Fake it Until you Make it!

Ten years ago, I was the typical boy-friend you find waiting outside the shoe store while their partner went in to do their shopping. I had no interest in shoes whatsoever prior to opening my shoe shops. During then, I had three pairs of shoes; one for work, one for basketball and a pair of thongs for the weekend. #at was more than enough for me.

Everything changed after the opening my first shoe store. I went from being the guy outside the shoe shop to the guy on his knees helping customers to “t on their shoes for three years. Truth be told, I had no choice but to fake my enthusiasm for the staff and customers about my love for shoes. I simply could not lead a team without any knowledge, love and understanding about shoes.

I started researching in depth into the fashion, the style and the make of a good pair of shoes. Not only that, I went to the extent of  understanding the basic about podiatry. I was at a stage where I could determine people’s shoe size by looking at people’s feet. I do not exactly remember at what point of my life did I start walking with my head facing the %oor, checking out on everyone’s pair of shoes. But that was the whole turning point towards my passion for shoes. I currently own more pairs of shoes than all the Levi’s jeans add together in my closet (I have many, many pairs of Levi’s). Not a number I wish to brag about, considering the fact that a good number of the human population in the third world countries still do not have any shoes on their feet.

My vocabulary of shoes went from Air Jordan to wedges, stilettos, pump, %at, loafer, Mary Jane to clogs and mules, from Jimmy Choo, Salvatore Ferragamo to Manolo Blahnik (to be pronounced Blakhnik, with the K) and many more. Beyond a shoe connoisseur, I am officially now, a shoe addict! A break through lesson I learned from attending Anothony Robbins’ seminar 10 years ago was that behavior dictates emotion. You cannot remain in a depressed zone, if your body posture is straight, and you do funny faces in front of the mirror.
I guess the same principle applies in this scenario. When you fake passion long enough, you will catch on the love. Ask any of your grand parents who have been through arranged marriage to explain this notion further for you.

My father (above) is a tailor. My father’s father was a tailor. In a small town called Kuala Belait, the name Hoon Chin is synonymous with quality custom made clothing. A trade passed on from one generation to the next, over several decades of excellence in service and in craftsmanship.

Just the other day during a Hari-Raya visit, I drew an instant recognition from my neighbor’s father by mentioning my dad’s business. The man’s recollection of Hoon Chin was from the old days with the very thin gentlemen that took care of his family’s clothing, who happened to be my grand father.

Since young, mum & dad had always discouraged all our siblings from following their footsteps in this career. Because it is no easy money, the labor is lengthy and intensive, and you often end up at the mercy of your staff during busy seasons.

Furthermore, tailoring business will soon be a craft of the past, with ready to wear clothing being more affordable and available ubiquitously. I  have always preferred jeans to trousers. An issue that have raised a lot of conflict between my parents and I since young, especially come Sunday, when one is “expected” to dress up for God.

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My brother, Stellen and I. (the better looking one is me; not hard to distinguish)

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Whenever I watch kids interacting with each other in a family, I always admire those older siblings who can get their younger brothers and sisters to obey their instructions. I remember struggling even to convince my younger brothers to address me with the ‘brother’ title instead of calling me by my first name.

Stellen, my second brother beat me in almost all accounts as a kid (nothing changed); Chinese chess, basketball, table tennis, you name it. It is therefore not surprising that I couldn’t command true respect from him when I was perceived a ‘loser’ growing up. Looking back, that was probably the reason that hundreds of fights broke out between us in the name of ‘respect’ (aka pride).

I had a brilliant solution one time, and took it straight to my parents. The solution? To ask mum and dad to bestow the power to me to rule over my siblings so that they would give me the due respect and listen to my orders. I couldn’t remember if the verdict went through, but that of course didn’t work.

Part of the measure of a scout’s progress, is the amount of badges you acquired through tests, assessments and various participations. I remembered as a junior, I walked into a scout meeting one day with my head held high, having all kind of badges stitched onto my uniform (I got access to the badges through my dad’s tailor shop, don’t ask how). For a few minutes prior to the Skip’s arrival, I had the utmost respect and admiration of the fellow scout members.