Our project is all about celebrating seniors. An inevitable aspect is that in a matter of time, many of them will no longer be with us.
I experienced this firsthand when my grandmother Anna Lee passed away this past winter. On February 28, 2019, she passed away peacefully at the age of 94 with us by her side.
We first featured her on Chinatown Pretty in 2017. When she was sick, I told my grandma that her unique style, warm smile and inspirational life story struck a chord with our readers -- that 1,700 people liked each photo we’ve posted of her online. “1,700?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Did you count?” she asked.
I felt so lucky that one of the most ho leng (or pretty) grandmas was our own, that thousands of people saw her beauty too. Though it wasn’t just the clothes that made my grandma beautiful.
During her last days in hospice, I read a tribute to her. I told her how much I admired her. How she exuded so much grace -- by the way she dressed, the way she would engage with people with attentiveness. How much I loved her laugh, the way her eyes pressed up against her glasses whenever she belted out a laugh, the kind that came from the gut. I loved the way she said my name.
She inspired me with her active lifestyle. Even a few weeks prior to her passing, she was still driving her Honda Accord to go on her daily ritual of dim sum and a two-hour walk around the mall.
At her service, we used the photo Andria took of her. My dad told me that Chinatown Pretty was a fun chapter in her long life, and that he felt fortunate that we had captured her looking as brilliant as ever, only seven months before she passed. I feel lucky that our project was a notable experience for her, as it was impactful for us.
Even though she’s no longer with us, what I still have are my memories of her -- the numerous visits to Canada which often involved back-to-back Chinese banquets, where I learned how to eat as much as she did (almost.)
I also inherited her beautiful cheongsams, perfectly preserved 80s polyester shirts and high-waisted custom tailored trousers that fit me perfectly. Her closet has integrated into mine; every week I’m wearing several of her pieces.
In addition to her clothes, her spirit will continue on with me -- how to make others feel considered, how to dress and eat well and how to live life fully.
We’re celebrating the Lunar New Year with a photo exhibit with some new and old friends we’ve met in Chinatown. Please join us for the opening party on Thursday, February 22nd. The show will be up till June and will be available for viewing during the JCCSF’s operating hours. Wear your Chinatown Prettiest outfit!
We met Dorothy G.C. Quock, better known as Polkadot, at our opening party for Eat Chinatown. Living up to her name, she wore all kinds of polkadot.
She got her nickname at the Cameron House, a Presbyterian family and youth organization in Chinatown. There was another person named Dorothy, so the headmaster nicknamed her Polkadot, and it stuck. At the time, she didn’t wear much polkadot, but now it’s her signature look.
“I grew up here,” she said of Cameron House. Polkadot was in the first group of teens to join the youth program in 1947, when she was 13 years old. On Friday nights they held socials, where teens would learn about “the birds and the bees.” Dorothy also learned about civic responsibility and politics through the youth program. Although she’s no longer active in the religious aspect of the Cameron House, it taught her the importance of “outward change” and community work.
For Polkadot, that means preserving Chinatown history. She leads weekly tours of Chinatown through Wok Wiz and is a archival researcher and consultant on Forever Chinatown, a documentary on Chinatown history interpreted by artist Frank Wong.
She’s a portal to what Chinatown is and was. While we walked around Chinatown, Polkadot had a story to share every time we turned a corner.
“See that building? I was a house girl for a well-to-do engineer. My sister had the job first, but when she moved away I took over. He had these outfits he’d want us to serve in — Chinese brocade blouses. I learned how to mix martinis for dinner parties,” she said, recalling one of her many Chinatown memories.
Dorothy stayed with the Cameron House until she moved away for college. She spent so much time there her mother said, “Why don’t you move your bed there?”
Polkadot was born in 1934 in Chinatown to a family of nine. They lived in SRO’s and houses all over Chinatown — most of the time with 10 of them in one room. Before she’d graduated high school, they’d moved 11 times. “With so many of us, my mom probably got in a lot of arguments with neighbors,” she said.
Her dad worked as a rice deliveryman, dropping off 100 pound rice sacks to Chinatown businesses and residences. For the opening of CAAMFest, an Asian-American film festival, Dorothy took one of the old rice bags and turned it into a dress.
Her mother worked in a sewing factory, where she would bring Dorothy and her siblings to work at the Levi’s factory. “We first learned how to trim hems,” she said. “At 10, I mastered the button hole. We got 2 cents for every button hole we made.”
Child labor laws were not strongly enforced back then, so kids worked next to their mothers. There was always someone in front to keep watch for an inspector.
“They’d yell ‘gweilo’ [ghost man, a Cantonese derogatory term for someone of European descent] whenever a white guy came in and we would run into the bathrooms and hide until someone told us it was safe to come out,” she said. “It usually wasn’t a child labor inspector; it was usually a new employee that had come to pick up the finished jeans.”
Photos taken at the Cameron House (and their epic rooftop basketball court.) Many thanks to Polkadot and the Cameron House for hosting us.
Guan Cuixia, 74, sported a super wide-brimmed sun hat from China at The Food Pantry at St. Gregory’s Episcopal Church in Potrero Hill. She wears it everyday along with her thick knit gloves to prevent getting “too tan.” And that nice bob underneath her hat? She cuts it herself!
We also liked her color palette of dark lilac and muted green (the jacket, jade jewelry and the hem of her gloves!) A subtle but pleasing outfit.
Can’t believe we hadn’t met this character and SF Chinatown resident before, but there he was a few weeks ago, casually leaning up against a light pole on Grant Street. His cap was encrusted with enamel pins from his travels around the world.
Hoa Tran Lu, 83, a boss lady in blue. She looked powerful in her navy patterned outdoor pajama set, topped with an orange print scarf. Strong color combo!
Part of our series of portraits with the YWCA, which runs affordable housing for seniors in Chinatown.
Angela Chen, 75, exuded a certain kind of cool and command. I immediately wanted to call her “boss.” I loved her mix of colors topped off with a fancy cap. She’d recently rediscovered the sparkly embroidered cap she’d bought it in Thailand nearly two decades ago.
Originally from Taiwan, she worked at an immigration office in Oakland before retiring, and also picked up Cantonese and English on the job.
She called to thank me upon receiving her prints in the mail. “I think these are the sharpest photos I’ve ever had taken of me. Very very super!”
We ran into Buck Chew, 95, a charismatic and dapper Chinatown local with a penchant for colorful ties. He was on his way back from the grocery store picking up a few essentials. You may recognize him as Butterfly Buck from another post. We almost didn’t recognize him with this ladies sun hat (more like a halo)! But we saw that tie and noticed it was our old friend.
We helped him carry his bag of ginger and bok choy in and spent time time with his wife Len Wuey and daughter.
We asked about their keys to longevity. They rarely eat out and eat lots of fresh veggies, ginger and fish.
We met To Hon Ng, out on her daily walk, looking understated and elegant in earth tones. Born in 1927 (year of the Snake) in China, she and her family immigrated to Vietnam by foot when she was 3 to escape flooding in her hometown. She immigrated to the U.S. in 1995, following in her children’s footsteps. They gift her most of her clothes including the wonderful accessories she was wearing.
We asked in Cantonese, “How many children do you have?”
She replied, “You won’t believe it, but get this… I have 12 children! Eight daughters and four sons.”
To keep healthy, Mrs. Ng, a Buddhist, makes sure to walk around the neighborhood every day and may even pick up a few dollars worth of veggies if she sees something she likes. Her children come over to make her favorite foods and her “heart stays happy.”
Before we parted ways, she expressed how fortuitous it was that we met each other. She was flattered we liked her style. We felt pretty lucky too.
Mrs. Lee was born in 1935 in the city of Guangzhou, China. She was a nurse in Hong Kong before immigrating to the U.S.
Impressively, she made the floral sun bonnet and peach pants herself. The padded velvet jacket was a gift from a friend. She was rocking two functional trends we often see in Chinatown: the lanyard (with keys or ID) and the concealed purse. Her version of the lanyard was a string of pearls, and her version of the concealed purse was a black leather fanny pack.
She’s not only stylish, but tech-savvy. In addition to ESL (English as Second Language), she takes technology classes, like How to Use an iPad, at the local senior center and prefers playing Mahjong on the computer.
Before we said goodbye, she asked for my phone number. “I’ll call you tomorrow so I can practice my English, okay?”
We spotted Victor Lee from across Columbus Park, a popular hangout spot for seniors to play Chinese chess, chill on park benches and exercise. Lee, 58, stood out among all the black parkas with his green knit cardigan.
A closer look revealed the delightful details: an orange polo shirt with a matching mesh jersey layered on top; a golden sphinx necklace which he adorned with a orange polka dot bow.
“It’s now in style,” he laughed, when we asked about his fashion sense. “Normally I wear a down jacket, but I wanted to be more fashionable.”
We looked down at his jeans and saw Chinese characters written in Sharpie on his pant leg. “What does that say?” we asked.
“Space culture,” he replied. “You know — the sky, airplanes, UFO’s.”
His catch phrases and quirkiness was seen all over his outfits — and we saw many variations of this over the course of our week in Manhattan.
Lee’s been in Chinatown since he was 10 and he’s a super local — during the day he moves from corner to corner, chasing the sun, smoking cigarettes.
One day he wore an U.S.A-themed hat with the American flag and bald eagles. There were a few of his signature Sharpie scribbles on them, one of which was the phrase “Golden Times,” a warming thought.
When we complimented him on his hat, he immediately offered to us. During our week in New York he also gave us White Rabbit candies and womens bracelets.
At one point during our walks around Chinatown, I saw a Sharpie drawing on a wooden wall. It was of two turtles with Chinese characters written on the side. Our translator said it read, “It is worth an entire city.” Did the author mean that turtles were literally worth the value of an entire metropolis? Was it a random phrase or an ancient Chinese proverb?
Either way, we figured out who the author was the next time we saw Victor, who had the same two turtles drawn on the America-themed hat he tried to give us; a gesture worth an entire city.
Wing Chun, 85, had on fall gear when we met him: a plaid shearling coat he purchased 20 years ago on top of a plaid shirt paired with high-waisted pants. A black monochrome stitched New York cap topped off the look.
Wing immigrated here with his grandma and father and worked in the restaurant industry, though not in New York proper. “It was easier to find work in other states,” he said. He worked in restaurants around the East Coast, saying there was less competition for jobs. He did everything from waiting tables to delivering food to being a host. When he was younger, him and a few friends opened up a Cantonese restaurant together. But they started to disagree on things and he decided to close up shop. “I preferred to lose the restaurant than lose my friendships,” he said.
We met Sidney Yuen, 73, in Oakland Chinatown as he headed home with full bags of fresh produce and groceries. He’s now retired after working for 36 years as a butcher at Berkeley Bowl. He has always worked in markets, first in Sheung Wan marketplace in Hong Kong where he grew up and then in Hawaii where he landed in the 70′s upon immigrating to the U.S.
His friend connected him to the job in Berkeley where he remained for the rest of his career. Mr. Yuen stays active by practicing Tai Chi and learning Chinese dance at local parks. We asked him about his distinctive hair which he said he only began growing out a few years ago, “Everywhere I go, people say they recognize me,” he said. “They call me Mr. Miyagi or Ho Chi Minh.”
Whenever we’re in Chinatown we like to stop by The Chews’ house. Buck Chew, 95, and his wife Len Wuey, always treats us to snacks and hot water. The couple, and their daughter who’s frequently there, always make us feel at home.
Every time we run into Buck on the street, he pulls out his photo album from his jacket pocket. He’ll proudly proclaim the professions of his grandkids, “doctor,” “engineer,” or revel in his daughter’s age “72!”
He’ll point to Len and refer to her as his “wife-fu.” Cantonese speakers often add an extra syllable to English words (which sounds more like their language), which is why he pronounced wife like that. Just like the couple, it is so utterly adorable.
Buck is known for his dapper style, and Len is always rocking beautiful patterns. On our visit, she wore a pink keffiyeh scarf with her knit sweater and floral shirt, all in the same palette. She’s often sitting in the living room and we hold hands, communicating with our smiles that hand squeezes. She never lets us leave without taking an apple or orange.
Happy Valentine’s Day! May your holiday be filled with as much love (and style) as the Chew’s.
Read more about Buck Chew in our first post, Butterfly Buck.
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