A recent newspaper story nearly made my hair curl.
It was about Singaporeans scaling China's corporate ladder. Good for them, but what caught my attention was the tactics adopted by 25-year-old Angelina Ong, a Shanghai-based general manager for an international public relations firm.
To prove she was 'foreign talent' in China, she spoke English to clients and - get this - put blonde streaks in her hair.
Being foreign talent is a lot more than speaking English and having blonde streaks.
It involves being both a foreigner and having a bit of talent. Well, preferably, a lot. The talent is the key part. The talent to do a job that locals can't.
I hadn't realised that now, the whole package matters.
While I am sure ambitious Ms Ong has got the smarts to succeed on her own terms anywhere, it is a worry to think that, initially at least, those Chinese mainlanders - usually such a streetwise bunch - were reassured of someone's foreign-ness by blonde streaks in the hair.
So that's what being a foreign talent can hinge on today. A few bits of blonde in dark hair. Goodness knows there have been plenty of punk-rock bands with the same hair effect, but they weren't necessarily talented, musically or any other way.
In Singapore, ever since dyeing to be blonde became do-able even if you had hair the colour of coal, there have been youngsters sporting some yang in their bangs.
But it was a phase wannabe rebels went through. It ended when national service crimped their style or, if female, when those strong bleaching compounds dried their hair like coconut matting.
Luckily, my hair had never resembled an old coconut. Yes, I dye my hair. Like Ms Ong, I put blonde streaks in it.
In my case, though, it is because the streaks make my light- brown locks look lighter and nicer.
But now, in the light of trail-blazing Ms Ong and her fair success in China, I am worried. Has my continued survival here, through economic cycles of booms and busts, hinged less on being a wizard with words and more on being hirsuteastute?
Have blonde streaks, the reassuring, visible proof of my foreign-ness - and not just my talent - been my salvation?
My hair anxiety comes at a time when Singaporean 'foreign talent' are busy cracking the China job market, and foreign 'foreign talent' are busy cracking the Singapore job market.
Some of these foreign talent are well-heeled money men who must give locals a sense of pride that their country is a destination for the world's top-notch private bankers.
Those guys fulfil the fantasy of what many imagine expat life to be like. Lavish penthouses. Flying first class (lying down on that flat bed even when you would rather be sitting up, just because you can). Holidays at ritzy resorts.
Then, there are the 'non-fantasy' expats. They are what some posters on online forums call 'Tier 2' expats. They are seen as second rate and are urged to head to T2 at Changi pronto.
I suppose I'm a Tier 2. I don't splash out vast sums on meals, mojitos and maritime fun on private yachts. My indulgence is getting those blonde streaks put in, every six weeks.
People on the street seem puzzled when they see me catching the bus to work, just like them.
And now, thanks to the get-ahead strategy of Angelina Ong, I'm wondering, what's the point?
How does a foreigner stand out in being foreign, given that Ms Ong might inspire more silver streakers? That's bound to make being a blonde Westerner lose its lustre.
Should I tell my hairdresser to lay off the bleach, to foil Angelina copycats?
No, I'll simply take my hat off to Ms Ong's business savvy, and carry on dyeing.
It's a nice thought: some female blonding among foreign talent, wherever they hail from originally.
This is the first of a weekly column by expatriates working in Singapore. The writer is a copy editor at The Straits Times and has lived in Singapore for 15 years.
