I hadn’t planned on buying a jacket from the Phuoc An Cloth Shop in Hoi An. I had simply paused to regard a suit worn by a stiff, white mannequin. Out of habit, I felt the fabric – corduroy, chocolate brown – and began to walk away before I was accosted by a shop assistant.
“Hello Sir!” It was a young woman. She was slim and pretty and – like most of the girls working in the Hoi An fabric shops – wore an Ao Dai, a long, elegant Vietnamese dress made of silk. “You like? You want to buy?”
“Just looking, thanks,” I replied. But then I made the mistake of enquiring about the price. Before I knew it I was whisked away upstairs, handed jackets to try on, picking out colours and fabrics and then measured up. Within a few minutes I was laying down a deposit for a tailored jacket.
“Come back lunch time tomorrow,” said the shop assistant. “It will be ready.”
Hoi An, roughly halfway up the east coast of Vietnam, has become famous for the many tailor shops selling custom fitted clothing and shoes, and the speed in which they’re produced. The majority of tourists I met on the road in Vietnam had left the town with at least one tailored item. Even the stingiest of backpackers could not turn down a tailor-made suit for 50 US dollars or elegant silk blouse for 30.
Hoi An is most famous for its history. Its status as an international trading port between the 17th and 19th centuries saw significant contact with European, Chinese and Japanese traders and this remains evident in the town’s architecture. The town’s heritage emerged from the Vietnam War unscathed and many buildings – some dating back to the 15th century – including Chinese pagodas, grand merchant houses and a Japanese Bridge are open to the public. Hoi An’s history is recognized by the Vietnamese Government and, in 1999, it was inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage list.
As you walk down Tran Phu or Nguyen Thai Hoc streets it is fun – and not too difficult – to imagine oneself as an European trader strutting off to do some business after docking at the bustling port. The charming concrete shop houses with their slanted Chinese-style roofs are painted pastels of blue and yellow and often splashed with the bright pink or white flowers of bougainvillea. Many buildings have moldy facades and paint peeling from them, but this only adds to the charm of the place.
Indeed, Hoi An is a pleasant place to wonder. Many streets are closed off to motorized traffic and hawkers and shopkeepers aren’t nearly as aggressive as those in other Vietnamese cities. You can easily spend a couple of hours at a cafe, sipping Vietnamese coffee and watching the world go by. And there are few places in the world, where that cliché – watching the world go by – can be better applied to than a town in Vietnam. From your vantage point at a roadside café you see almost everything pass by – usually on a motorbike: families of five, pigs and chickens, pineapples and baguettes, freshly cut flowers and trendy teenage couples brandishing cell phones.
We stayed three days in Hoi An. On our last day we walked along the Thu Bon River to the busy little market. It must have been lunch time as many of the stall owners were eating lunch. Most were digging their chopsticks into a bowl of the local dish, cao lau. I had tried the dish the night before and found it delicious. It consists of thick white noodles served with Vietnamese croutons, slices of roast pork and topped with fresh herbs and Asian greens. Needless to say, you add fish sauce to taste.
Before leaving Hoi An I had to stop in at the tailor shop to pick up my jacket. I tried it on to make sure it fit well.
“Wow, it really suits you,” chirped the shop assistant. “Very handsome. Goes with your eyes.”
The suit was fine and I thanked her but as I noticed another male backpacker trying on a suit and being flattered and fussed over by two female shop assistants, I could not help but ponder how many a tourist found themselves forking out cash for a suit under the spell of these flirtatious young women.
“Hello Sir!” It was a young woman. She was slim and pretty and – like most of the girls working in the Hoi An fabric shops – wore an Ao Dai, a long, elegant Vietnamese dress made of silk. “You like? You want to buy?”
“Just looking, thanks,” I replied. But then I made the mistake of enquiring about the price. Before I knew it I was whisked away upstairs, handed jackets to try on, picking out colours and fabrics and then measured up. Within a few minutes I was laying down a deposit for a tailored jacket.
“Come back lunch time tomorrow,” said the shop assistant. “It will be ready.”
Hoi An, roughly halfway up the east coast of Vietnam, has become famous for the many tailor shops selling custom fitted clothing and shoes, and the speed in which they’re produced. The majority of tourists I met on the road in Vietnam had left the town with at least one tailored item. Even the stingiest of backpackers could not turn down a tailor-made suit for 50 US dollars or elegant silk blouse for 30.
Hoi An is most famous for its history. Its status as an international trading port between the 17th and 19th centuries saw significant contact with European, Chinese and Japanese traders and this remains evident in the town’s architecture. The town’s heritage emerged from the Vietnam War unscathed and many buildings – some dating back to the 15th century – including Chinese pagodas, grand merchant houses and a Japanese Bridge are open to the public. Hoi An’s history is recognized by the Vietnamese Government and, in 1999, it was inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage list.
As you walk down Tran Phu or Nguyen Thai Hoc streets it is fun – and not too difficult – to imagine oneself as an European trader strutting off to do some business after docking at the bustling port. The charming concrete shop houses with their slanted Chinese-style roofs are painted pastels of blue and yellow and often splashed with the bright pink or white flowers of bougainvillea. Many buildings have moldy facades and paint peeling from them, but this only adds to the charm of the place.
Indeed, Hoi An is a pleasant place to wonder. Many streets are closed off to motorized traffic and hawkers and shopkeepers aren’t nearly as aggressive as those in other Vietnamese cities. You can easily spend a couple of hours at a cafe, sipping Vietnamese coffee and watching the world go by. And there are few places in the world, where that cliché – watching the world go by – can be better applied to than a town in Vietnam. From your vantage point at a roadside café you see almost everything pass by – usually on a motorbike: families of five, pigs and chickens, pineapples and baguettes, freshly cut flowers and trendy teenage couples brandishing cell phones.
We stayed three days in Hoi An. On our last day we walked along the Thu Bon River to the busy little market. It must have been lunch time as many of the stall owners were eating lunch. Most were digging their chopsticks into a bowl of the local dish, cao lau. I had tried the dish the night before and found it delicious. It consists of thick white noodles served with Vietnamese croutons, slices of roast pork and topped with fresh herbs and Asian greens. Needless to say, you add fish sauce to taste.
Before leaving Hoi An I had to stop in at the tailor shop to pick up my jacket. I tried it on to make sure it fit well.
“Wow, it really suits you,” chirped the shop assistant. “Very handsome. Goes with your eyes.”
The suit was fine and I thanked her but as I noticed another male backpacker trying on a suit and being flattered and fussed over by two female shop assistants, I could not help but ponder how many a tourist found themselves forking out cash for a suit under the spell of these flirtatious young women.
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