MRS. WONG'S FINISHING SCHOOL FOR ASIAN TEENS
by uciboy
Author's Note: I wrote the original version of this story nearly 20 years ago when I was relatively new to the Asian Smoking genre. I recently decided to extensively revise it, with one exception. Max 120 cigarettes were discontinued in 2010, but I've decided to keep the brand in this revision because of its significance to the characters who smoke them.
PART I - MOTHERS, DAUGHTERS AND AGE OLD BATTLES
Imagine if you will, reader, a scene as enchanting as this one: three beautiful and sophisticated Asian American women in their late 30s each smoking a long 120 cigarette as they sit at a kitchen table one afternoon chatting. Smoke hangs heavily in the air as each take one gentle puff after another, periodically tapping their cigarette on one of two full ashtrays that sit on the table. Each have their own unique style of smoking - a cheek hollow, a snap, or a French inhale. They hold their cigarettes with confidence, perpendicular to their face, or an arm straight out as it rests on the table. They bring the smoldering instrument slowly up to their lips and breathe in its joyous contents after making the tip glow. They are comfortable here, enjoying a guilty pleasure which in fact they feel no guilt over enjoying. The thick smoke moves slowly across the room like a glacier as it is reflected in the late-afternoon sunlight pouring in through the windows.
Elizabeth, Georgia, and May were lifelong friends, growing up in prosperous, if not necessarily rich, families in Taipei. Only through the business ventures of their husbands were they able to gain entry into the economic elite they so desperately wanted to be a part of. Here, in Beverly Hills, they lived like the wives of the Chinese landlords of old. Their husbands treated them like spoiled brats, acceding to every whim and selfish desire they had. Of course, they drove the best cars, wore the most expensive fashion designer clothes, and made every effort to flaunt their wealth and status. They were convinced that they were invincible. Not even smoking could harm them.
And oh, how they
loved
smoking. Indeed, they were conditioned early in life as they watched their own mothers enjoy their cigarettes over games of mahjong to believe that smoking was both fun and social. As teenagers, they came to understand how smoking enhanced their beauty and sophistication, and they eagerly embraced their addictions with hardly a look of disapproval from their parents. When they immigrated to America in their early twenties with their husbands, they chose their new American brands both with pride and a keen sense of how it represented their individual identities. Of course, they were each attracted to 120s. "Everything is bigger in America!" Georgia once gushed when she purchased her first pack of Eve. "I just like having something long in my mouth," Elizabeth once whispered wickedly to the laughter of her two friends. They were proud to call themselves smokers as they believed the long, thin cigarettes between their fingers was a reflection of the level of refinement and femininity that was of their new social status.
And so on this warm summer day, these three housewives were gathered together over jasmine tea and cigarettes as they did every Wednesday, enjoying one another's company, sharing jokes and stories, and gossiping about friends and neighbors.
"Did you see what Alice Gong was wearing the other night at the Founder's Dinner," Georgia sneered as she stubbed out her Eve and quickly reached for another out of the floral designed pack. "I swear I wouldn't be buried in a gown like that." She held the cigarette between her lips and brought the flame up to the tip which turned a bright orange. "It was positively hideous," she said, holding a puff inside her lungs before blowing a gust out of the side of her mouth. "What on earth was she thinking?"
Elizabeth made a loud hiss as she blew a stream of smoke across the table. "What do you expect from New Money," she said derisively. "Her husband didn't make his fortune until he sold his company last year."
"That woman wouldn't know taste if it fell on her head like a sack of potatoes," May added with a tap of her Virginia Slims against the rim of the ashtray. "You know she grew up in a peasant family on the mainland. If it wasn't for her husband's software start-up, she'd be knee deep in rice paddies."
"Well, I'm certain that it was a potato sack that the gown was made of," Georgia said with a wicked smile before bringing the freshly lit cigarette back up to her lips for a gentle puff.
These three women were merciless in their criticism of the new wealth from Asia, especially mainland China, buying up property throughout the Los Angeles basin. Attending American schools in Taiwan and living in the US for twenty years, these immigrant transplants had little trouble assimilating into the culture. They considered themselves Americans; Chinese-Americans (from Taiwan) in terms of ethnic identity, but proud Americans all the same.
But to any astute observer, this petty carping was in reality a cover for their own social insecurities. They knew, based on their economic backgrounds in Taiwan, that they were not full-fledged members of the American aristocracy; that they were themselves part of the
nouveau riche
that the upper-crust disdained. Their husbands could (and did) portray themselves as self-made men, achieving some respect from their upper-class peers. Their wives, however, were seen as little more than upstart, vulgar, social climbers. They were not educated in music, art, or literature. They couldn't tell you the difference from a Matisse or a Monet painting.
Did Bach and Beethoven have different styles? They both wrote classical music, right?
None of the three women had any post-high school training.
Elizabeth, Georgia and May were all determined that their off-spring would not face the same humiliating lack of respect from their peers. Hoping that their own children would be close friends, each had a child - to their joy, a daughter - within a few months apart of one another; and then each stopped at one since they weren't about to let prolonged motherhood interfere with their carefree lifestyle. They sent their girls to the best private schools in Brentwood; showered them with expensive gifts, clothes, and jewelry; and constantly reminded them that they were better than any of the common people they encountered outside of their economic-social circle. These American born girls would not, these mothers were determined, face the indignity of being called
parvenu
since they were born into wealth.
Now if only their daughters would act the parts they were born to play!
---------------------------------
As these mothers shared a good laugh over their perceived superiority, the kitchen door swung open and in walked three teenage girls.
"Hi Mom, hi aunties," each one said to the women at the table. Each of the three girls at age 18 were beautiful in their own way. Caroline had a long face with sharp eyes like her mother's, and her long black hair frizzed from too many perms. Jenny had a round face with sharp facial features and black hair that was short like a bob. And then there was Lilly with hair down to her shoulders and soft facial features that would easily land her a career as a model, she was as pretty as a model but as rambunctious as a Tomboy. She was without question the most beautiful of the three daughters and the trio's unspoken leader.
Though sharing their mother's good looks, there was little else they had in common. All three were straight-A students (which, of course, gave their Chinese mothers bragging rights with friends and neighbors). But college? Despite being told time and time again that they wouldn't need higher education to be happy with the wealth their parents would always provide to them, these sisters in arms were UCLA bound with the intention of finding some career to change the world. They showed no desire to accept their debutant roles within the American nobility. They loved sports and other outdoor activities. For them, etiquette and protocol were words that one studied for the SAT rather than to live by. While their mother's bought them the most expensive fashions on Rodeo Drive, the girls were much more comfortable in T-shirts and Levis. They wore their hair however it felt comfortable at the time: wrapped in a bun or loose and unkempt.
And they absolutely
detested
smoking.
As Lilly was their hostess, she walked over to the refrigerator to offer her friends a soft-drink. All three were sweating profusely and their mothers looked at them with disapproving eyes as they scanned the soiled clothes the girls wore.
"What on earth have you three urchins been doing?" Elizabeth asked with disgust.
Caroline took a swig of the Diet Coke in her hand and said to her mother after swallowing, "We were down at the Boys and Girls Club volunteering. After helping the kids clean up the gym, we decided to play some basketball with them."
