on being a suit.

I was once stoned in Newtownards while wandering around in a shirt and tie trying to sell an appalling product for an awful firm in an unsuspecting and not particularly enfranchised neighbourhood. The kids thought I was from the welfare department and was coming to take children away from their parents. I tried to explain that my presence their was actually much more insipid but they weren't quite for turning.

Another experience involved screaming kids in a flat in Beijing, where I was paying a house visit for the UN Refugee Agency. These kids thought they were being deported back to Pakistan and didn't quite get that I wasn't from the delightful Beijing Bureau of Public Security.

Now in Vietnam, I get to put the boogie woogie shoes and the best clothes to use with a little bit of appreciation or at worst apathy. I sang and danced at a reproductive health gala for migrant workers and at the end they got their collective groove on on stage for the grand finale. I probably would have gotten up anyway, but I think it made the factory workers happy that they were able to pull be out of my grey suited existence and get me to live a little.

A suit can mean different things in different places - wear with care.