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now required to make a trip to Frankfurt.
    Frankfurt? Merry expletive Christmas!
    I throw myself on my bed and try not to cry.
    I’ve been turned around before. I am not the first flight attendant to be turned around, and I won’t be the last one. It’s the nature of my job. But why now? Why me? I really wanted to spend Christmas at home. Obviously someone has gone sick on the other crew. I wonder who it was, and I also wonder if they are legitimately sick.
    I read the message again and then look at my watch: I haven’t got time to be angry. Even so, I sit for a few more moments with all these questions whirling around in my head until the biggest realization hits me like a sledgehammer – I have with me only a wheelie-bag, which contains a swimming costume, a sun-dress and my sneakers, and I am now going to Frankfurt, Germany, in the middle of winter. It is probably snowing, and I have enough clothing to barely cover a Barbie doll.
    It is time to panic now.
    I race to the nearest department store, which is conveniently located in our hotel complex. The words to Bonny Tyler’s ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ are playing in my head for some reason: ‘Turn around – every now and then I fall apart.’
    I need to hold it together. I have just thirty minutes to buy a complete winter wardrobe, otherwise I will be spending three days in a dreary hotel room, staring at the walls and wishing they’d close in on me.
    The trouble with shopping in a panic is that I am acutely aware of the fact that I will be paying way too much for things that I will probably wear just once. I am also aware of the fact I am being forced to do something that riles me to the very core and that goes against every grain of my belief system: I am buying clothes not based on how good they look would look on, but for how useful they would be for me. But I can’t stop. I need to stay warm in Frankfurt.
    Damn it, Singapore! Where are you hiding all your winter wear? I am in one of the hottest countries on the planet shopping for winter clothes. No wonder I can’t find any. The clock is ticking. All I need are clothes that will effectively perform one function: they will to stop me from freezing to death. And I need these clothes now.
    First thing on my list – gloves. I buy the only pair of leather gloves the shop has, and they are pink. Not a tolerable pastel pink, but hot fuchsia. I then get a pair of thick pants that look like something my grandmother would wear. When I do find a jacket and drop it into my cart, I know it will have to drop it into a charity bins as soon as I am back from Frankfurt.
    In my home wardrobe I have the world’s best scarf collection. I also have the softest pashmina wraps in every conceivable colour – except for hot fuchsia, that is. Surprisingly, this department store does have quite a collection of scarves, but I cannot bring myself to finding one that will match my new pink gloves. I know I am going to look like a fashion victim even if I do match the scarf with those gloves, so I decide not to. I might as well buy a scarf in a colour that doesn’t want to make me puke.
    Now I need socks and shoes.
    If my scarf collection is impressive, my shoe collection is better. It really aggravates me that I am going to buy a pair without careful deliberation. Most of my shoes only get worn a few times a year; yet, I make sure that each pair is of such good quality that they will last forever.
    I barely have time to think now let alone hunt for a good pair of shoes, so I decide to get myself a pair of thick socks, which I can wear with my sneakers. When I get to Frankfurt and have time to go shopping, I’ll get a new pair of shoes there. There are some great shoes shops in Frankfurt, I remember from my previous trips there. Surely I can survive in sneakers for just one morning?
    Last but not least on my list – a pair of nice warm socks.
    Time is ticking away, and