybe the local and the international emphasis don't have be juxtaposing categories, and a balance between the two is attainable.
Okay, so I guess my beef can be summed up as; these hipster hoods can't only be about the appearance, but they must have substance and thought to it. A simple statement that somehow needed several paragraphs to articulate.
Despite all the grumblings and judgement coming from me (the latter being a hallmark of all hipsters-in-training), hipster hubs really are lovely places to go and remove yourself from the hectic pace that the rest of Hong Kong follows. And my misgivings about hipster hubs can be mollified under a holistic perspective; no matter how problematised such areas may be, for now, they do offer a reprieve from the increasingly uniformed face of shop fronts in current Hong Kong.
