A Dangerous World

The last time I was in Viet Nam, I returned home with two perfectly tailored suits and and a backless, princess-style "Oscar" dress tailored to my exact specifications. All for under $20. Since I've been in Viet Nam this time around, I have managed to resist the temptation to commission a tailor to make another dress - since I've yet to wear the first - but I have begun to feel the pull of the tailor as my days of opportunity are drawing to a close.

A few months back, I accompanied some friends on a maiden shopping voyage and was overwhelmed by the sheer quantity and variety of fabrics available in the markets here. Stalls, six feet wide and 15 feet high, jam packed with reams of cottons, silks, linens, polyesters, rayon and more in every imaginable color and design stand side-by-side in a dizzying maze of rows. The problem is not finding something you like, it is narrowing down the countless options of things that you like into one or two purchases. To prepare for the trip, I unleashed my normally dormant consumerist on websites for Macy's, Dillard's, Nordstrom, Victoria Secret (who knew they made dresses?), Gap, Anne Taylor and others and spent hours drooling over $500 dresses that I knew I could have copied for less than 15 US. But after one short afternoon, my internal minimalist and deep seeded frugality won out over materialistic greed, not out of a lack of desire, but out of sheer terror over the monster I could become if allowed to shop at will in this paradise of excess.

After that trip, I settled for a copy of a skirt and a t-shirt that I had brought along from my current wardrobe. I was happy with the result, but frightened enough by the experience that I refrained from dipping my toes into those waters again.

However, when I realized that I only had four weeks left in Viet Nam, I simultaneously realized that I only had four weeks left to get clothes made in Viet Nam. I decided to forge back into the market for one last trip, my rational being that I would save so much money in the future, if I came home with a perfectly tailored wardrobe for under 100 US.

I met up with my old shopping partners and we made our way to a new market in district three. I was armed with printouts of dresses, pants, skirts and tops that would sell for over $100 a piece in the stores, that I would never dream of owning in other circumstances. Back in the market, I was again overwhelmed by the unimaginable volume of fabrics, ream after ream, shelf after shelf, rows behind rows. After walking around in a daze for the first few minutes, Katherine took me aside.

"Ok, Sharon. We have to do this rationally. Pick one thing that you need and let's go find it. Then we'll move on to the next thing. If you just look, you'll never find anything. We've got to do this one thing at a time."

Grateful to have the calming, rational advice of my new self-appointed personal shopper, I decided to look for the simplest thing on my list - linen for some white linen pants. White linen found. Two meters at $2 a meter. Purchased. Next, some sheer black silk for a dress. And on we went. Forty minutes later, I had fabric for white linen pants, a black silk party dress, a casual cotton dress, and two short cotton skirts. It wasn't my complete list, but it was enough for one day and we all made our way back out of the market, Shannon declaring "Look straight ahead, girls. No stopping for anything!"

The following Tuesday, having a day off from work, I took the material to the tailor where I was measured for each of my garments and quoted a price of 820,000 Vietnamese Dong or 46 US for two dresses, two skirts and a pair of pants and a date to return in two weeks. As I walked out the door, I found myself planning a return trip. What woman couldn't use a few more dresses...?