Field Notes
At the time, we had already secured exclusive screening rights for all of Asia, as we were preparing for the Bangkok edition of DFF. This gave us a unique position—since no one else had the rights, we had the leverage to define the terms and value of the project.
What started as a film screening turned into a business lesson on strategy, negotiation, and cultural nuance.
Alongside screenings in Singapore, this project brought me to Shanghai, Beijing, Mumbai, Kuala Lumpur, and Jakarta—each city offering its own insights on business, design, and the culture of luxury in Asia.
Here’s the trailer from Dior and I, and field notes from the tour—what we learned, what worked, and what each city revealed about the changing landscape of business, branding, and creative influence in Asia.
This was my second trip to India. The first was in 2014 as a juror for the Kyoorius Design Awards. Although the city's names are used interchangeably, locals prefer Bombay—its colonial-era name—over Mumbai.
Mumbai carries a unique energy unlike any other place. For first-time visitors, the city can feel messy, gritty, and unorganised. Traffic lights exist, but few follow them. Cows—revered in India—roam freely among cars and bicycles, even in the heart of the city. It takes time to adjust to Mumbai’s rhythm and unpredictability, but the longer you stay, the more beauty you find in unexpected places.
In an open space near the Gateway of India, thousands of pigeons gather every morning. In a small alley in Colaba, you’ll find Obataimu—a bespoke clothing store where nothing is off the rack. Inspired by the Japanese word for overtime, Obataimu follows the philosophy of slow fashion. Customers select a style and fabric, get measured, and return in a few days for a sample. The entire process takes a week, an intentional celebration of mindful craftsmanship.
The private screening of Dior and I was held at the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel—known locally as The Taj—for VIP guests of Christian Dior India and the media. The hotel, one of Mumbai’s most historic landmarks, was a target of the 2008 terrorist attacks. Since then, the building has come to symbolise the resilience of the people and the city itself.
On my last night in Mumbai, I had dinner with Kay Khoo, creative director of Kyoorius. He had recently relocated from Malaysia to Bombay with his wife and two daughters. Curious about his move, I asked:
"Why Bombay? Why move your entire family from Kuala Lumpur?"
His answer shifted my perspective on business and market potential:
“In India, the middle class is still growing, and the market opportunity is largely untapped. If you compare India with Singapore, Singapore is already mature and saturated. There is a limit to how many people you can reach, which means there is a limit to how much a company can invest in business growth. In Singapore, even if a telecommunications company wins the entire market, it can only ever reach 5.5 million people. That is the ceiling. In India, the potential is 1 billion. The investment a company is willing to make each year will keep growing because the market keeps growing.”
It was such an obvious yet overlooked insight. The size of the market—directly or indirectly—determines the value of your work.
If you provide value to a small audience with small margins, the return will also be small. If you operate within a market with limited growth, future investment will always hit a ceiling.
This conversation reshaped how I think about opportunities, not just in business, but in where and how creative work can have the most impact.
Producing a film event in China is much like anywhere else—except for one key difference: the 龙标 (dragon mark).
This government-issued certificate is required for foreign films screened in China. Each year, only 34 certificates are granted, restricting the number of non-Chinese productions shown publicly. The application process was complex. It required a local guarantor, a deposit, and multiple fees, most of which were ambiguous. Even with all requirements met, approval was never guaranteed—rejections were common, often without explanation.
To navigate this, we worked with a local broker who could facilitate the process and ensure success. With the right 礼物 (gift), anything was possible.
Luxury, at a Different Scale
The private screening in Shanghai was held for 100 VIP guests, a mix of customers, media, and partners. Hours before the event, I noticed something unusual—nearly 100 servers, meaning each guest had a dedicated personal attendant.Once the screening began, I saw that wasn’t all. Each guest also had a "manager", an assigned assistant catering to their needs throughout the event.
Curious about this level of service, I asked the marketing director about it.
His response was revealing:
“These guests spend an average of US$250,000 a year at our stores. Their managers act as personal assistants—helping with everything from outfit recommendations to shopping trips, even visiting their homes to curate their wardrobes.”
This was my first real glimpse into the scale of wealth in China. The sheer market size and spending power meant that brands could provide an experience unlike anywhere else. The level of luxury and service was on a scale I had never seen before.
A self-service Ito suitcase store with no staff, just an iPad for orders. Pay via WeChat Pay and have it delivered, no need to carry it home.
My first trip to China was in 2008, when we curated the Art with Sound exhibition with Japanese design studio artless. Back then, Shanghai was a different place:
- Cash-based society – Digital payments like AliPay and WeChat Pay were rare.
- No bike lanes – The streets were chaotic with cars, pedestrians, and the occasional electric scooter.
- Indoor smoking was still allowed in restaurants and public spaces.
- Fashion was simple – Most people wore T-shirts, jeans, and flip-flops.
Fast forward to 2015, and the transformation was unbelievable.
- Cash was obsolete – Shop owners and taxi drivers frowned at cash payments, expecting mobile transactions instead.
- Bike lanes dominated the city – Electric bikes and bicycles filled the streets, making movement seamless.
- Luxury fashion was everywhere – Walking down Nanjing Road, it felt more like New York than the Shanghai I once knew.
Shanghai had evolved into a futuristic, sophisticated metropolis in just seven years. Singapore has long been seen as a forward-thinking model city, but Shanghai felt one step ahead.
From cashless payments to local third-wave coffee roasters, from homegrown fashion brands to electric vehicles, the city had transformed itself into a global leader in innovation.
It felt like I was living in the future.
After the private screenings in Beijing, I had a free day and met Wenli of One & One Design, a designer whose work I had followed for years. His studio was a minimalist white loft, with the team working downstairs and his office on the upper floor.
Over tea, we spoke for two hours about design, art, and life in Singapore and Beijing. Despite my limited Mandarin, we understood each other easily. We shared similar experiences of running a small creative business, but one thing he said stayed with me.
While most designers reference artists, materials, or techniques, Wenli spoke about design through nature—how light and shadow shift, the rhythm of birdsong, the warmth of a teapot, and the patience of letting tea steep. To him, design wasn’t just a technical craft or a pursuit of clever ideas, but a reflection of the world around us—a way to translate and share its beauty.
His philosophy felt more relevant than ever. At a time when our planet is in crisis, we need to create with nature and the environment in mind. As I was leaving, he handed me a gift: a box of tea he had designed, adorned with a Chinese painting of a mountain.
Next Stops: Jakarta & Kuala Lumpur
The private screenings in Jakarta (23 March 2015) and Kuala Lumpur (9 September 2015) went smoothly—so smoothly, in fact, that there isn’t much to report. Which, in hindsight, is good for the event but makes for less interesting field notes.This might sound obvious, but it’s easy to lose sight of—and even harder to apply in today’s competitive, globalized world. So it bears repeating:
If the value you provide is scarce, you have leverage. You can set the price and terms. But if you're constantly asked to do more for less or lower your price, you're on the wrong side of the demand-supply curve. There’s more supply than demand, giving the buyer the power to dictate worth and conditions.
Take design, for example. Suppose your fee for designing a book is $XXXX. If there are 100 other designers in your city offering the same service, that’s already high competition. Now scale that globally—suddenly, you’re competing with 10,000 designers. If you're the client, with 10,000 options, you have three choices:
- Work with the best and most high-profile (which is subjective).
- Choose the cheapest option if the quality is the same.
- Request free samples or competitive pitches—because you can.
Unfortunately, the third option is the default for most clients, and many creative businesses feel forced to comply. When supply exceeds demand, quality and reputation become subjective, and in an economic downturn, the buyer always has leverage.
What’s the usual response?
Businesses try to be louder—rebranding, marketing harder, using clever copy to stand out. But if the core product or service remains the same, differentiation fades fast.
What’s the alternative?
Change the game.
- Offer a product or service that is scarce or doesn’t exist yet.
- Find a space where demand exceeds supply.
- Create value for the greatest number of people possible.
It sounds obvious. But in a crowded market, it's easy to forget.
—
Felix Ng
Co-founder, Anonymous
@felix.anonymous