A family of four walks past us towards the bright lights that casts a purple glow over the Saigon Opera House. They are wrapped in Vietnam's finest garb, all with a mustard star wallowing in bright blood. 'Good morning Vietnam' emblazoned across dad's t-shirt. Mom opts for a less pop-culture shirt with just 'Vietnam' in calligraphy across her chest. A fair haired boy wears his Vietcong hat (safari-like) askewed, followed by his little sister in a garish faux silk ao dai.
Right behind them, two little Vietnamese boys play a game of tag, their oversized t-shirts of WWF stars drape over their bony collarbones. Dodging out of their way are some up-and-coming twentysomethings Saigonese, part of the noveau middle class. They are imitating poorly the latest western business casual styles: guys in untucked fitted long sleeve shirts and girls in fitted dark jeans and flowing blouses. The clothes look out of proportion. Some have garish belts that wrap behind their backs, their sandals have 4 inch soles to elevate their diminutive stature, and their hair will not cooperate with the Western salon cut.