Quotes of the Day
An excited Japanese military buff is rifling through a neat row of U.S. Army field shirts. "From the Vietnam War," he enthuses, wide-eyed over the frayed and faded garments. "All genuine." The market-stall's proprietor, however, is more guarded than giddy. Dabbing his face with a handkerchief, a flustered Mr. Udom isn't keen on strangers asking about his traffic in military surplus. He's delighted to talk prices (700 baht, which is $17, for said field shirts; 1,000 baht for a U.S. Air Force flight suit), but where he gets all the merchandise from, that's strictly confidential.
A young American backpacker rolls his eyes, leans over and sardonically whispers, "This op's run on a need-to-know basis, soldier." My mission—and I had gleefully chosen to accept it—was to go deep under cover in Bangkok's retail jungle with 4,100 baht (about $100) in pocket to reconnoitre Chatuchak Weekend Market in pursuit of vintage threads.
Constantly evolving and mutating, Chatuchak—probably the largest market on the planet—is split into 26 sectors sprawling over 112,000 square meters. There are more than 10,000 retailers, stocking everything from mass-produced teak furniture to great bolts of raw Thai silk, to bushels of imitation fruit and vegetables. The sartorial detritus of yesteryear, shipped to Thailand by U.S. and Japanese wholesalers, can be found in the 400 or so ramshackle stalls crammed into Sector 6.
Entering from the north, one of the first vintage-togs stalls is All About Denim run by laid-back Gai, whose sound system seems to play only two types of music: country and Western. Stocking seriously battered cowboy boots (from 500 baht, which is $12, upwards) and garish, gabardine shirts with pearled snap buttons (from 500 to 4,000 baht), this is the spot if you fancy kitting yourself out like singing cowboy Gene Autry. Just a few more meters into the mêlée nestles hole-in-the-wall outlet Golden Man. Its friendly proprietor, Preecha—his chuffed, pixie face framed by the type of wet perm favored by early 1980s R.-and-B. stars (think Lionel Richie)—sits cross-legged on the bare, concrete floor lazily sewing a cowhide saddlebag.
As I reach the southern end of Sector 6, a bloodcurdling screech rends the steamy, tropical air. Chatuchak is notorious for the exotic wildlife on sale, but the wailing is coming from the Ya Shop. Here, staff take turns in belting out tunes via a karaoke system, and a kid of about 12, decked out in 1970s Elvis shades, tight, dove-gray slacks and a snow-white Kangol cap, is happily murdering Van Morrison's Have I Told You Lately. Ya Shop stocks the widest range of cheesy, fitted polyester shirts in Chatuchak (from 100 baht, or $2.50, upwards). But rather than rely exclusively on the lure of synthetic fabrics, its business card proudly boasts that the store is "near the toilets," which, it should be noted, are kept amazingly clean considering that Chatuchak draws some 300,000 shoppers spending a total of more than $730,000 every weekend.
After four hours of trawling, the mission is all but accomplished. The spoils: a black leather blouson jacket from M. Bogen & Sons of Boston (asking price: 2,000 baht, or $49; final purchase price: 1,200 baht); a pair of olive-green U.S. Army cotton fatigues (700 baht, bargained down to 400); a pair of well-worn Levi's 501s (800 baht, down to 650); a "Made in Hawaii" rayon aloha shirt with coconut-shell buttons (1,000 baht, down to 700); a Lee denim jacket (600 baht, down to 400); a black canvas belt—very Helmut Lang (fixed price of 100 baht); one Fred Perry and two Ralph Lauren polo shirts (totaling 350 baht); and six U.S. college sports-team T shirts (the lot at 200 baht).
But then, with victory on the horizon, I blow it, throwing away the last 100 baht on a bunch of wax bananas. Well, every campaign has its casualties, and in Chatuchak it's likely to be your sanity as well as your hundred bucks.
- Gary Jones
- The battlefield: Bangkok. The mission: vintage clothing