Celebrity Life

No guts, no glory; no pain, no gain. High-jumper Cecilia Yeung and fencer Nicholas Choi have been competing professionally for most of their adult lives and understand, more than anyone else, what it’s like to deal with self-doubt and struggle. We talk to the two athletes and influencers about their drive, their sacrifices and their olympian dreams.

Competing in the Olympics is a dream harboured by every serious athlete. Getting there is another story. Talent alone isn’t enough – a multitude of other factors come into play: passion, hard work, strength of mind, timing, maybe even a stroke of luck. Traditional media tends to focus on the big wins – breaking records and going to the Olympics are headliners that draw people’s attention. But behind the scenes, an athlete’s internal battles, sustained injuries and stagnant growth don’t always come to light.

Professional Hong Kong athletes Cecilia Yeung and Nicholas Choi tell us that struggle is just as important as milestones. Yeung made headlines when she cleared 1.88 metres and set the current Hong Kong women’s high-jump record in 2017. Choi shot to fame when he qualified for the 2012 Summer Olympics and, at the age of 19, became the youngest fencer to represent Hong Kong at the Games. Today, they’re both sitting out the upcoming Tokyo Olympics, but their sights are still on the ball – going to the Games in 2024 in Paris is a shared dream.

“It was always a dream for me to go,” Choi tells me on the day of the cover shoot. It’s a rainy Saturday afternoon, but Choi is all smiles on and off the camera, his slicked-back, platinum-blond hair cutting through the gloom. “For fencing, the biggest competition is the Olympics.” In fact, when he did eventually qualify to go, it didn’t feel real. “I felt like it was still a dream.

I called my parents, my family, everyone was crying and everyone was so happy. But for me, it took a few days for it to sink in and for me to be like, Oh my God, I’m actually going to the Olympics. Like, actually.”

The former Olympian grew up around fencing. His father was a team manager for the Hong Kong Fencing Association and his twin sister, Natasha Erica Choi, competed at an international junior level. In fact, he’s credited his sister in the past for being his motivation. When she was selected to join the Hong Kong Sports Institute junior fencing team, he resolved to train harder so he’d have his turn too.

And his turn did come. In 2010, Choi placed second at the Cadet World Championships and in the same year qualified for the 2010 Summer Youth Olympics. By 2012, he was part of the senior fencing team and went to the 2012 Summer Olympics, for which he received a Hong Kong Potential Star Award. In 2018, at the Asian Games, he won a silver medal in the men’s foil event.

But his rapid move through the ranks took its toll.In December 2018, he announced his retirement from the sport, posting on Instagram, “The past 15 years have been an incredible journey. It’s now time for me to venture elsewhere and create a new chapter in my life, even if there’s no absolute plan about my future for now.”

He’s been training every day since he was 14 as a junior cadet, he tells me. “It was a very easy decision to retire in 2018 because, back then, I really felt like I was done. After the Asian Games, I was so done with fencing. I knew I did really well, but I wanted to start a new page. I was tired of doing the same thing every day and there were other things I wanted to do, other things I hada passion for.”

Sport, at the highest level, can be a lonely journey that not everyone’s capable of making. Choi struggled as early as 2015, but his coach, his teammates and therapy helped pull him through. It’s a struggle that Hong Kong high-jumper Yeung understands completely, having found herself in similar circumstances during her formative years.

Yeung only became a full-time high jumper in 2016, when she was in her second year of university, explaining her decision as a natural evolution in her sporting career. “It was simply a matter of feeling that I had the potential, and at that time I wanted to put more time into it, to see how far I could go. That’s how I became a full-time athlete,” she says.

She discovered a talent for jumping when she was in her high-school volleyball team and her schoolmates would comment on how high she could reach during her spikes. She started training with a part-time coach; within two years she found herself ranking among Hong Kong’s best athletes and joined the Hong Kong team. This year marks her 13th year in the sport.

“I began to realise that I was actually pretty good at this. I felt like I belonged here,” says Yeung. “One of the reasons why I love high jump so much is because of this feeling you get, this ‘hang time’, which is like a moment of suspension in the air when it feels as if time has completely stopped. It makes me feel as if I’ve left the world behind and I’m looking down and everything is in slow motion. It’s an amazing feeling and that’s howI fell in love with the sport.”

Yet she struggled to make an impact. As a member of the Hong Kong team, Yeung was good, but she wasn’t the best and for a long time – six years, in fact – felt she was making little or no improvement. “There was a six-year period when nothing happened, and I wasn’t improving or breaking records. I wasn’t even ranked first in Hong Kong at the time. I wasn’t special among my team members.”

Yeung says she tended to overthink and get into her own head, and as much as she wanted to improve and work hard, there was a mental block she couldn’t overcome – or at least not until she took time away from the sport to figure things out.

“I set aside high jumping for a bit,” she recalls. “For nine months, I completely stopped jumping and focused on other things instead. I picked up dancing in university and joined the dance team. I think that’s when I learned how to relax and I started to make sense of where I was with the sport.”

Yeung’s fitness and strength improved with her dancing, and she was able to get back into high jumps with a fresh mind. “It was only when it was time to enter competitions again that I actually got back into high jumping. Everything felt so fresh. That’s when I started to see results and started breaking Hong Kong records.”

“‘Hang time’ is a moment of suspension in the air when it’s as if time has completely stopped. It makes me feel as if I’ve left the world behind … It’s why I fell in love with the sport."

Cecilia Yeung

When, at last, she broke the record she was elated. “The moment I found out I’d broken the record, I was at an all-time high. It took me eight years, but I did it!

I was high jumping for two years and did really well before I joined the Hong Kong team, which was when I set myself the goal of breaking the Hong Kong record. After I said that, it only took me six years to actually achieve it,” she says, laughing at the irony.

“I feel that there are a lot of things that only become meaningful because of how hard it was to achieve them. Maybe it’s my mindset,” says Yeung. “Things that come too easily for me make me not know how to treasure them. I need to know that I’ve put in a lot of effort for something great to happen. That’s when I learn to treasure it.”

Every moment of glory is underlined with years of strife and sacrifice. According to Yeung, her career can roughly be divided into three stages. The initial stage was the long road to her first Hong Kong record. The second stage was when she was at her peak, breaking six records in succession – until she injured herself and tore a tendon in her Achilles heel, effectively putting her out of the sport while she recovered. Now, she’s getting back into the sport post-injury, feeling more mature and in a better place mentally.

Both Yeung and Choi live extraordinary lives outside of their sports. When Choi took a break in 2018, he turned his attention to fashion, an area of interest he shares with his sister. Whereas his sister works for a brand, Choi makes a living from being an influencer, showcasing his immense sense of style on Instagram, and attending shows and events in Hong Kong.

“I love doing shoots,” he tells me. “It’s kind of like a healing time for me from training and other stuff. When I’m at a shoot, I feel really relaxed.” Choi loved fashion enough to step away from the world of sport and write a new chapter for himself. When he retired from fencing two years ago, he really thought it was the end. But now, after a two-year hiatus and amid Covid, the sport has once again piqued his interest.

“I was really stressed and tired of fencing then, but now that I’ve taken a break, I thought it might be good to pick it back up again.” Covid changed things for Choi, who had his heart set on attending fashion weeks and travelling the world. Finding himself stuck in Hong Kong, fencing once again piqued his interest. As it was his passion for so long, it seemed right that it would drag him out of this interminably depressing situation.

When Choi retired from fencing two years ago he thought it was the end. Now, after a two-year hiatus and amid Covid, the sport has once again piqued his interest

He has a new coach, and although he still has the same teammates he tells me that “it feels very different coming back, it’s like a different life. Even though I’m still training with the same teammates, I was the one who left and came back, so everyone’s also different now. We have a different coach, a whole new training programme, so to me it’s like, ‘Wow, this is all so new, so fresh.’It’s been a month now but it’s still fresh to me and I’m really enjoying it.”

With more life experience under his belt, Choi also feels that he’s in a new frame of mind when it comes to competitions. He took part in his first competition in years just a few weeks ago and, without stressing himself too much, he achieved fifth place – a pretty good start for someone just beginning to get back into the game.

“I used to suck at competing, because I’m always giving myself unnecessary stress,” he says. “I overthink andI can’t sleep, and during a competition I just want it to end. It’s not healthy for an athlete. And as a fencer, overthinking it won’t make you better, it’ll only make you worse.”

Choi describes fencing as being like the chess of sports. “With fencing, I’d say half of it’s about physical training. The other half is about mental training, because you’re constantly predicting your opponent’s next move. So, before the start of the game, you need to calm down and focus. Even if you’re physically strong, if you’re mentally weak you can lose in the first round. And vice versa, if you’re weaker but you can stay calm, you can just as easily win.”

Choi is in it for the long haul. “I train every day from Monday to Saturday, but I do have little breaks in between and I’ll go to events or shoots,” he says.“But my priority is fencing again. It’s all about time management. If you really want to do something,

I’m sure there’s a way to do what you want.”What he really wants is to qualify for the Olympics once again. “My teammates are going this year andI hope I’ll get to go to the Asian Games next year. But my main goal is the next Olympics. I’m back on the team now and, as professional athletes, we need to aim for the biggest goals.”

Since her return to high jumping several years ago, Yeung’s passion for high jump hasn’t faltered. Although she’s an influencer and part-time model, high jump is her number-one priority. “To me, high jump is the most unique thing about myself,” she explains. “The other things I do give me exposure and opportunities, but they wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for high jump. It defines me and gives me the greatest sense of accomplishment.”

She laughs and says she loves to eat – even when she landed a job in Paris walking in Off-White’s fashion show she didn’t give up on eating her favourite things. On the other hand, she’d do anything for a competition, sacrificing late nights and junk food for success on the athletics field.

Yeung could have given up and retired when she injured herself and tore her Achilles heel in 2019, but she’s nowhere near thinking about quitting. “I don’t want to retire yet,” she says resolutely. “Even though I’m not 100 percent back, I tell myself I must try. At least, even if I fail, I’ll know I tried my best and won’t regret it later.”

Throughout our conversation, Yeung often reflects on the kind of person she is and wants to be. She didn’t have the easiest of childhoods – her parents separated when she was young and in past interviews has described herself as a street kid, extremely independent, preferring to do things on her own rather than receive help from others. She points to volleyball, a team sport that she enjoyed but ultimately dropped in favour of high jump, a solo sport in which her successes and failures depend on her – and her alone.

“It’s just the way I am,” she says. “I’m very harsh on myself. I think I can do it all and I’ll push myself to do everything myself. But now that I’ve had an injury, I’m trying to listen to people more often and I also try to listen to myself more often. If something hurts or doesn’t feel right, I’ll tell my coach rather than try to figure it out myself.”

She’s reading The Champion’s Mind, a book by sports psychologist Jim Afremow on how the greatest athletes think, train and thrive, which she finds deeply inspiring. “I’m now at a better place in my mind,” says Yeung. “I can still feel I’m not where I used to be, and even now I’m still healing from my injury. But I’m improving myself in other areas, and I know I have the ability to be even better than before.”

Currently aiming to qualify for next year’s Asian Games, she says she still feels she’s a better athlete.“I think my injury has made me learn a lot about myself. I want to be able to enter competitions now with this new and improved Cecilia Yeung, who has a better mindset to deal with big competitions.”

(Hero Image: (ON HIM) OUTFIT CHRISTIAN DIOR RING BOTTEGA VENETA BRACELET GUCCI (ON HER) OUTFIT CHRISTIAN DIOR EARRINGS, NECKLACE AND BRACELET DIOR)

Cecilia Yeung and Nicholas Choi Cover Story

PHOTOGRAPHY KARL LAM
STYLING JACKY TAM
FIRST ASSISTANT STYLIST LAZ LAM
SECOND ASSISTANT STYLISTS MELODY CHAN AND WAYNE CHOW
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HAIR JEAN TONG

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A regular fixture on global runway front rows, Susanna Lau (aka Susie Bubble) made her name as one of fashion’s most significant bloggers, and one of the Asian originals. Years after starting her Style Bubble blog in 2006 (with a stint at Dazed & Confused magazine), Lau moved predominantly to Instagram and remains a hugely popular digital commentator, known for both her writing voice and influencer work featuring her inimitable style: the dark topknot and heavy fringe, the eclectic dress sense that’s part girlish high-fashion, part youthful street.

“I’ve had a really peculiar and strange and amazing time in the industry, and I’ve loved a lot of it,” says Lau, snug in a hoodie inside an oversized jacket as we pick over lunch at a North London pub that happens to serve as a local for both of us. “I have an amazing audience that constantly feeds me things and new information.

“But I think at this point in time, you’re questioning what really matters in the fashion brands and designers that you’re talking about, what they stand for. It’s an important time to separate the wheat from the chaff. Look at what and who are fundamentally going to make a lasting impact.”

Usually we’d be talking about an event or show we’d just been to. Her 524,000 Instagram followers would be eyeing highlights of big Cruise shows, Fashion Week coverage (“I miss the camaraderie of fashion weeks”) or independent designers she’s picked out. She recently started a new business – Dot Dot, a bubble-tea and Hong Kong-style bubble waffle joint in East London. There’s also a long list of projects with the likes of Gucci, Prada, Coach, Net-A-Porter, Selfridges and Joyce, digitally disseminated to her followers and fans.

But unsurprisingly, many people in fashion are going through a philosophical phase at the moment, after the maelstrom of Covid-19, climate change and social upheaval has bought on a major reckoning for the industry. This year has been different for us all. Lau has long championed “fashion that matters”, but now it seems to be at its most critical, with things becoming social, political and beyond just fashion.

She’s shifted to using her platform as a vocal force to elevate other Asian voices, speaking against racial injustice and a powerful call to #StopAsianHate. The tipping point for Lau was the Atlanta shootings in the US, when a lone gunman left eight dead, six of whom were Asian women – a tragedy that came after months of increased violence against Asians in America, Black Lives Matter protests and a world seized up by the new pandemic.
“The Stop Asian Hate thing has almost been a gradual build up that cumulated in the violence in the US,” says Lau about using her voice to speak up on these matters. “A lot of white people didn’t think of it as a problem and that’s the truth of the matter.”

She’s also called out names in the fashion industry for prejudiced behaviour, taking on the likes of fashion-fixture French DJ Michel Gubert, who posted a Wuhan Girls video featuring slanty-eyed paper masks on his dinner guests. Diet Prada, Bryan Boy and others joined in, and eventually Gubert apologised. Lau admits her “hands were shaking” as she publicly typed her response against a powerful industry figure – but the point is that she’s declining to be silent any longer.

The past year in London has worn the fashionista out with lockdowns and aggressions that perhaps “feels a lot more flagrant these days”. But once she started speaking out Lau says, “All this stuff within me just started pouring out, this cathartic exercise as in, ‘Oh, that happened to me and I just suppressed it.’” A lot of (Asian) people wanted to minimise themselves in a bid to assimilate to not complain and to get ahead.”

As a response, she co-founded a grassroots group called the ESEA (East and South East Asia) Sisters aimed at women supporting and empowering each other. What started off as a casual Whatsapp support group has moved over to a Discord forum – now with over 500 members. Soon the group will launch a website serving as both social support and a creative forum for sharing, collaborations and “things that uplift our voices”.

Through the group, similarity of experiences (both professional and personal) and stereotypes reverberated, “and it does have an overriding effect on your self-worth. I can also speak to that too,” Lau adds. The point is to underscore that Asians and the Asian diaspora are hardly a monolith. With more awareness, especially driven by the younger digital generations, it’s hard to fault Lau saying, “It’s incumbent on everyone just to be more aware.”

Ironically, or perhaps not, this rises to the surface at the very time that Asian power grows in Hollywood and economic power shifts steadily east. The most recent Oscar win by director Chloe Zhao (the first Asian female, non-white woman and second-ever woman to ever win the Best Picture and Best Director categories), the popularity of the film Crazy Rich Asians and Netflix’s Bling Empire are commonly thrown out as examples of change. But while they undoubtedly increase media visibility, don’t the latter two similarly play to a trope?

“There’s a momentum there, but it’s a two-pronged thing,” says Lau of Bling Empire and Crazy Rich Asians. “Of course there’s positivity to it … and yes, obviously China fuels luxury and fashion, that’s the fact of the matter,” but there’s “a slightly negative trickle-down effect to anyone in the West who looks remotely Chinese or East Asian. We’re not a monolith. Within Asia there’s obviously a myriad of different ethnicities and nationalities – and especially in the diaspora in Europe and the States, there are many stories where we aren’t like that.”

Lau’s own parents came to London in the 1970s from Hong Kong, and she grew up in a Chinese takeaway in Camden Town. They struggled. She played in a cardboard lettuce box while her parents cooked. It’s a common immigrant story. My own mother worked as a waitress in a Chinese restaurant, while my father washed dishes whilst completing his PhD.

“I am that kid at the back of a Chinese takeaway doing their homework, while their parents worked!” says Lau with a laugh. Sometimes this modern rich Asian stereotype can have detrimental effects “when you’re just seen as automatically privileged or rich; or that your value is just in your chequebook and spending power”, she explains. “Then it almost negates your other qualities. I’ve experienced that a lot, especially in fashion.”

"I am that kid at the back of a Chinese takeaway, doing their homework”

Susie Bubble

And while the Asian market is all important for global fashion and luxury brands, we both wonder why they’ve mostly been so quiet during this recent spate of aggression towards Asians. But the tide is shifting, often via grassroots movements. Awareness is being raised and, as a professional who cut her teeth in writing and content creation before becoming an influencer, Lau is well-placed to empower other Asian voices as well as her own – both in and out of fashion.

“Mainly, I think I just want to write about things that are truly interesting to me and I’ve always been interesting in writing about where fashion is really going,” says Lau. Her dogged coverage of smaller designers, not based in the big fashion capitals, was because “you could already see that fashion was becoming more globalised and that was 15 years ago”.

Today with the rise of Shanghai Fashion Week, conspicuously the only one able to host big events and shows in the last 12 months, the cultural shift east is glaringly obvious. As the power dynamic between West and East evolves, Asian voices are finally becoming more powerful and empowered. Meanwhile brands are further grappling with a younger generation of consumers who are “hyper aware of situations that are political”, social and environmental.
“You can see that this shift away from Western-centrism has almost rattled the houses deep down,” says Lau. “Everybody needs to contend with lots of things in the industry. There’s a reckoning, and it’s very do or die.”

(Hero Image: Lau Outside Dot Dot, her new business in London’s East End)

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