年轻的郑钧曾经把《天下没有不散的筵席》唱得云淡风轻。小学的我坐在华师大破旧的电影院里，坐着嘎吱嘎吱的竹椅子，看着台上“带墨镜像穿内衣一样”的郑钧，一夜青春感伤。后来，小学的、初中的、高中的、大学的、过去工作的很多筵席都散了。连郑钧都老了，他自己的筵席都散了。如果不盗版，我们就会走进空调超冷超不环保的豪华电影院，用几十倍的价钱，看成百上千倍大制作的电影，不知有几分的感动或满足。

《瞄》可能就是经常带着类似“天下没有不散的筵席”的冷眼来瞄着香港的大小文化人物现象。可惜香港人不太经冻，秋风一吹，就恨不得把各式皮毛羽绒都穿上了，仿佛担心没机会显摆冬季的时尚。

前两天一个寒流一过，香港的天气又回暖了，早晨的阳光颇神圣美好。收到《瞄》的最后一期，刊首词的中文要义是“47期的《瞄》，将来是要装在水晶瓶里双手捧着看的”。（《瞄》以英文为主，但往往会用一两句中文概要地翻译英文文章，而且中文的质量绝对不是“麻麻的”，有惊艳）。我突然想起“爱在华师大”的郑钧之夜，那首《天下没有不散的筵席》，从前的一个笔友信里说外国人看待死很淡然之类的话，“一个人死了，别人走到这里，就为他祝福”。

我祝福，但大概不会把任何一期的《瞄》装在水晶瓶里双手捧着看。多年颠沛流离，我的书和杂志总是日渐销声匿迹。一个朋友曾经说家的定义就是把他一路流浪四散各处的书聚集在一起的地方。我没有这样的心愿，记住的书才是好书，忘不了的自然就随身携带了。筵席即筵席，总有散场。就像《刺猬的优雅》里小女孩的觉悟——人总有一死，关键是你死的时候在做什么。外表丑陋尖刻的刺猬在那一刻正用爱展示着她无比的优雅。

再过几个月，我应该会收到一张支票，一百来块钱，是对这个《瞄》的普通订阅者收不足12期杂志的补偿。我会用这钱看1.5场电影，或者很多很多盗版碟。

冬至好。冬天就这样飘然而至？（写于2010年12月22日）

The New York Times

May 14, 2010

The Pajama Game Closes in Shanghai

By GAO YUBING

Hong Kong

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/17/opinion/17gao.html

ONE hundred thousand fireworks lighted the sky over Shanghai on April 30, marking the grand opening of the 2010 World Expo. For the city’s many pajama wearers, it also signified the start of a nightmare.

After pumping $58 billion into staging this mega-event, which is expected to attract more than 70 million visitors over the next six months, city authorities started a campaign to suppress one of Shanghai’s most distinctive customs: wearing pajamas in public. Just as Beijing discouraged men from going shirtless during the Olympics, Shanghai wants everyone to wear “proper attire” for the Expo.

Catchy red signs reading “Pajamas don’t go out of the door; be a civilized resident for the Expo” are posted throughout the city. Volunteer “pajama policemen” patrol the neighborhoods, telling pajama wearers to go home and change. Celebrities and socialites appear on TV to promote the idea that sleepwear in public is “backward” and “uncivilized.”

But many residents disagree. Pajamas — not the sexy sleepwear you find at Victoria’s Secret, but loose-fitting, non-revealing PJs made of cotton or polyester — have been popular in Shanghai since the late 1970s, when Deng Xiaoping, then China’s leader, sought to modernize the economy and society by “opening up” to the outside world. The Chinese adopted Western pajamas without fully understanding their context. Most of us had never had any dedicated sleepwear other than old T-shirts and pants. And we thought pajamas were a symbol of wealth and coolness.

Shanghainese began wearing them to bed — but kept them on to walk around the neighborhood, mainly out of convenience. At that time in Shanghai, people lived in crammed, communal-style quarters in shikumen — low-rise townhouses in which families shared toilets and kitchens. Through the 1980s and ’90s, the average person had less than 10 square meters of living area. To change out of one’s pajamas just to walk across the road to the market would be too troublesome and unnecessary.

Besides, as a retiree told a news reporter: “Pajamas are also a type of clothes. It’s comfortable, and it’s no big deal since everyone wears them outside.”

Mr. and Mrs. Wang, who lived on the street where I grew up in Shanghai, used to stroll after dinner in their pajamas — nice matching costumes for a loving couple, now that I think about it. Then Mr. Wang would go out to buy cigarettes. In the mornings, Mrs. Wang, still in her pajamas, would dash to a street stall to pick up sheng jian (fried buns) for breakfast.

My own family, a little particular about clothing and slow with fashion, happened not to be part of the pajama troupe. But even those of us who never wore PJs in public are unhappy about the ban.

Two journalists from Hong Kong’s Weekend Weekly magazine have already challenged it. They marched in their silk pajamas along Nanjing Road, a major shopping area in central Shanghai, and sat down in a restaurant. They met only one pajama-wearing comrade, and many people made fun of them (maybe because on a rainy day they were wearing silk jammies rather than the quilted or heavy flannel styles normally worn in cool weather). It wasn’t what they expected in Shanghai.

Yang Xiong, the executive vice mayor of Shanghai and a director of the executive committee for the Expo, has acknowledged the “practical limitations” that led to pajama wearing, but still insists it is now “inappropriate.” The Expo, the logic goes, offers a perfect opportunity to kick the habit; with a large influx of foreigners in town (though, in fact, they are expected to account for only 5 percent of all visitors to the Expo), we don’t want to ruin our cosmopolitan image.

Yet even foreigners are disappointed about the pajama ban. Justin Guariglia, an American photojournalist who showcased Shanghai’s lively pajama scene in his 2008 book, “Planet Shanghai,” says the fashion adds to the city’s character. A British friend of mine told me last winter, before traveling to Shanghai for the first time, “I want to see the Bund, the Jin Mao Tower and Shanghainese women in pajamas!”

The historic buildings along the Shanghai Bund will be there for a long time to come. So will the 88-story Jin Mao Tower. But street pajamas may disappear as everyone moves into modern, spacious apartments. By then, some Chinese fashion designer might, as Dolce & Gabbana did last year, send models down the runway wearing pajamas — and how the audience will applaud!

Gao Yubing is a recent graduate of the Journalism and Media Studies Center at the University of Hong Kong.