young cocky go-fers bustling about to ensure convenience and comfort. And still, through it all, she remains unflappable, amused. Her po-liteness is a shield that even the hardest Big Boss is reluctant to test. But still, these Hong Kongers are so excitable, so lively. She is con-tent to drift along with it, attracting all the free banquets and rumors.
The first meeting: To Halley, fashion means nothing more than throwing on a white button-down shirt when the occasion calls for it, but a friend of a friend is in need: can she help film a fashion show at the local gallery? So she drags out her pocket DV camera, not the high-quality 3-CCD model she owns, because to her this is merely a quick and compact formality. But may-be something subconscious is at work - her best-filmed moments occur on the pocket camera. And sure enough, as she glumly films
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the models, collagen pouts and Botox foreheads amid spotlights that dance like an epileptic attack, she sees Miho in the crowd. The older woman is completely still and attentive, the tip of a pen poised at her lips. She's the designer, she is told, and as if by magic, Miho turns to face her, from across the room, and nods a hello, as if they are old friends, or sharing an innocent secret. Wow, she thinks.
Halley: Lives in a studio apartment, but "shoe-box" is more apt. She has not held down a job for years. She is not rebellious or political or in-capable. Jobs just slip away from her, like soap through fingers. Her dresser is stuffed with speeding tickets, and unbeknownst to her, a warrant is out for her arrest (she has escaped through blind luck: typo in her official address, Spruce Street for Pine Street). She is dimly aware that she has fines to pay, but they are mere
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