By Terry McCoy
FOR THE TRIBUNE-REVIEW
Monday, February 15, 2010
KAMPONG THOM PROVINCE, Cambodia — Lay Lida stares into the mirror, studying details discernible only to a teenage girl.
The 17-year-old's ensemble must be perfect. She's meeting friends later. There could be boys. But her outfit is missing a key component: The right surgical mask.
Glancing past the blue masks in her parents' shop here, she chooses a pink one. It just feels like a pink sort of day, she says.
"Masks make me more beautiful," she says later. "They make me look good."
Call it the anti-fashion trend — hiding, rather than augmenting, someone's look. This marriage of practicality and chic — bolstered by fears of the H1N1 virus, air pollution and the dusty grip of the dry season — has swept across Cambodia and other parts of Asia, fashion experts said.
Appearances matter, according to this rule, even when the fashionable item hides them.
"This is a kind of fashion," said Amra Doeur, who works with Tom & Alice Custom Tailors in Phnom Penh. "Everyone wears masks to protect their body, but the fashion is that they choose what mask is the best."
Novelty masks have crept into shops and stores across Cambodia to meet a youthful demand for fashion, combined with health benefits.
Surgical masks block most dust particles and make wearers less susceptible to infection from common sicknesses such as influenza, research shows. A study published in October by the Journal of the American Medical Association reported that fewer than a quarter of the 225 nurses who wore masks while working with influenza patients contracted the illness.
The kingdom's Ministry of Commerce does not keep industry statistics on the sale and import of surgical masks, but a walk through any urban market reveals their ubiquity and diversity. Cartoons adorn some. They are available in every color of the rainbow. Some sport the distinctly Cambodian red-and-white checked pattern of the nation's traditional Khmer Kroma scarves.
"I envision these masks in every hospital pediatrics department, library, school and airport," said Irina Blok, an American-based designer of novelty masks who sold about 500 of them here. "There's a huge potential out there."
Many people who work in the fashion industry blame the Japanese for this love affair with facial gauze. Just as many Western fashions matriculate from the streets of Paris, much of Asia's fashion links to Tokyo. The mask is no different.
In the early 1900s, after Japan's industrial revolution — with all the dirt and disease that came with it — face masks gained popularity outside of operating rooms, reflecting the abhorrence to germs and grime among that country's populace.
Then, a decade ago, when an incipient Cambodian tourist industry spawned direct contact with other Asian peoples, and their surgical masks, the trend quickly infected the kingdom, fashion experts speculate.
Still, the style of fashionable masks remains "in its infancy" here, said Fiona Kizston, owner of Wild Poppy, a fashion boutique in Siem Reap.
"Once Cambodians see other Asians from other countries wearing novelty masks more often, it will catch on here," she said.
Cambodians are a sensible people, even if a tad vain, said Chea Botom, who owns a souvenir shop in Siem Reap selling higher-end fashion. Usually, they don't do things superfluously. So, in today's world, with airborne diseases and pollution, masks have a purpose beyond trendy fashion.
"If we didn't have diseases and pollution, we wouldn't have masks," Botom said.
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